“I dinna need to be hidden as none of them have seen me yet. But the lass, I think she’d be safer tucked away. And I’ll pay double all the same.”
“If ye insist.” Gavin nodded toward his wife, Sarah, and she scurried over, a pleasant smile on her face at seeing Ian. “Brought a woman with him.”
“Oh,” Sarah squealed, clapping and leaning around Ian to see where the mysterious woman was. “Is that so?”
“Nay, no’ like that,” Ian groaned. They’d have him wed before the hour was through. “She’s a… Well, anyways, I’m her escort, I suppose. She and my brother’s wife are cousins.”
“Ah, well, perhaps ’tis best to keep it out of the family,” she said. “Dinna need that kind of trouble. Where is she?”
“In the kitchen. I didna want to bring attention to her, as we’re in a bit of trouble. Sassenachs,” he whispered the latter.
“Ah, I see. We’ll get ye both settled, not to worry.” Sarah whirled around toward the kitchen with Gavin in tow.
In the kitchen, Goosie was weaving her way around all the staff’s legs, and Rhiannon was giving the scullions a lesson on chopping.
“See, if you hold the onion like this, your fingers bent under like this,” she demonstrated, with a mesmerizing speed and accuracy, “you won’t have to worry about cutting yourself again.”
Ian noted that one of the said choppers was holding a bloody rag on their finger, which was likely the impetus for this lesson.
“Now you try,” Rhiannon instructed one of the other scullions, who was slow at first and then quickly gained speed. She turned again to the injured helper. “Once you get that finger bandaged up, you’ll be back to chopping in no time and without any injuries.”
“Oh, can we keep her?” Sarah asked, pouting up at Ian.
Ian chuckled, his gaze drawn back to the woman in question, who continued to impress him with each passing minute. “Only with her permission, though I think my brother and his wife might have my head if I leave her behind.”
“Fair enough,” Sarah conceded with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.
“My lady.” Regrettably, Ian interrupted the lesson. “When ye’ve finished, Sarah will take ye to your room.”
Sarah wiggled her fingers at Rhiannon and thanked her for teaching the scullions a better way to chop. Rhiannon graced her with a smile that did something funny to his insides. She retrieved Goosie from where she’d been lapping at a small bowl of milk laid out for her by one of the kitchen servants.
“Oh, thank you so much,” Rhiannon said. “Would it be too much trouble to take some of this delicious stew to my room?”
“None at all, dear, and if ye’d like a bath, too, I can have the tub and some hot water brought up.”
“Oh, a bath? I would love one. I probably look a fright. So much mud outside. The storm and all.”
“I dinna think ye could ever look a fright,” Sarah said with a tut of her tongue.
Ian also didn’t think it was possible for Rhiannon to look anything other than stunning, even with flecks of mud on her face and hair. In fact, he found the flecks of muck to be somewhat endearing, which likely meant he was deranged. Alas, he would have to live with that notion because as hard as he tried not to notice her, he was incapable.
Ian followed the two women upstairs, keeping an eye on anyone who happened to be watching them from the tavern below, part of which had a view of the stairs. One man in the corner booth looked to have drunk an entire barrel of ale and was therefore not a threat even if he tried, and then there were a few men who nudged each other that were drinking at the bar. No one else seemed to care, or at least didn’t look long enough to give Ian pause. Good.
Sarah opened a door—third on the right from the stairs, Ian noted—and showed Rhiannon inside. There was a large bed, a brazier for a fire and a very small table with two chairs, along with a slim wardrobe that had seen better days from the looks of it. The room was small but cozy, and though the furniture was tattered from age, the space was clean and well-maintained.
“I’ll be back with your supper and bath,” Sarah said, eyeing Ian on her way out with a question.
He could tell she wanted to ask about his sleeping arrangements, which he’d not yet thought of, only that he knew he would not be sharing a room with Rhiannon. Riding a horse with her was temptation enough. Though for safety’s sake, it was probably best for him to stay here with her. To protect her in case the English came and they had to make a hasty exit. Then again, his gaze trailed to the bed. There were a lot of things that could happen in a bed with a bonny lass, and he didn’t want any of those ideas to come into his head.
Except it was too late for that now, wasn’t it? He pictured of Rhiannon’s red-gold hair spread out on the pillow, her lithe body naked and soft beneath his.
Ian cleared his throat and wrenched his gaze from the bed toward Rhiannon, only to see that her gaze, too, had been fixed on the mattress, and her cheeks were flaming red. Was it too much to imagine she was seeing the same thing he was? Och, the naughty lass.
She let go of Goosie, who quickly leapt onto the bed and curled between the two pillows. The proverbial douse to flames, except it only made Ian think that pillows had been laid there for two heads.
“I’ll let ye have the bed, of course. I’ll likely stay in the barn with George. Wouldna want my faithful mount to miss me for too long.”
“Oh, I couldn’t let you stay in the stables.” Rhiannon flicked her gaze toward his, her lower lip drawn in between her teeth.
