He couldn’t blame her. He was, too.
“Do ye ken where we need to go?” Her voice was quiet. Small.
The opposite of what he’d come to expect from her when she spoke. She was always strong and sure in her words. Suddenly, she seemed, what was the word he was searching for?
Vulnerable. That was it.
She looked vulnerable.
He nodded. “I do. But ye need rest. We’ll stop in the village we will pass on the way by.”
“I dinnae need to—”
He cut her off by holding up his hand. “Ye do and ye will. It’s been a trying night. We havenae slept for some time, nor have we eaten.”
As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loud in the clearing in which they sat atop their horses.
He lifted a brow in question at her. “It seems to me yer stomach isbetraying ye. I find I am also quite hungry. We’ll sup. Rest and be fresh to finish this quest. How does that sound?”
She twisted her mouth, not wanting to admit that he was right, but she finally nodded.
“Mayhap we can e’en order baths.”
Her eyes lit up at that and she sat a little straighter on her horse. “That would be nice.”
*
By the timethey arrived in the village and made their way to the inn and secured a room, Moira’s eyes had grown heavy with sleep.
He’d watched her closely whilst they rode, ready to step in if he thought she would fall or not be able to continue on. But she persevered and pushed through.
She was strong. He wondered if she realized that about herself.
Now that they’d arrived, she breathed a sigh of relief as they were led to their room, their single room, and fell onto the bed, sinking into the soft pile of throws.
Errol had indeed convinced the innkeeper to prepare baths for them. Of course, he insisted Moira bathe first. When she was done, he’d take his turn.
For a moment when securing the room, he had hesitated on renting only one room. It had been a trying couple of days. The information they’d uncovered had heavy emotional ramifications. He didn’t want her to stay alone.
If she needed comfort, he wanted to be the one to offer it to her, even though he kenned he shouldn’t be.
He sighed, thinking about the revelations they’d learned. Aye, everything he’d kenned growing up was built on a lie. He could explain that to his father. Even show him proof, however, doing that wouldn’t be enough to erase decades of hate toward the Harts.
They’d killed his brother.
He couldn’t forgive them for that.
Ever.
A knock on the door brought his attention back to the room and he answered, allowing the maids carrying buckets of water to enter and fill the tub. They kept returning until the basin was three-quarters of the way full and steam filled the room. They even provided a bar of soap scented with dried lavender afore they left.
Once he and Moira were alone, he rubbed his hands together. “I will leave ye to bathe in peace. Do ye need aught from me afore I go?”
Her eyes clashed with his. “Where will ye go?”
“The tavern next door. I could use a whisky. Mayhap e’en two.” He smiled. “But if ye need something afore I go, I will get it for ye.”
She pushed off the bed and crossed her arms, her palms rubbing her upper arms. “Ye brought my bag in, so I have all that I need.” Moving to the tub, she dipped her fingertips in. “The water is perfect.” She picked up the soap and breathed in its scent, closing her eyes on a sigh. “It smells divine.”
