it, she leaned in a little close, speaking conspiratorially. “On the other side of this wall is my Chamber of Sorrow.” Carrie glanced down at her feet, then back up at them brightly with her green eyes. “I’m hoping the souls whose possessions I’ve got displayed there will bless your union. And that it will bring me good luck in finding my own gentleman husband.”
And what type of gentleman would that be—an English dragoon or a Jacobite rebel? Somehow, she managed to mask her musings and offer her thanks enthusiastically.
“Gave ye the best bed in the tavern. Sheets have been cleaned recently. Dinna mind about the table, it will make do.”
As soon as Carrie and Balthazar shut the door behind them, Sarah turned to Thane. His handsome features were masked with indifference, but then his brooding gaze latched onto hers.
Mildly teasing, but partly serious, Sarah said, “Just where in blazes have ye brought me, sir? I promised to behave. Ye need no’ have added torture to your abduction.”
Thane raised his brows, arms crossing over the wide expanse of his muscled chest. “I could leave ye here. Maybe Cook will stop swinging her ladle long enough to offer ye a position?”
Chapter Four
Sarah laughed. “Were ye sotted on your last sojourn? Or is this what I should expect of the Shaw holding?”
Thane grunted, smirking at her joke, before quickly wiping away his mirth. They were supposed to be enemies. They were enemies. He’d abducted her, even if she had come willingly.
“I wish I could say I was, and no, Shaw is an oasis of calm,” he drawled, turning his gaze to their private hell. The chamber was not as unwelcoming as the common area of the tavern, and Thane was more than happy to take it for the night. Hopefully, that was all they would need it for.
“Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it!”
Though this floor was also dirt-packed, a carpet that appeared recently beaten lay on the floor beside the bed, which was shoved against a wall.
The wooden bed frame sagged from the lumpy straw mattress that appeared to weigh an unfathomably vast amount, and tossed on top of it was a plain wool blanket. At least it did look clean, as Carrie had said. She and her father seemed like they aimed to please. If he’d been on better terms with them, perhaps a regular, Thane might have told them a simple redecorating of the main tavern room would bring in more guests. But they seemed smart enough to have figured that out on their own, which meant they probably purposefully kept it…rustic.
Two stools flanked a small table that was missing half a leg, but an upside-down bucket had been placed to steady it. Best rented chamber in the place—that was saying a lot. He kind of wished that Balthazar had opened the other chamber door, so he’d have something to compare it to.
Perhaps there was a certain charm in providing such a medieval tavern to those looking to go back in time. A time when Scotland had not been trampled over by dragoons. Saints, but he could not remember such a time ever having existed.
Thane turned away from the bed to investigate a crumbling iron brazier that had seen better days. The room was chilly and could do with a bit of heat. He picked up the poker resting on the rim and jabbed at the half-burned logs in the cavern. One of them crumbled to ash, sending up a plumb of dust, which had them both waving in front of their faces and coughing.
“I’m no’ that cold,” Sarah said with a cough and a laugh.
Thane groaned and dropped the poker. “Good. I’m afraid if I light it, the whole room will blaze.”
“It might go to flame anyhow with the way it was roaring in the kitchen and the common room.” She giggled and backed away from the brazier. Either she was daft, or she was the type of person who always seemed to look on the bright side of the coin. While he wanted to think it was the former, he was fairly certain it was the latter, which only ended up endearing her to him.
“I hardly noticed,” he quipped. “Though I did wonder if ye were going to lick the oats off your face.”
“Ha! Maybe I should have, for I am starving.” Sarah tossed her satchel onto the bed, and surprisingly a plume of dust did not rise with it.
Carrie had not fibbed about cleaning the