The redhead, willing or not, didn’t have a chance of satisfying Peter now. He moved her off his lap. Wood scraped against the floor overhead. The object currently inflaming his desire was awakening.
“See if you can locate the rest of your under clothes and present yourself to Lady Brighit. She requires your assistance.”
“Aye, my lord.” The wench dipped into a curtsy and left to do his bidding.
Peter crossed into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. The open hearth blazed. Both husband and wife moved about the small area. A kettle sizzled over the fire.
“How fare thee, my lord?” the innkeeper asked, scraping the ashes off the bottom of a dark loaf of bread before dropping it onto a wooden platter.
“Fair enough. I will see the other men roused and will return anon to break our fast.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Peter went out the way he’d come. The tension grew in the pit of his stomach the closer he got to the stable, anticipating his encounter with Brighit’s guardians. They were scoundrels of the worst kind. Not to be trusted. And the only ones with any information about Brighit. That was about to change.
“Ivan!” Peter shoved the little man with his foot. Ivan rolled onto his back and wiped the spittle from his mouth. He blinked several times before answering as if trying to get his wits about him.
“Aye. I’m up.”
Ivan’s obvious annoyance was a boon to Peter’s irritation.
“We need to talk. Now.”
Peter walked a short distance past the stable, away from any possibility of being overheard. Ivan joined him, his face scrunched up into a nasty grimace.
“Tell me about Brighit.”
Ivan stood a little taller and his face just about split with his arrogant smile. “I thought you would take a liking to her.”
Peter grabbed him by the front of the tunic and jerked his face in closer. “Enough with your arrogance!Neverspeak so of the lady again or you will find your entrails spilling onto the floor.”
Ivan lifted his hands in surrender. His eyes two wide orbs. “I yield, my lord. Beg pardon.”
Peter gripped the material tighter. “I know you have threatened her bodily to make her afraid.”
Ivan shrugged against his grip, his feet half off the floor. “I don’t know what you speak of. I’ve said nothing.”
Peter’s nostrils flared, his teeth clenched. “You lie.”
He paused, fighting to cool the rage coursing through him.
“If you lay a hand on her, I will cut that hand off. If you look at her askance, I will pluck out your eye. If you offend her with any part of your body, I will remove it.”
Every pore on the man’s face bulged with fear. Peter unclenched his fist. It took Ivan a moment to move again. Peter stood before him, crossed his arms and waited.
“Her uncle was to see her safely to the Priory from Ireland.”
Peter glanced around, raising his hands palms up. “Uncle?”
Ivan shifted and averted his gaze. “My master, her uncle, ordered me to see the job done.”
Peter tightened his chin. This missing uncle was the root of the problem. “Where can I find this uncle?”
Ivan blanched. “He is not with us.”
“My question was not a difficult one.”
“He is in Ireland.”
