The Highlander Who Stole Christmas - Eliza Knight Page 0,7
top of her head tapping against his chin, nearly making him bite his tongue. The snake pit was going to be a reprieve away from this temptress. She didn’t even realize how much she was…bothering him. Perhaps it was just that it had been so long since he’d been with a woman. Not that he found the adventurous lass in his lap to be of any interest at all.
“’Tis there.” He indicated the tavern just a stone’s throw away to get his mind off her squirming, enticing body.
The tavern was built of thick, heavy stones. Tiny windows barely emitted any candlelight now that it was morning, but come night, the wee squares of light would lure in weary travelers.
The thatched roof was covered in thick snow, and Thane wondered how long it would take before a part of it collapsed in on the inhabitants. Given the state of the inside, he’d hazard to guess very soon.
Thane led Destiny on a path that had been recently cleared around the back of the tavern to where the stable was located. A young lad stood in the doorway, rubbing his hands together. A shovel leaned on the side of the stone building beside him. Clearly, he was the one who had shoveled the path. Another lad shoved him aside with an armload of wood. They’d have a nice fire going on inside to keep themselves and the horses warm. A small curl of smoke leached from the ceiling, which was good. At least they’d managed to keep the chimney clear.
“Got room for another?” Thane called.
The lad nodded and hopped forward on feet that were probably frozen. He reached for the reins, holding tight while they dismounted, each of them grabbing their respective satchels.
“Gonna cost ye, but Balthazar will collect inside,” the lad said, teeth chattering.
“Thanks, lad.” Thane reached into his sporran and pulled out a coin. “For ye and the others in the stables. Keep my mount well.”
“Aye, sir. Thank ye.” The lad led Destiny inside, telling him exuberantly how much oats he was about to have for his breakfast. He called over his shoulder, “Ye can go in the door to the kitchens rather than trudge about.”
“Thank ye.” He took Sarah by the hand. Her fingers were small, slim and freezing. “Goodness, ye should have told me how cold ye were.”
“No’ my place to complain, though, is it?”
Saints, did she really think he meant to torture her on top of the abduction? “’Tis no’ complaining. I dinna want ye to lose a finger.”
“Ye dinna?” She glanced up at him, and he could figure out the rest of what she meant, that a finger was a lot smaller of a thing to lose than one’s life.
The truth was he didn’t want her to lose a finger—not even a hair on her head.
“Remember what we discussed,” Thane said gruffly. “Munros on the way back from Lindsey lands.”
“I’ll no’ forget.” She shuddered, and he had a feeling it was not from the cold.
The kitchens were smoky and filled with shouted orders as scullions rushed to follow the head cook’s demands. It smelled enticing, rich with herbs and baking scones. There was a savory scent that belied the large pot of porridge being ladled into bowls from the hearth fire. All of the aromas reminded Sarah how little she’d eaten in the last few days, since she’d been so worried about the Christmas Eve celebration and subsequent auction of her life.
Thane had offered her nothing but a canteen of water on their ride here, and she hadn’t asked for more. It had been the middle of the night, after all, and he wasn’t responsible for her having missed supper. Besides, she’d spent most of the time sleeping, keeping warm and trying to refrain from annoying him so he wouldn’t change his mind and take her back to her brothers.
“Get out, ye rapscallions!” shouted the cook, swinging a ladle in their direction. A few speckles of porridge hit Sarah’s cheeks. “Food will come when ’tis good and ready.”
Thane ducked the swinging utensil, and the second fling of oats. Barely having time to wipe her face, Sarah followed suit, rushing from the kitchens. However, they went the wrong way and ended up in the scullery room, where they were met by a buxom redhead who greeted them with a saucy grin, her hands buried in a wash bin full of dishes.
“Och, but ye’ll no’ be doing your dirty business in here, ye two.” She pointed toward the door,