Chapter Five
Gunn had donehis best to steer clear of Jocelyn since they’d arrived back at the inn the night before.
He found himself caring too much. Consumed with thoughts of what would have happened if he hadn’t come upon her when he did. Of course, it was possible the man was truly being chivalrous, but his insistence led Gunn to believe otherwise.
Today, he’d kept busy in the pub, taking inventory, stacking cases. Any attempt to keep his mind off Jocelyn. He didn’t ken why he cared so much. He didn’t even ken her.
But the pull to check in on her while she worked to ensure she ate was strong. He slammed a crate onto the stack.
“Sir?” Thomas asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Aye?”
“Ye’re going to obliterate the contents if ye keep banging the crates about as ye are. We dinna sell enough liquor to be losing it to broken bottles.”
Gunn bit the inside of his cheek. Thomas wasn’t wrong. They needed all the inventory they had to remain intact.
“Pour me a whisky, will ye,” he said sharply and approached the bar.
Thomas remained silent as he filled a glass and pushed it toward Gunn.
“I apologize. I didna mean to snap.”
Thomas shrugged. “We’ve all got things we are working through,” he said as he turned and replaced the bottle of whisky on the shelf.
The door opened and a few men entered. Gunn had seen them around but didn’t ken their names. They sat at a table by the window, deep in conversation, before gesturing for Thomas to take their orders.
It wasn’t really his job. But, just as he had cut back on Theodore’s and Thomas’s hours, he’d had to let his two server girls go.
“Ye have things handled in here?” Gunn asked when Thomas came back.
“Aye. All is under control.”
Gunn gave him a nod and left the pub in search of Flora. If anyone kenned if Jocelyn had eaten yet, it was her. The young woman managed to be everywhere all at once. If anyone wanted to ken what was happening in the inn, all they had to do was ask Flora.
He found her covered in flour up to her elbows helping Cook knead bread in the kitchen.
“My laird,” she said and a puff of flour floated through the air as she dipped into a curtsy.
“Flora, has Miss Townsend eaten today? Other than when she broke her fast,” he quickly added when she opened her mouth to answer.
“Nay, my laird. Not that I’ve seen.”
“Cook, do ye have some sustenance I can take to her before she collapses at her desk?”
The cook nodded and went about putting a plate together.
“That’s nearly what she did yesterday. I willna have her doing it again today.” He admired her dedication to her work, but he didn’t want it to be at a detriment to her health.
“I can bring her the meal, my laird,” Flora offered.
He should accept the offer. To keep his distance from the woman that was occupying way too many of his mind’s thoughts.
“Nay. I prefer to bring it to her myself. Thank ye, Flora.”
Cook handed him a plate piled high with dried meats, fruit, and bread. It was as if she too believed the lass needed to eat heartily.
He smiled his thanks and left the kitchen.
