“Mead, if ye please,” she replied, and he got up to fetch a small mug for her. When he returned, Blair said, “Ye left a fine supper upstairs, ye ken. Shall we go back and eat together?”
Not to be fooled a second time, Slaine said in a neutral tone, “I ate down here already. Let’s talk about what we should do on the morrow. I suggest searching all the taverns and making inquiries about yer faither.”
Blair had to agree. She was a little upset it had been Slaine to bring up the plan first. She promised herself not to be put off the quest for Angus because of her pursuit of the man sitting beside her.
“Visiting every tavern in Cromachy in such bad weather is nae a very inviting proposition, Slaine, but if it means we might get word of me faither, I am happy to do it,” Blair declared.
“That’s the spirit, lass,” Slaine said approvingly. “I ken it’s hard gettin’ back in the saddle after a day in the rain, especially after a warm meal and bed, but the sooner we find out where Angus was last seen, the closer we’ll be to getting ye and yer faither back to yer farm.”
Blair stopped with her mug midway to her mouth when Slaine said this.
Back to the farm! Losh! That’s where I’ll be heading after we find Faither. And then Slaine is free to wander off and find some other young girl to help...and leave me behind to a life of drudgery.
She thought about collecting eggs, feeding hens, and herding sheep like she had done every day without complaint before meeting Slaine. It was then Blair realized her little adventure had changed her more than she knew—enough to understand she could never go back to doing the same thing all the time. And what about Slaine? An image of him riding off into the distance with no backward glance or regret made tears of vexation rise.
Slaine was looking out over the taproom but turned to Blair when he heard her whimper. It was only one doleful hiccuping sob, but he heard it over the noise. Noticing the tears, Slaine was immediately concerned.
“What’s the matter? Are ye worried about yer faither? Dinnae fash, love, we’ll get word of him tomorrow, I promise!” He took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Blair dashed the tears away from her eyes. “Oh, Slaine, what did ye call me? Did ye say ‘love?’ Because if ye did, it would make me the happiest girl alive!”
Too late to take back his words or lie about his feelings any longer, Slaine suited his actions to his words and bent to give Blair a kiss.
It was not passionate or full of the possibility of greater intimacy to come. It was a kiss overflowing with sweetness and hope. A tender brushing of his mouth against her lips, enough to let Blair know she was right, that she had always been right, and he was through trying to fight it any longer. The great warrior Slaine was finally beaten.
A loud clamor rose from the taproom’s street entrance. It sounded like the bark of some angry animal, but when the sound came again, it was closer and more recognizably human. Slaine and Blair were too caught up in their loving embrace to pay attention to the noise when it first happened, but by the time the indignant howl was heard a second time, they broke apart to see what was making all the racket.
They were greeted by the sight of a disheveled, middle-aged man trying to push his way through the busy taproom crowd to get to their table. He had one black eye and a hefty bruise on the left side of his cheek, but these outward signs of abuse did not seem to have dampened his spirit. From where Slaine and Blair were seated, all they could see was the top of the man’s tousled head bobbing toward them. For all the man’s furious scowling and shouts of anger, the taproom crowd did not seem to find the man’s appearance threatening. His clothes were damp and torn, but under the scruffiness, they could see the clothes themselves had once been well made out of costly materials.
“Woah there, auld man,” one drunk taproom patron shouted as the man tried to push him to one side. “Where are ye so anxious to get to? Ye have a real fire lit under yer trews!”
A burst of laughter greeted this statement and many of the men in the room raised their glasses and cheered.
“Me daughter! That man has me daughter!” the middle-aged man cried out in a greatly aggrieved tone.
By this time, the man had managed to push his way through the crowd and reached a space on the floor where Blair and Slaine were able to see him without obstruction.
“Faither!” Blair screamed.
14
Caught in a Trap
For one moment, the man seemed torn between giving his daughter an excited hug or attacking the man who had been kissing her. Undaunted by his size, Angus Carmichael chose to launch himself at Slaine.
“Ye brought me daughter to the wrong town for yer skuldudrie, ye cur! How dare ye make me eldest daughter into a wench! Take that!”
And with those words, Angus balled his right hand into a fist and punched Slaine hard in the stomach.
A howl of pain followed this action. Angus, his fist smarting from hitting a surface that had more in common with a blacksmith’s anvil than flesh and bone, shook his hand as though he’d stuck it into a fire.
“Ow! Losh sakes! What have ye got under yer doublet, fella? A hidden iron breastplate?”
Blair tried to divert her father’s attention away from Slaine to herself.
“Faither! Look at me, please. This is Slaine. He has been helping me search for ye. I swear, that’s all.”
Angus, unmollified by her explanation but happy to have something to take his mind off his pain, simmered down enough to forego further violence.
