“Aye.” Clyde surrendered at once, eagerly gripping and gulping the remaining mead which had belonged to Aonghus.
The pair followed the brown skirts belonging to the innkeeper’s wife up the stairs. She held a candle lighting their destination past the doorways on an oak hall, the boards giving a creak at Aonghus’s girth, before they all paused outside the last room on the left.
The guide released the door onto a cozy chamber. Keirah took a brisk inventory: beamed ceiling, roaring fire, small shuttered window, half a cask to complete a standing bath – oh aye, its water was steaming, lovely – and…one bed.Wait, one lone bed!Her hands tightened on the woolen cloak.
“Here you are, Mistress MacCade,” the wife said, efficiently. Keirah’s eyes stayed locked on the bed. “I shall return to check upon you.”
When words failed, Keirah gave anahem.
Aonghus took the lead at smoothing the awkward moment. “Much obliged,” he said, then gave his ownahem.
Her eyes strayed toward Aonghus, hearing the innkeeper’s wife’s retreating steps somewhere through the befuddled haze. “MacCade, what are you considering shall be takin’ place in this chamber laid before us?”
He didn’t answer at first but strode into the room to pull his dagger. His movements deliberate, he looked behind the raised pallet and into all darkened corners.He is searching for any unseen threats.
The task complete, he approached while stating, “Cluaran, you take three steps over this threshold, bolt the door behind your shadow, and savor a good long wash till you are all wrinkly and the water turns Baltic.” He offered the words gently. “Then, I will return to knock and watch over you while you rest those spent eyes.”
Her gaze left the bed while her hand rested a moment upon his forearm between them. “Thank you.” Her fingers gave a squeeze on the blanket of muscle covering his arm. “Thank you, MacCade, for all the effort and gallant nature that has lacked for so long, my mind did not recall how such a gesture felt once bestowed.” He looked a hard moment at her hand before he pulled away, giving a nod.
“You drop this board in place, Keirah. Release it to nae other than my voice hailing you from the other side upon my return,” he warned. “Nae one, not even the innkeeper’s wife if she returns before me, agreed?”
“Aye.”
He paused in the hall facing her.He is waiting for me to secure myself inside.At the action, she wrung her palms together lest she answer the need deep in her heart to feel hiswarmth again. It was her cheeks which turned warm instead at the realization she yearned for his touch. As she shut the door and dropped the board,then, his steps thumped away back toward the stairs. The tease from water’s steam called; her garments hit the floor at the ready. Time to shed this dirt!
Chapter 9
Fumes from lads and lords and ale turned stronger as the night grew late. Two tankards more after Clyde’s departure, Aonghus darted his eyes again at the far stairwell. If only there were enough mead to quench the urge to climb those stairs and break the door down to claim the lips of the lass who haunted him.
When was the last time he’d held such a strong inkling? There had been others he held an attraction to, but as he had considered before, Keirah was…different.Shewas the reason – never had he met a lass who held such conviction in her views on so many different matters in a way that called to…to strength of one’s character, not what title held.
Here he was spilling all his secrets quicker than the mead filling his tankard. Something in her manner captured him as none other. This was dangerous in more ways than one. Once an audience with the king was seen to, there would be a high-born lord or knight declared a match for her, not a banished man such as he. No matter what, hemustkeep his distance.
Repeat the plan: one – protect her; two – see her safely to King Alexander’s side; three – take leave to find Sturan. This wasall.
The concoction guzzled easily down his pipe. Setting the leather tankard down, his eyes strayed to her spoon, still onthe table. The very same spoon she used while adoring her pottage. A wee feast in a bowl; those same courtiers they spoke about would have turned their noses up at the common morsels. She instead had taken such innocent joy from it.What a shame witnessing these simple joys will be lost on her future snob husband at court.He closed his eyes a long moment; the unguarded blissful expression she wore at the simple task surfaced. Aye, it took ownership of him; this was why he had shared his family’s past with her and the dire chronicle regarding Lady Morag. He clenched his jaw.Repeat the damn plan again: one – protect her; two…
The third tankard drained, the steps gone over a hundred times, he grabbed the candle off the table, starting for the stairs. A few raunchy remarks were made with lude hand gestures while he strode past the benches containing a feathering of remaining patrons from the lads who knew the lass was waiting for him upstairs. Little did they comprehend he would be enjoying the comforts of a drafty floor at the bed’s foot. At least he would be near her. His first stride covered three steps easily.
Outside the door, he paused.Hummhumm…She was humming inside and feeling sprightly. A smile reached his lips. He rapped his knuckles onto the splintered wood and the humming stopped.
“MacCade?”Good, she followed the careful direction.
“Aye, Keirah.”
“Um…a moment,” she answered, sounding flustered.
His brows drew together. “All is well, Cluaran?”
“Aye,” she replied quickly. “I am just completing drying my hair by the fire, but my soiled garments are still drying…so I am bare.”
He ground his teeth.Repeat the plan…
“Wait! MacCade, I have a means…hold but a moment more.”
A slight pause held before the door issued a scrape from the board releasing on the other side. A scampering from footsteps sounded before she hollered, “You may enter, MacCade.”
He pushed open the door slowly while saying, “Cluaran, I may speak with the innkeeper’s wife about drying them on a line…”
