Page 31 of The Guardian's Bride
Aedan ate hungrilyof a hot meat pie, thick with carrots, onion, and lamb, followed by cheese and wheat bread with salty butter. He noticed with mild surprise that Rowena Keith had a good appetite for a small woman, unless she was acting the role of expectant mother. The lass adapted well, he would give her that, especially with all he had asked from her so far.
And more to come, he thought, glancing out the window to keep a wary eye for anyone on the road or approaching the inn. At the first hint of danger, he would whisk Rowena up to the hired chamber quick as could be.
The innkeeper’s wife returned to their table with a tray holding jugs and cups.
“Ale or wine? We have water too if you really want it.” She set the tray down.
“No ale,” Aedan said quickly. “Wine if it is well watered—for my lady.”
“Is the water fresh from a stream, or boiled?” Rowena asked.
“My wife is in a delicate state,” Aedan explained.
“We fetch water from the stream that runs behind the inn, not from the river.” She set down the tray, poured clear water into the wine jug, and shook it. “Your chamber is ready. When you pay, I will give you the key.” She picked up the tray and left.
“Delicate state?” Rowena looked at him.
“Boiled water?”
“Water near a town or river may be dirty. Clean water is better for health.”
“Sensible enough. Do you prefer water, or will you have wine?”
“A little wine. Let me pour. Ah, it is dark red even watered. Good grapes.” She poured the glistening liquid into one cup. He held up a hand.
“Just water for me, lass.” She sent him an odd look, poured a cup of water, and slid it toward him. “I drink very little wine or ale,” he explained.
“Some have a weakness for strong drink. If so, I applaud you for avoiding it.”
“Not that. It gives me the headache,” he muttered. He rarely mentioned the weakness, but felt at ease with Rowena. “Takes very little. Sometimes just a few sips. I need my head clear, hey?”
She nodded, sipped wine, nibbled a bit of the small pie on the wooden trencher. Then she glanced at him curiously. “How long were you held at Yester?”
“About a month.”
“Surely they gave you wine or ale often.”
“Watery stuff, bitter and awful. Enough about that.” He grabbed a chunk of bread, dragged it through the butter, and took a bite. “Good bread. We are close enough to the English border here to get wheat bread.”
She tore off a small piece and buttered it with a spoon. “It is rare in the north.” When she popped the still-warm piece in her mouth and gave a little groan of pleasure, Aedan wished suddenly she did not love it quite so much.
“It does not grow well in northern Scotland, where the soil is loamy with peat and too rocky. We have some better success in Fife. But the English have cut off imports and supplies to Scotland where they can, so bread is even harder to get.”
“Sassenachs can keep their wheat. Oatcakes and bannocks are good fare, so we do not miss bread in the Highlands. Your castle in Fife, is it—”
“Hush.” He glanced around. “An easy reach tomorrow, I hope. With luck we can shake off any who follow. Later we will go where you wish to go.”
“Aye, dear Hamish,” she said.
He smiled a little, enjoying the pleasant wee game. Looking past her through the window, where pewter-colored clouds swept a storm along, he saw riders on the road. “We should go up now.” He stood and brought her to her feet. “Careful, Grizel dear.”
She cupped a hand beneath the burden she carried under her gown, set the other hand to her back, and took a few waddling steps. Aedan felt a quick sense of how much he owed this lass, not the least for her willing ruse here.
As they approached the stairs, Aedan turned to the innkeeper’s wife, standing nearby. “Good dame,” he said, and handed the woman more coins than required. “No one disturbs us, aye? My wife needs her rest.”
As he spoke, the inn’s door blew open, and three men in chainmail stepped inside, damp winds billowing their cloaks. Aedan turned away and urged the Keith lass upward quickly. Realizing that the helmet was tilting her off balance, he set a hand to her back. Behind him, he heard the men talking but could not make out what they said.
“Let me be, Hamish MacDonald. You will trip me up on these steps!” Rowena said, loud enough to be heard.
