Page 14 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
He sneered at her then. “Dinnae worry yer pretty little head. I dinnae mean together.”
While Keane took his bath, Elsie was once more left under the watchful eye of Alisdair as they sat downstairs in the tavern. Situated at a table with a drink before them, they watched for some time, the men merrily enjoying tankards of ale.
“They are relieved tae get an ale and a decent sleep tonight,” Alisdair said, out of the blue.
“Perhaps, if they were nae thundering around the country, snatching lasses from chapels, they’d enjoy their own beds more often,” Elsie snapped back.
She had not meant for her remark to be amusing, and yet, Alisdair turned to look at her with a wide grin. “Perhaps,” he said. After pausing a beat, he continued. “I’m sure yer faither is as displeased as ye at the circumstances.”
“O’ course. He was dead set on this alliance.”
“That, and he’s worried about ye,” Alisdair said, his voice expressing concern.
Elsie looked at him then. “Me faither couldnae care less about me. I am useful tae him only as an asset.”
The man beside her frowned deeply. “That cannae be true, me lady.”
“Ye clearly dinnae ken me faither,” she huffed.
“I ken o’ him,” he replied, “but nay, I have never had the pleasure o’ meeting him.”
Elsie tightened her jaw. “I assure ye, pleasure isnae a word I would use.”
Alisdair was about to reply when Keane arrived, fresh and clean at their table.
“Me last clean shirt,” he announced, sitting across from them with tankard in hand.
“Aye, and now ye dinnae smell like a horse’s arse,” Alisdair chuckled.
Elsie swallowed down a gasp at the man’s coarse language, and leaning forward, she placed her tankard on the table.
“Well, if ye will excuse me, I’m away tae get me bath.”
“The food will be here shortly,” Keane said, gesturing for her to sit. “There’ll be plenty o’ time fer yer bath afterwards. Besides, it’ll give the maids time tae get fresh water ready.”
Clenching her teeth in frustration at once more being ordered what to do, Elsie took hold of her tankard and took a long draw on it, eyeing the laird over the rim.
I hate ye. I hate ye more than I’ve ever hated anyone or anything in me life.
As the ale danced against her lips, her anger grew, expanding from her stomach to her breast, and up into her neck. He needed his bath first, and she was to sit like a good girl and wait. What an arrogant, pompous excuse for a man.
Let’s see fer how long this will be his ‘last clean shirt’.
And before she could talk herself out of it, Elsie jumped up from her chair, pretending to trip on something beneath the table, and with her arms launching forward, the ale flew from her tankard, landing all over Keane.
“Argh,” he yelled, shoving his chair backwards.
“Och, me God,” Elsie said calmly, doing the very best she could at swallowing her delight as droplets of ale fell from his now soaking hair, landing on his already soaked shirt.
“What the hell, woman?” he bellowed.
Everyone in the tavern turned to look. A slow rumble of laughter built, until most of those in the room were chortling heartily. Even Alisdair could not hold back his amusement.
“This isnae funny,” Keane barked, flicking his hands over his shirt, as though the action might make any difference to the state he was in.
“It looks pretty funny,” Alisdair quipped back.
With a searing glare at Elsie, who was physically biting her lip with force to stop herself giggling, he stormed from the room, the thumping sound of his footfalls on the stairs loud enough for everyone to hear.
