Page 28 of The Guardian's Bride
“Is that an inn?” She pointed toward the village street and a two-story house with a painted sign. Horses were tied to posts in the kailyard. “I could stay there while you sail to Fife. I have enough coin to rent a room. Then you need not bother with me.”
“You are persistent, I give you that. But you are no bother, and this region is crawling with English. I will not leave a lady alone in an inn by the riverside, let alone a lady hunted by Edward’s thugs.”
“We could have a meal there,” she said. Anything to avoid getting on a boat.
“Rowena Keith,” he said, turning. “What is it about boats, hey?”
She frowned, looked away. “Being on water makes me feel ill.”
“It will be a barge here. Not much.”
“I nearly drowned once,” she said in a rush. “In a loch, in a storm. I fell off a boat. My father jumped in and got me. But—it was terrifying.” She shrugged. “So I do not enjoy being on the water.”
“I understand.” He gazed at her, looked away, sighed. “We could use some food.”
“At the inn, aye.”
“But we must travel by water, lass, to lose those guards. First let me secure passage on the river. Then we might pick up pies. You will be fine. I promise.” He smiled, reached out, cupped her shoulder.
She felt her lip quivering at his quiet kindness. “Promise.”
He beckoned, and she walked with him. The quay was not busy, just a few men milling about. Further up the river, she saw a barge heading east toward the sea under the gathering twilight. She held back by instinct, and he turned.
“We will go together to Fife and then Kincraig. We will put our trust in each other, aye?”
She sighed, preferring solid land under her feet. But he was right. Trust and togetherness were necessary now. “Aye.”
He took her hand and strode toward the quay, where a man working knots in ropes attached to a post looked up. “Oy, sir! My wife and I are headed to Edinburgh and would ride the river part of the way. Have you a boat ready?”
“Edinburgh?” Rowena asked, confused, wondering what he had in mind now.
“Grizel, hush,” Aedan said from the corner of his mouth.
“It is dark for sailing east now.” The man looked at Aedan’s helmet and red surcoat, then at Rowena in her drab garments. “English knight, sir? You talk like a Scot.”
“All sorts serve the king. My bride and I would travel east by the river.” MacDuff set a firm hand on her shoulder.
“The barge is out now and will not return until late. Poling the river in darkness costs more, unless you have the fee. Best return early in the morning.”
“We will be here first light.” MacDuff thanked him and drew Rowena away with him. “Listen now,” he said as they walkedaway. “I know you need to go to Kincraig, but you should know that there is something in Fife that cannot wait if men are on my tail. We shall toss a coin to decide the matter once and for all, aye?” He showed a silver coin in his palm. “Do you play chance games? I make most of my decisions that way.”
“You do not,” she said, giving him a wry look. “Half what you say is in jest, though you are cannier than you let on.”
“Am I?” He grinned and flipped the coin. “Heads! I win. East it is. After that, we go to Kincraig. I keep a promise,” he reminded her. “Besides, best you stay with me. I know your crime.” He tipped a brow.
“And I know your name,” she replied in a saucy tone, feeling relieved that they need not sail immediately.
“It is a worrisome detail,” he groused. “Are you hungry? To the inn, then. We will have to stay the night there.”
Her heart quailed a bit. “What if the guards go there?”
“Ah. True.” He frowned, then nodded. “Come this way.” She followed him toward a dense crescent of woodland behind the inn. “I should change out of this English gear. If anyone asks the boatman, he saw only an English knight and a bonny lass.”
“I thought Grizel was plain.”
“Not to me.” He walked toward a cluster of beeches behind the inn and stopped beneath the wide spread of an enormous beech. Stepping behind it, he took off the helmet and quilted cap, set them down, and began to struggle out of the surcoat.
“Let me.” She reached up to help pull the surcoat away. He straightened his brown tunic and trews, then fastened the belt around his hips, settled the sporran, and took the plaid Rowena handed him. Draping it over his left shoulder, he tucked the front part in his belt and took a broad brooch from the sporran to fix it on his shoulder. He looked a very fine Highlander, she thought, admiring him.
