Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,18

come.

A dozen small tables scattered around one half of the room, half of them occupied by men and women, talking quietly over their tankards.

Declan had already crossed to the back, where a waist high bar divided the room, where an older woman, round face framed by the drape of her veil, kept an eye on things.

“Gavin,” Declan called, “Come meet Mistress Neva. Runs the finest inn in all of Kinallen.”

The woman rolled her eyes and came out from behind the bar with a soft rolling step, calling over her shoulder. “We’ve got guests, Erold. You’re in charge.”

A young man hurried up from the kitchens, taking her place

“He says you’re his new partner,” Neva shook her head. “He’s a fool in most things but not business. I expect you’ll do well enough.”

She turned a warm smile on Esme. “And newly wed. How exciting!”

Esme lowered her head demurely, leaving Gavin to answer.

“Ready to start our new life together,” he said, pulling Esme in just a bit more closely.

For the act, of course.

“Well let’s go ahead and get you settled up in your rooms,” she said, leading the way towards the staircase. “I’ll have hot water sent up so you can refresh yourself.”

Neva passed down the hall with doors off to either side, finally stopping.

“Here you are, Declan, same as always. The boys will bring your trunks up shortly.”

“But for a newlywed couple…” She smiled, patting Gavin on the cheek much to his bewilderment. “I think we can do something a little better.” She led them all the way to the end of the hall and threw open the door. “Nicest room in the house,” she said.

Gavin couldn’t have said how it was decorated, or what else might have earned the room the accolade of being the nicest.

He could only notice the single bed.

Damnit.

10

Esme took a deep breath and smiled.

Mistress Neva must have strewn the drawers of the low chest in the corner fairly heavily with para leaves for her to be able to smell them all the way from here.

Maybe it was a sign, something from home.

A large window let in the late afternoon sun, and every bit of wood in the room gleamed in the warm rays.

A brightly painted forest scene decorated the plastered wall above the bed.

“It’s lovely,” she told their hostess. “Thank you so much.”

The older woman came over to squeeze her outstretched hand. “My granddaughter did the painting herself,” she said, bright eyes framed by a fine network of lines. “Just a little slip of the thing, but loves making pictures.”

“She might almost have a gift for it,” Esme answers. “It makes me feel a little more like I’m at home.”

Mistress Neva’s hands flew to her mouth. “This isn’t your first night away, surely,” she whispered, glancing quickly at Gavin who stood across the room next to the chest he’d carried up, gazing out the window.

“No, no,” Esme hastened to reassure her. “We’re not that newly wed.”

Neva patted her arm. “You just come find me there’s anything you need while you’re here. I’ve had three husbands, all of them good men. Not much I don’t know about being married.”

Heat rose in Esme’s cheeks.

Probably just as well. This kindly woman would expect her to have a certain amount of naivete.

But the image of her and Gavin, together on that bed, doing all things that couples did to each other, lit a fire in her that was entirely different than embarrassment.

From across the room Gavin coughed sharply, turned to watch her with narrowed eyes, as if he’d caught her thoughts from the air.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Esme answered quickly. “That’s very nice of you.”

A young boy came hurrying into the room, carrying an earthenware pitcher with painstaking attention. He placed it on the top of the dresser next to a shallow basin.

“Hot water, mistress,” the boy said and scurried back out of the room.

“I’ll let the two of you freshen up,” Neva said. “You just take your time.”

The door closed behind her and Esme braced herself to meet Gavin’s gaze.

He hadn’t moved from the window, the light outlining his massive form,

He wore the vest she’d first seen him in over a loose tunic, the long puffy sleeves covering the talking bracelet at his wrist, pants tucked into boots that seemed just a little too new.

Even dressed to fit in, he still carried the air of something wild.

Something dangerous.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as his eyes searched her face.

He coughed again, turned back to the window. “Nothing,” he