Page 72 of Bride of Mist
The inn was large, clean, and cheery, just as he’d recalled. There was a wee garden and an orchard on one side, providing fresh fare for supper, and a small stable for horses in back.
When they arrived, however, the innkeeper had bad tidings for Dougal.
“Ye’re out o’ luck, I’m afraid, sir. I’ve just given away the best bedchamber.” He leaned forward to confide in a pleased whisper, “A Very Important Guest has taken lodgin’s at The Stag’s Head.”
Dougal frowned. It was on the tip of his tongue to inform the innkeeper that he had a very important guest with him—a Warrior Maid of Rivenloch. But disclosing that would have been foolish.
“Ye’ve got naught?”
The innkeeper shook his head. “Nothin’ private.”
“Shite.”
Dougal glanced at the road-weary niece of the Laird of Rivenloch sitting by the fire. She was unwrapping the bandage around her arm to take a peek. He’d promised her a hot bath and a soft bed. It was what she deserved. He couldn’t break this news to her.
Then another idea occurred to him. He drew his dagger and set it flat on the counter so the innkeeper could see the jeweled hilt.
“Do ye think yourVery Important Guestcould be persuaded to surrender his chamber for the right price?”
Normally, innkeepers were more than willing to bargain. For an extra coin, they would rent out a stall in their stables or a pallet by the hearth. But to Dougal’s surprise, the man looked mortified.
“Och nay, sir,” he said, his eyes round with shock. “That I cannot do.”
Dougal glared at him in disbelief and nodded to the dagger. “Those are emeralds and rubies.”
The innkeeper nervously licked his lips. “I’m sure they are,” he murmured, “and I’d love to oblige, but this is aVeryImportant Guest.” Then he looked around the room to make sure no one was listening and whispered, “Just between us…” He lifted proud brows. “’Tis the king himself.”
Dougal only stared at him. That was unlikely. What would King Malcolm be doing in this remote part of Scotland? Without his retinue? Staying at The Stag’s Head Inn?
“Alone?” he asked.
“Nay, he came with a servant.”
If the innkeeper hadn’t refused Dougal’s offer of jewels, Dougal would have thought the man was mad. King Malcolm was still a lad. Unless he’d escaped his minders at Edinburgh, it was preposterous that the king would be traveling through the countryside unguarded.
But he had to believe the innkeeper was telling the truth. And he supposed it was possible Malcolm was secretly visiting the corners of his kingdom. He wouldn’t be the first king to do so. More could be learned about the honest condition of things when a visit was unannounced.
But that led him to wonder, “Where is he headed?”
The innkeeper shrugged.
Dougal ran a hand over his stubbled chin. If the king was headed west, toward Darragh, his problems had just multiplied. The last thing he needed was to get caught in a conflict between Rivenloch, mac Giric, his own clan, and the king.
Meanwhile, the innkeeper was eyeing the jeweled dagger, chewing at the corner of his lip. “I could rent yemyquarters. I’d just have to let the wife know.”
“Done,” Dougal agreed quickly, before the innkeeper could have second thoughts. “And supper?”
“The wife’s got it simmerin’ o’er the fire.”
“A hot bath?”
The innkeeper winced and sucked a breath between his teeth. “The wife would have to fill it.”
Dougal nodded toward the dagger. “And what would the wife prefer for her trouble? An emerald or a ruby?”
A half-hour later, after washing down a sumptuous lamb pottage with too many foamy cups of strong ale, Dougal and Feiyan were ushered to their chamber by the sweaty-faced innkeeper’s wife.
“I’ve changed the linens,” she assured them. “There’s a fire goin’ and a wee bath with buckets o’ hot water beside.” Then, as she opened the door, she whispered to Dougal, “We’ve got a Very Important Guest on the other side o’ the wall, so if ye and your wife could…” She pressed a finger to her lips.
