Page 18 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

“You can. I run the place. I insist.” Again, she smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice a whisper.

She took the spoon and dug into the thick porridge. Despite the food in her saddle bag, it wasn’t enough to sustain her. This would get her through to her next meal, whenever that was.

A few others trickled in from the outside, taking seats at the bar. The woman returned to bring them food and drink. Rosamund didn’t miss her glancing her way as if to check on her. After serving a man at a nearby table, she paused next to hers and took the seat opposite her, which surprised her.

“So,” the woman said. “Who are you running away from?”

Rosamund peered at her as shock trickled through her. “What makes you think that?”

She looked her over. “I’ve seen enough runaways in my time to recognize the signs.”

Her mouth went dry. “What are the signs?”

“For starters, you have dark circles under your eyes,” she said. “Second, your dress.” She wagged a finger at her. “That’s not fit for riding. Is it?”

Rosamund glanced down at the delicate gown with the pale-yellow daisies. She kept her eyes down. “No.”

“So, what or who are you running from?” the woman asked again.

“My parents,” she said at last.

“Ah, I see.” She got to her feet. “Come with me.”

Rosamund’s head snapped up in her direction, question flickering through her. The woman waved her to follow.

“Well, come on.”

She pushed back from the table and followed the woman with round hips and a kind face through the tavern to the back room. She led her past a kitchen to a narrow staircase. Up she went and still Rosamund followed. At the top of the stairs, she pushed open a door to reveal a small living area. Clearly the woman lived here.

“Have a seat.”

She motioned to a lumpy chair near the one window with threadbare curtains while she disappeared through another doorway.

Rosamund sat in the chair, her hands in her lap as she waited with her heart in her throat. She peered out the grimy window but there wasn’t much to see but the side of another building. The woman returned minutes later with an armload of clothes. She placed them on the nearby dining table that only had one chair.

“Do you live here?” Rosamund asked.

“I do.” She sorted through the clothes, holding up certain pieces, then folding and putting them aside.

“Alone?” Rosamund asked.

The woman paused to look at her over her shoulder. “Yes.”

Rosamund wondered what led her to this life. How did she end up as the tavern owner? The woman picked up a stack of neatly folded clothes and turned to face her. She held them out to her.

“Here. This will be better than that gown.”

“I don’t understand.” Rosamund slowly rose from the chair, eyeing the clothes.

“Traveling clothes,” she said, pushing them into her hands. “You can change in there.” She pointed to the doorway.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, gazing down at the material in her hands. “What’s your name?”

“Anne,” she said.

“Thank you, Anne.”

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