Page 66 of Peregrine's Call
Pierce muttered something under his breath.
Robin suspected he hoped that the lure of a hot meal and a soft bed would make Tav sleep while Pierce escaped. Pierce underestimated Octavian, though. The knight would never let down his guard. He’d watch until dawn if he had to, no matter if it deprived him of his own rest.
But he’d already suffered several days and nights of short sleep and hard travel. No matter how highly trained and dedicated he was, Tav was mortal. If only Robin could talk sense into Pierce, or exact a promise that he’d stay put. But how could she trust the ever-changeable lord?
A short while later, Robin wondered if Pierce would even survive long enough to make an escape attempt. The inn’s servants would surely want to murder him, given the chance. He wanted more firewood stacked up in his private chamber, just in case. He wanted fresh rushes strewn near the bed. He wanted chopped meat brought up expressly for Govannon. He wanted a pillow expressly for Govannon. The servants were a maid of about fourteen years old and younger boy. Their coloring and expressions were so similar that Robin didn’t even ask if they were siblings. The girl nodded mutely at every request, though her expression grew pinched by her third trek up the stairs. The boy groused at the many trips to the woodpile, but looked astonished when Octavian offered to help.
“No, sir! Mum would strike me flat if she saw a guest doing my job!”
So the two weren’t just siblings, they were the children of the innkeeper herself, Robin thought. They lived and worked together every day of their lives. She watched the girl pause in her duties to whisper a joke to her brother and felt a pang at the closeness they shared.
Then Pierce demanded hot water for a bath, which the servants brought. Then he claimed the water wasn’t hot enough. So they brought hotter water, enough to scald a person. Just as Pierce was about to tell the girl to assist him in bathing, Robin dismissed her. The girl gave her a relieved glance and fled the room.
“Now who will help me?” he asked.
Robin said, “You seem old enough to bathe yourself.”
“It’s less satisfying that way.”
She sighed in annoyance at his innuendo, but she still felt a flush creep into her cheeks. However, Pierce ceased his taunting and took his bath without further discussion. Robin kept her attention on the fire, tending it more than necessary. Behind her, she heard only some splashing and one warning for Govannon to stay away from the folded towel.
A moment later, Pierce said, “Robin, the cat is sleeping on my towel! Grab it!”
“The cat or the towel?” she asked as she stood up. She turned around, and only then realized that Pierce had stood up in the bath, his naked, dripping-wet body fully on display from the back.
Robin squeezed her eyes shut. “Some warning would be appreciated!”
“Apologies,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
She edged past him to reach for the towel, which was indeed beset by a feline conqueror. She picked Govannon up, earning a hiss as he tried to wriggle free. Then she snatched the towel and held it out to Pierce, trying not to look at him more than necessary.
Pierce was handsome, she had to admit, and not for the first time. He was much more slender than Octavian, but well muscled and well proportioned.
“Like what you see, my lady?” he teased.
“I wasn’t looking!” she denied.
“You were.”
“You may dream,” she retorted, unconsciously echoing a phrase she used before, on the night he kissed her without asking leave.
“Perhaps I do, little Robin,” he said in a lower voice. Something in it made her shiver. Robin wasn’t used to the idea of being dreamt about—and part of her felt a thrill to be told she was. Even if it was by the liar Lord Pierce.
“Get dressed if you want to eat supper,” she said, avoiding the uncomfortable topic of whether Pierce dreamed about her. “I’ll wait outside.”
She was leaning against the corridor wall when Octavian came up the stairs. He looked curiously at her. “What’s happening?”
“His lordship is taking a bath,” she muttered. “I’m here making sure he really finishes the bath and doesn’t sneak out of the inn. What were you up to?” She was so glad she stepped out when she did. She would have died of embarrassment if Tav knew she’d overseen any part of Pierce’s bathing.
“I saw to the horses, and I also needed to re-oil my armor and weapons. I’d neglected them too long.”
By which he meant a day, Robin knew.
All three of them went down for supper. Robin’s stomach was nearly folding in on itself, she was so hungry.
In the tavern room, the other guests were locals who came to enjoy a meal and a drink in a friendlier, livelier atmosphere than their own homes. They didn’t bother the newcomers, but Robin noticed how they kept looking over and talking to each other about the three strangers. Confusion and curiosity showed in their eyes. And why not? The trio was unique. First there was Pierce, a man who spent money and acted like a lord, but looked like a beggar. Then Octavian, a man with skin darker than anyone here had ever seen, but attired and armed as a knight. Some people were no doubt wondering where Tav was from, and others were trying to sort out whether he was Pierce’s vassal or his jailer.
And Robin herself defied all logic. She was dressed in a simple, modest green wool gown she’d taken from Willesden, so at least she looked like a woman instead of a boy. She wasn’t a wife to either of them. By her actions, she wasn’t a servant to either of them. So what was she? Society tended to frown on women without an obvious role.
