“Help! Help!” screamed Sir Fergus.
Two men stumbled into the tent and gaped at Artan. He nudged Cecily through the slit in the back of the tent as he smiled at the two men. A third man stumbled into them, pushing them even closer to him. He felt Cecily grab the back of his shirt and tug on it.
Finally freeing his jupon, Sir Fergus stumbled to his feet. “Kill him, ye fools!”
“Artan, I should really like to leave now,” said Cecily.
Artan roared at the men and thrust his sword in their direction. As they all tripped over each other in an attempt to flee, he slipped out the back of the tent and, grabbing Cecily by the hand, ran for his horse. He threw her onto Thunderbolt’s back, handed her the blanket sack, and mounted up behind her. Kicking his horse into a gallop, he headed away from the increasing chaos of Sir Fergus’s camp.
It was two hours before he felt he could slow his horse’s pace. He felt Cecily slump against him and knew she had felt as tense as he had as they had both waited to hear the sounds of a large pursuit. He wrapped one arm around her waist, held her even closer to him, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Did he hurt ye, lass?” he asked softly, sure that she would understand he was not referring to any beating.
“Nay, just a few slaps and kicks,” she answered, reaching down to lift the wineskin from where it hung on the saddle. “He also ne’er offered to give me a drink and I had to ask for one.” She had herself a long drink of wine, sighed with pleasure, and replaced the wineskin.
“Ye do understand that by calling yourself my wife before a witness we are now handfasted,” he said carefully.
“Aye, I ken it. I remembered Old Meg telling me about it.” She cautiously looked at him over her shoulder. “Sir Fergus will ne’er say anything if ye wish to just let it be forgotten.”
“Och, nay, lass, ye willnae be rid of me that easily. We will hie ourselves to the verra next village and find a witness or two who willnae be reluctant to hear our declarations.”
“Do ye think there will be a place where I can have a hot bath?”
“Aye, there will be. And there will be a place with a nice big bed as well.”
Cecily decided it would be wise to act as if she had not heard that.
Chapter 12
It was a few hours later and very late indeed when they rode into the village. Cecily thought the tiny inn they rode toward looked like the grandest of palaces. She knew she would find a meal and a bed, but what she really prayed for was a hot bath. She desperately wanted to wash the stench of Sir Fergus off her skin and soothe all the bruises she had collected. Glancing over her shoulder at Artan, she knew she also wanted to be clean when she shared his bed as his wife for the first time.
“Are ye certain ’tis safe for us to stop here?” she asked as he dismounted in front of the inn and helped her down.
“Aye, lass,” he replied as he collected their packs and took her hand in his. “Sir Fergus willnae be going anywhere for a while, nay unless he wishes to leave a fortune in saddles behind and ride without one.”
“Ah, I see. Nay, he willnae want to do that.”
“Are ye sure ye are all right?” he asked quietly as they entered the inn.
She briefly tightened the grip of her hand upon his. “Aye, I am, although a hot bath would be verra welcome, indeed.”
Cecily stood very quietly by his side as he spoke to the innkeeper. She almost protested when she heard how much the man demanded for preparing her a hot bath, but Artan’s next request diverted her. The innkeeper looked from Artan, to her, and back again, and then grinned before hurrying off.
“Why do ye need another witness to our handfasting?” she asked.
“Because, as ye said, Sir Fergus will ne’er admit to hearing our declaration, and the other fool who was lurking just outside the tent might nay survive the confrontation yet to come. I certainly dinnae intend for Sir Fergus to do so.”
“Ye think Sir Fergus will continue on to Glascreag?”
“Oh, aye. There is a fortune to be had, and greed can give e’en a worm like him some courage.”
That troubled Cecily, but she had no chance to discuss it further for the innkeeper returned with two men, a quill, some ink, and something for them to write on. Artan wrote down what was needed as they each declared themselves in a more formal way and the other men made their marks on the document. After it was done, Artan carefully stored the document in his pack, paid for some ale for each of the men, and had the innkeeper escort them to their bedchamber. Within moments she found herself alone with her bath readied and waiting for her. Cecily did not think she had ever shed her clothes so quickly. For a moment she felt guilty that she had not even asked Artan if he wanted her to hurry so that he could enjoy this luxury, too; but then she sank into the hot water, sighed with pleasure, and forgot everything but how good it felt.
Artan stood outside the door of the bedchamber he would share with Cecily and softly cursed. He felt as nervous as an untried lad. It had been a long time since he had bedded a woman, but he knew that was not the cause of his unease. He had never bedded a virgin and he had never bedded Cecily. This would mark the start of their married life, and he felt the importance of that weighing him down. Not even once in his life had he ever been so concerned about giving his partner pleasure.
Stiffening his spine, he entered the room. Seeing Cecily kneeling near the fire combing her hair dry, he quietly shut the door behind him and just watched her. She was beautiful with her long, thick hair falling in soft waves to her slim hips. Her nightgown and robe were very modest, but just seeing her readied for bed was enough to make him ache to take her there.
A rap on the door announced their meal. Artan moved to stand so that he blocked all view of Cecily before bidding the one at the door entrance. Once their meal was set out on the small table near the window, he tossed the innkeeper’s son a coin, then securely locked the door after he left. Artan turned to face Cecily and bowed her toward the table.
