Page 28 of The Shadow of a Laird
Gavin laughed. The comment was so typical of her, giving a compliment with one hand and taking it away with the other. As he packed away his cup and plate, he said thoughtfully, “You know, Maura, I have often tried to see myself as you did at first, and I don’t think I would have liked that Gavin Forsyth either.” He suddenly became serious. “So thank you, and since we are handing out compliments today, I think you are a very good woman, and a very beautiful one too.”
Maura inclined her head in thanks and continued to pack away her things and douse the fire.
“Do you think I am a handsome man?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Why dae ye think I hired ye?” Maura asked. “Are ye fishin’ for compliments, big man?”
Gavin closed the distance between them, then wrapped his arms around her. “Yes,” he replied, smiling mischievously and trying not to look at her full, soft lips.
Maura sighed. “If it keeps ye happy, ye’re handsome. All right? Now can we get movin’?” She pushed him away.
13
Ardneuk was less of a village and more of a town, and there were five inns there. However, that day the town had hosted a huge market, with stallholders coming from miles around to do their business, so every inn there was packed.
They had just begun to despair of finding accommodation when they reached the last one, a rather rundown place called the Ox and Plough. Gavin wrinkled his nose in distaste as he saw its almost illegible battered sign hanging askew above its equally bruised doorway.
It did not look like a very inviting place, but he reasoned that beggars could not be choosers, and recalled the barn that he had tried to sleep in before he found the Goose and Gander. God forbid he should be reduced to that again!
Maura opened the door, which rattled on its hinges as she pushed it, and stepped inside, whereupon a warm feeling of familiarity settled on her. This might not be her own tavern, but it had all the appearance, the smell, and the feel of home.
The crowd, mostly men, smelled of ale and earth, and the sound of hoarse shouting and hilarity was almost deafening. There were so many of them that they were standing almostshoulder to shoulder, and Gavin had to force his way through them, with Maura following in his wake.
They arrived at the counter at last, and Gavin put a protective arm around Maura’s shoulders, which she did not fuss about. Surely, she felt distinctly vulnerable in a multitude of men. The very sight of Gavin usually put paid to any bad intentions on their part.
However, she was surprised, when she saw the proprietor, to realise that she recognised him. At the same moment, the tall, balding middle-aged man gave her a warm, welcoming smile. “Maura!” he cried, “what a surprise! ‘Tis so good tae see ye.”
Maura was delighted that John Cunningham, a close friend of her father’s, now owned the inn. She had known him since she was a little girl, and felt much safer now that she knew she was under his roof. She also thought that they had a much better chance of finding lodging, since she was sure he would make room for her somewhere.
“Uncle John!” she cried, laughing. “I am glad tae see you too. Dae ye have a room for us?”
The big man’s face fell, and he shook his head sadly. “I have nae rooms left, Maura, I am so sorry.”
“Are ye sure, Uncle John?” she persisted. “Anythin’ will dae, just tae keep us fae freezin’.”
The man frowned, looking at her uncomfortably, and Maura immediately saw that he had been lying. “There is a room, is there no’?” she persisted, treating him to the stare that she used when she wanted to intimidate, an unwavering, penetrating glare.
John sighed, and his gaze slid away from hers. “Aye, there is, hen,” he replied. “But it only has one bed, an’ your Da wouldnae be very happy wi’ me if he knew I was lettin’ ye sleep wi’ a young man.”
Gavin spoke up then. “Maura is not an ordinary lass, sir,” he said firmly. He added thesiras an extra touch. “I respect her immensely, and I have no bad intentions towards her at all. I will be happy to sleep on the floor if you give me an extra blanket.”
John Cunningham looked at him shrewdly. He prided himself on being a good judge of character, and there was something about this big, strong man that he liked.
“Ye can have the room, then,” he said at last.
Maura smiled at him. “Thank ye, Uncle John,” she said gratefully. “We have been walkin’ a’ day an’ will be glad tae get our heads down.”
Gavin nodded to the landlord and held out his hand for the keys. When he received them, he took Maura’s hand and led her upstairs. Maura was intensely relieved; until this moment, she had not been aware of how afraid she was.
The room was on the upper floor, and it was as depressing and decrepit as the rest of the place. There were spaces between the slates in the roof which allowed rain to leak in, and buckets on the floor to catch the drips. The bed was just about wide enough for two average-sized adults, and a chamber pot was tucked underneath it.
Gavin was much bigger than average, but he would not be sleeping there anyway, he thought sadly. It was not much of a consolation, though.
A rough wooden chair stood by the side of the bed and there was a washstand underneath the tiny window, whose wooden shutters were worn and splintered. A layer of dirty straw covered the floor, and the whole place was absolutely freezing.
Gavin looked around, then thought wryly of his bedroom at Duncairn Castle, the silk brocade curtains, carved mahogany furniture, silk rugs and crystal vases of flowers. Then he reminded himself that he had almost been forced to sleep in the gutter—twice—and suddenly, his situation did not seem so bad.He laughed inwardly; now he was really seeing how the other half lived!
Maura put her sack down on the bed and glanced around her. This kind of accommodation was not strange to her at all; she would be content as long as she was warm. However, as she looked at Gavin, she realised that she could not possibly let him sleep on the floor.
