Page 38 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“I’m not sure.” She looked back to the door of the tavern and Dirk nodded.

“That’s James. He’s our stable boy and Cecelia’s nephew. You can give him your horse and he’ll watch it closely for you, my lady.”

“All right, then.” She gave the reins to the boy as Dexter took her travel bag off her horse. The guard planned on carrying it inside for her. Martine didn’t want him in the tavern because she knew the man liked to drink. He’d most likely ask for a drink and sit there all day not leaving. There was no need for the guard to even step foot inside. The tavern wasn’t open yet. Plus, she would be in good hands and didn’t need his protection. “I can take it from here,” she told Dexter, pulling the bag from his hold. “You are dismissed. Be back at midnight to escort me home.”

“Midnight?” growled Dexter. “The roads aren’t safe that time of night. I’ll collect you before the sun sets.”

“Nay. That will never do,” she told him. “Most of the tavern’s business doesn’t even start until the set of the sun. If I’m going to be of any help to these people, I have to stay here later.”

“I’ll discuss this with Lady Devon,” said Dexter mounting his horse. “Go on. Get inside before I leave, my lady.”

“I’m going. Now leave. Please.” She headed to the tavern. Dirk ran out and took her bag for her.

“Allow me, my lady.” Dirk was more than willing to help her and smiled at her as if he thought he had a chance of getting a kiss from her like his cousin had. Dirk smelled and was sloppy. His big stomach made his tunic rise up, enabling her to see the hair on his belly. She tried not to look.

“Thank you, Dirk,” she said, just to be polite, stepping into the dark tavern. She had hoped David would be there to greet her or perhaps carry her bag. He was nowhere in sight. “It is so dark in here.”

“The tavern’s not open yet,” said Dirk. “Even though the inn part is always open.”

“There’s no need for firelight,” came a voice from the dark. “You’ll get used to the dark after a while.” Martine heard a strange tapping noise across the room as well as the shuffling of feet. Then David’s blind uncle walked out into the center of the room, using a cane to make sure his way was clear. He stopped in front of her. The daylight shone in from the open door, making his blind eyes look even cloudier.

“Mayhap there is no need for you to have light, Uncle Joe,” said Dirk, putting the strap of Martine’s bag over his shoulder as he headed to a window. “But Lady Martine isn’t used to the dark like the rest of us.” Dirk pulled open the shutters from one window only. Light streamed into the room.

Then came the voice of a woman. “I, for one, work better in the dark, just using my hands as a guide. And sometimes my mouth.” A whore strolled down the stairs looking disheveled and with her bodice untied. Her breasts spilled out of the top, leaving little to the imagination.

“Thank you, Cinnamon. You were wonderful as usual.” A man hurried down the stairs after her pulling his tunic into place. She turned around when he got to the bottom landing, grabbing his face and kissing him hard for all to see. Then Martine watched the whore run her fingers down the man’s chest and to the man’s groin, giving him a quick squeeze.

“Oh, you wicked little tart!” The man who looked like a villager or perhaps a traveler jumped backward when she’d grabbed his groin. “Keep that up and I’ll never leave here.” He dug a coin out of the pouch tied to the belt of his quickly tightening trews, and slipped the coin between the girl’s breasts. “You like that?” he asked with a rotten-toothed smile, squeezing her breast, bending over like he was going to taste her.

“You know I do.” Cinnamon pushed him away and removed the coin. Then once more she stroked the man, probably hoping for more money.

“That kind of behavior needs to stay behind closed doors,” muttered Martine, heading over to the drink board where she thought she’d find David for sure. “Just put my bag down here,” she told Dirk, nodding to a table in front of the drink board. After taking off her cloak, she looked around the room. The only ones there with her were Joe, Dirk, and the whore.

“I’ll take your cloak, my lady.” It was Dirk again. She really didn’t want him touching her things because his hands looked filthy and his finger nails were nearly black.

“I’ll keep it with me for now, thank you.” She wondered if David was in back. “Actually, I’d like to hang it in your living quarters, not out here in the tavern if you don’t mind. I’ll do it myself.” She reached for the cloak but the whore’s words stopped her.

“He’s not in there.”

Martine stopped in mid-motion. “Who?” she asked.

Cinnamon slipped behind the drink board and poured herself a drink. “He’s not in the living quarters so you don’t need to bother going to look for him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’d been found out and she didn’t like that in the least.

“You know who I mean. I’m talking about David. After all, that’s why you’re here, aren’t you? To see him again?”

“I’m here to– never mind,” she said, not feeling the need to explain herself to the tart. “Dirk, where is David?”

“Not here, like Cinnamon said.” Dirk went over to the drink board to flirt with the girl.

“When will he be back?” This disappointed Martine since David knew she was coming here this morning. Why in the world would he leave?

“Don’t know,” said Dirk, paying no attention at all to Martine. He was leaning close to the whore and staring down her cleavage. No wonder work wasn’t getting done with such needless distractions.

“What about Greta and Cecelia? Are they in the kitchen?” she asked.

“Nay, they’re gone too.” Uncle Joe made his way over to her, taking a seat at the table. “They had to pick up a shipment from the alehouse. And before you ask, Matilda is making up the beds upstairs.”