Page 18 of The Lyon and the Lass

“I will just be glad to get out of this carriage. I would love to walk around for a bit, if that is acceptable to you.”

“Of course. We will go inside to register and arrange for another carriage to be readied for us in a few days as well as speak with the stable lad about my horse. Then we shall stroll the marketplace.”

The inn was as he remembered it from a few years before, the last time he passed through the area. The innkeeper was younger than he remembered but most likely he was the son who had taken over when his parents grew too old.

They were welcomed and shown into a large, corner bedchamber with a window that overlooked the harbor.

Christine turned from the window. “While we are here, I would like to purchase a few garments. I left my Papa’s house with very little and even less when we left Mr. Kendall’s brother’s townhouse.”

“’Tis a good idea. I can use a few new items myself.”

They washed the road dust off them and proceeded out the front door and into the busyness of the village.

“Oh, look, Kerrigan. Ribbons. I could certainly use a few new ones.”

Not used to shopping with a wife, or with any woman for that matter, Kerrigan decided it was not something he would like to do ever again. Christine stopped at just about every vendor table,picking up little things here and there. She chatted with every vendor, also.

After what seemed like hours, Kerrigan took his timepiece from his pocket and declared, “Goodness, Chrstine. The hour grows late. We must return to the inn for our supper.”

She nodded at the woman she’d been speaking with, handed the bairn back to its mother, reminded the older man with the woman what he should do for his aches and pains, and finally, he was able to drag her off.

Kerrigan took her arm and marched her directly to the inn door, not allowing for anymore stops. What he’d needed to purchase had been done when they first arrived and took about ten minutes. They’d had all her acquisitions sent to the inn as she bought them.

He looked at the pile of bundles and bags in the corner of their bedchamber. “Lass, this will take up quite a bit of space in the carriage on the rest of the trip.”

Christine studied the stack of items she’d purchased, her index finger tapping her lips. “Thisisquite a bundle.” She turned to Kerrigan. “I had no idea I was buying so much.” Her shoulders slumped, a look of sadness on her face. “Do you think I should return some of this?”

His stomach twisted with the way she eyed her purchases. “Nay, wife. Doona fash yerself. We will be sure to secure a large enough carriage for the rest of the trip, and I can ride Fergus if it is verra crowded.”

He chuckled to himself, knowing that riding his horse in the fresh air would be a wonderful payment for all the hours spent crowded in the lack-of-air carriage.

The meal of very tasty lamb stew with side dishes of roasted vegetables, along with warm freshy-baked bread was everything Kerrigan remembered from prior visits. As they relaxed afterdinner, Kerrigan enjoying a brandy and Christine a sherry, he looked at her across the table. “Ye look tired.”

“Yes, I am,” she said, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, stifling a yawn.

He sat back, crossed his arms over his chest and viewed her from underneath his eyelashes. “How tired are ye?”

Christine perked up. “Notthattired.”

Kerrigan downed the rest of his drink, stood, and held out his hand.

Chapter Ten

Misery. That wasthe only word to describe her life. They were still traveling, and while the two-day break had been pleasant and soul-refreshing, they were once again on the road all day. This day was the worst so far.

Before they left the lovely village they had visited, Kerrigan had insisted on them speaking marriage vows before the local blacksmith, who like most men of the trade in Scotland married couples “over the anvil”. Although most hurried marriages took place closer to the border, there were those couples who didn’t want to take a chance stopping at the popular Gretna Green where their families would most likely be searching for them.

The man had marriage certificates and provided them with one after they again spoke their vows. Kerrigan explained that the procedure they went through was considered a legal marriage in Scotland and he wanted to make sure her uncle didn’t have any question about the legality of their marriage either in England or Scotland.

She had started her monthly flow that morning and, too embarrassed to tell Kerrigan why she was in such pain, she made up a story about a bad headache that traveled to her stomachwhich only caused him to ask her every ten minutes if they should stop and see about finding a doctor or a healer.

Her woman’s time had never been pleasant, but this one was particularly bad. Plus, there was no maid to see to her comfort. No one to bring her a hot brick wrapped in soft cloth to place on her aching stomach. No maid to bring her hot chocolate with a touch of laudanum to ease her pain.

No. She was stuck in a carriage in the pouring rain. Her husband was outside helping the driver push the wheels out of the muck. She was cold, in pain, and miserable. Perhaps marriage to Lord Newton might not have been so bad. She sighed and was immediately thrown to the floor as the carriage experienced a large jolt. She screamed, feeling as though the vehicle was about to turn over.

“Are ye all right, lass?” Kerrigan called from outside of the carriage.

“Yes. Just fine,” she said as she climbed to her feet and settled back onto the seat. Two tears slid down her cheeks.