Page 22 of Highlander's Runaway Seductress
After finding a place where they bought a filling bowl of soup they headed into the hills.
“Ye said Laird Dolberry stole this other Laird’s wife-to-be?” Amelie said. “Because her betrothed was a cruel man?”
“That’s what I heard, aye,” Damien replied. “And I forgot to tell ye. Some say Lady Dolberry gave the child to a nurse and told her to run. They attest that the woman ran to a town in Cùil Bhàicidh where she handed the child off to a lady at an orphanage.”
He heard Amelie take a strangled gasp and his head twisted to look at her. She was a bit pale and her hand was gripping on the side of the cart.
“Lass?” Ben asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I lived in an orphanage in Cùil Bhàicidh,” Amelie whispered. “None of the nuns there would tell me where I came from or give me any indication of who me parents were. I kept askin’ as I grew older but with them nae tellin’ me, I just decided to forget it.”
A heady feeling of success turned Damien’s head light—another sign that Amelie was the Laird’s daughter!
“Perhaps they did that to save ye from more grief. If they ken why ye were there, would tellin’ ye yer mother was slain so horribly do anythin’ good for ye?”
“And,” Ben added, “if the wicked Laird was still out there, they could have been protectin’ yer life from his men or those who might want to get favor from him. If ye werenae alive, nay one would be searchin’ for ye.”
“That too,” Damien added. “If word had gotten out that ye were alive, they would have come for ye. Perhaps the nurse even told the women there nae to tell anyone yer clan name just to secure yer life.”
“I never understood it could be anythin’ like that,” Amelie admitted, her tone laced with awe. “That nae havin’ a name could have saved me life.”
“It is astoundin’, I agree,” Damien mused, “but I suppose ye willnae get the full answers until we get to Dolberry.”
Their conversation wavered from suspicion of her past, to what they could do to convince the Laird that she was his daughter. The best Amelie could offer was to tell him about the old yellow dress and show him the gold pendant.
“Mayhap yer memory of the old garden,” Damien added. “He might take that into account as well.”
The three fell into a peaceful silence when Ben drifted off to sleep, and they entered the open countryside that Damien was familiar with. When he had been there, the village’s open fields had been dotted with vivid wildflowers and spring grass. Now though, the thick sheets of snow rendered the hillsides covered with snow and the ever-present mist hanging in the air between the mountains beyond.
He steered them to a tavern that had an upper level for travelers.
Though there were towns ahead, there were precious few inns this far north, and Damien knew that they would have to sleep outside until they got to Dolberry. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled at Amelie, sleeping against Ben. He knew she had not gotten much sleep after their intimate moment earlier that morning, so he did not begrudge her the rest.
The tavern had a sign of a white crane above it, and from what he saw, it looked empty. After reigning in the horse, Damien alighted and gently shook Amelie awake.
“Come on, lass, we can get ye a bed,” he motioned to the building behind him. “A good meal too, for ye and Ben.”
She blinked bleary eyes to the structure behind him and nodded. Damien held out a hand and helped her out from the bed of the cart, then went to rouse Ben.
Damien entered the tavern with them beside him and skimmed over the mostly empty tables, as one man was propped up in a corner, his weather-beaten hat pulled over his eyes.
“Damien Glogow?” A female who he had met before on his first trip, spoke from a doorway. “Is that ye?”
“Miss Binney,” he greeted with a bow of his head. “Nice to see ye again.”
Morgana Binney was a buxom woman, the fullness of her bosom almost spilling out of her neckline and her thick red hair tumbling over her shoulders and back. She was a servant woman and cook in the tavern but had, from the few words they had shared last spring, dreams of being more than the servant.
Her dark green eyes flicked to Amelie, who tensed beside Damien. “Who do ye have with ye?”
“Ailsa,” Damien lied quickly. “She’s goin’ to visit a relative in Dolberry and asked me to take her this way. And me faither, Ben, came as well. Do ye have rooms, Miss Binney?”
“Aye, we have rooms,” Morgana said, while her eyes were stuck on Amelie, “and we have enough that ye willnae have to share.”
“Thank ye,” Damien said, “what’s the cost?”
“A shillin’ each,” Morgana said while wiping her forehead. “Includes bathwater, a bed, and a meal. I just made a pot of lamb stew, and I can have bread in the oven soon.”
“We’ll take that, thank ye,” Damien replied while keeping an eye on Amelie through the corner of his eye—she looked agitated while Morgana’s eyes kept darting to her. “Please, show the way.”
