Cullen nodded eagerly.“Do you think they’llget along with Godfrey and Damon?”
“They should,” Roark said.“Beasty here seemsto get along with anyone as long as they’re friendly, Etain too.”As long as they didn’t try to nurse from her.
The image of an auburn-haired babe with eyesas green as spring grass suckling at Alina’s breast came unbidden,hitting him like a blow to the chest.He braced his hands on hisknees pulling in air, but he still couldn’t breathe.
“Roark?”
He looked over at Cullen’s big green eyes, solike Alina’s, so like the child he’d envisioned, and lowered hishead.“I’m all right,” he lied.“I need a moment, lad.”
After his breathing returned to normal, theyled the horses out two by two, keeping an eye on them as theyapproached the other horses, sniffing and flicking their tailsbefore settling down to graze under the late morning sun.Roark wasshowing Cullen how to use the spyglass when Owen and Gavin cameinto the paddock, and he showed them as well.
“Here,” Roark said, holding the spyglass outto Owen.“I want you to have this as thanks for all you’ve done.For all you intend to do for Alina and myself.”
Owen eyed the spyglass for a moment and thenwaved it away.“While I appreciate the offer,” he said, “you shouldhold on to it.You’ll have more need of it on your journey backto—” he glanced at Cullen, “your home.Which you’ll be accompaniedon by Niels and Grant.”
“While I appreciate your offer,” Roark said,“may I ask why you’d be willing to send two of your men on such along, arduous journey with me, and back?”
“Because it is such a long, arduous journey,”Owen said.“And because Lady Alina asked me to.”
Roark snorted.“Of course she did.”He toedthe ground with his boot and rubbed his jaw.He hated bringing morepeople further into his mess, but the company of two armed menwould almost guarantee his return to clean up the rest of it.Heheld his hand out to Owen.“Of course, I accept.”
“Good,” Owen said, clasping Roark’s forearmand giving it a shake.“Now that’s settled, we were about to gotaste test a batch of whisky.Care to join us?”
***
Roark woke fully clothed on top of a bed in astrange room that spun when he tried to sit up.He fell back on hiselbows and squinted at the glaring daylight streaming in throughthe open window shutters and groaned as his head startedpounding.
“Water,” he croaked, forcing himself to situp slowly and scan the room for a drinking pitcher.Spying one on atable, he pushed himself onto unsteady legs, grabbed his throbbinghead with both hands, and stumbled over to the pitcher.His handsshook as he poured himself a cup of water and drank it in threelong swallows.He refilled his cup and gulped down the water untilthe pitcher was empty.Now he recognized where he was.
He remembered going to the distillery withOwen and Gavin and drinking whisky, telling tall tales, andlaughing until his belly hurt.He was fairly sure they’d sung a fewbawdy songs before staggering across the yard to the manor housesometime after dark.He had a vague memory of attempting to climbthe stairs to their rooms, and thought they may have fallen a timeor two—which his sore backside and shoulder attested to.He’dobviously made his room, where he must’ve passed out in a drunkenstupor and remained the rest of the night.
A night he was meant to spend with Alina.“Damnation.”
Ignoring the constant, throbbing ache in hishead, he splashed water on his face and left his room to end upstanding in the hall trying to decide whether to go straight toAlina’s room or go down to the dining hall and get something solidinto his empty, queasy belly.With his belly threatening to revoltand the smell of whisky sweating out of his pores, he decided itwould be best to eat and bathe first.Alina would understand.Hehoped.
Loud, boisterous voices assailed his head ashe entered the dining hall, and then the heat and smell of bodiesand food hit his nose and belly.He glanced at the bowls ofporridge people were eating as he headed for the high table andalmost retched, twice.
He took a seat by a dour-faced Owen andpeered into the laird’s bloodshot eyes.“How much whisky did wetaste yesterday?”he croaked.
“Gallons,” a sallow-skinned Gavin answeredfrom Owen’s other side.
Roark took in the fried eggs, buttered bread,and ale the laird and his brother-in-law were eating and asked theserving maid for a plate and a cup of the same.
“O’course, m’lord,” she answered.
He started to raise his hand, to stop her andtell her he was no bloody lord, but it took too much effort.Hepropped his elbows on the table and laid his head in his handsinstead and tried to remember more of yesterday, but it only madehis headache worse.
The maid brought his food and drink, and bythe time he’d sipped half the cup and eaten most of the food, hisbelly was feeling almost normal and the pounding in his head haddulled enough for him to think without hurting, though his memorywas still muddled.
“I’ve been drunk a few times before,” he toldOwen, who’d finished eating his food and was nursing his second cupof ale.“But never like that.”
“I’m not surprised, lad,” Owen said with asubdued chuckle.“Whisky’s a stronger drink than most men are usedto.”
Gavin turned a jaundiced eye to Roark.“Imust say, lad, you handled it better than most their first timeoverindulging.Right up until you started singing.”
“I apologize,” Roark said.He sounded like astag in rut when he tried to sing.“Anything else I said or did Ishould be aware of since I can’t remember a thing after the third,or maybe it was the fourth, cup?”
“Not much,” Owen told him, “other than yourentire life history up until the moment you spied Alina racing herhorse on the beach with her legs bare and her long maneflowing.”
