Page 45
“Did my lads see to yer horses?” the innkeeper asked.
“Aye, and most efficiently, too,” Camden replied with an easy smile. “There’ll be a generous tip for them come morn.”
The thin man smiled, pride evident in his wide grin. “’Tis just me, the three lads, and my two daughters. The missus died a couple of years ago, but the lasses ken how to cook a decent meal and keep the place clean. My youngest lad painted the inn’s sign.”
Parental pride expanded his chest.
A child had painted the sign.
A stab of remorse pricked Bethea for judging so quickly. The poor man was trying to support his family the best way he knew how, and she’d found fault before she knew anything of their circumstances.
Another surreptitious look revealed he spoke the truth.
The lodging-house was quite humble, but the floor was swept clean and looked well-scrubbed, the tables wiped, and no cobwebs collected dust in the corners. A hearty fire burned in the oversized fireplace dominating the public room.
A bright-eyed lass of about sixteen years emerged from what must’ve been the kitchen and placed steaming bowls of stew, several thick slices of bread, butter, and cheese before the men. They tucked into the simple fair with gusto.
With a polite nod, she brushed her hands together and made straight for her father.
“This is Kate,” the innkeeper announced. “She’ll see yer stomachs are full.”
The proprietor turned his attention to the four men patiently waiting behind Camden and Bethea, acting for all the world as if they were strangers rather than armed guards sent to protect them.
“My coachmen need food and ale,” Camden said to Kate. “They intend to stay with the coach and team tonight.”
“I’ll see to it.” She nodded, her freckled face breaking into a friendly smile. “What about ye and yer lady?”
“My wife is travel-weary,” Camden said without a flicker of unease at the fib. He took Bethea’s elbow. “We’ll eat in our chamber.”
“Verra good, sir. Either Mattie or I will bring yer food to ye and water for washin’.”
The other sister, Bethea presumed.
Kate bobbed a shallow curtsy and hurried to the kitchen.
“Our room is on this level,” Camden whispered in her ear as he guided her to an adjacent corridor. “I prefer ground floors when stayin’ someplace I’m no’ familiar. ’Tis easier to escape.”
Once a spy, always a spy.
Bethea had scarcely removed her cloak before a light knock at the door announced the arrival of supper.
Camden answered and directed Mattie to place the tray on a table situated below a window. Kate followed her sister and poured warm water into the basin.
“Let us ken if ye need anythin’ else,” Kate offered, with another genial smile.
They were certainly happy children, despite the loss of their mother.
And they were so eager to please that it pulled at Bethea’s heartstrings. She made a mental note to advise Keane to send travelers this way. Perhaps Camden would do the same, as well as his brother, Graeme.
“My cloak could use brushin’, and my shoes cleaned,” Bethea offered on impulse. “If ye have time. I’d pay ye, of course.”
The lasses bobbed their heads.
“Of course, we can,” Mattie assured.
Smiling broadly, they left the chamber a few minutes later, carrying not only her cloak and shoes but Camden’s boots, as well.
Another piece of her heart fell at his feet.
