fast. Well done, old chap.” Rafe turned and walked into the inn.
“Why did he say that? Why three rooms?” Lydia paused as she counted in her head. A room for Rafe and Brodie, a room for the valets, and a room for her. Well . . . that was thoughtful. So why did that make Rafe laugh? Did he find it amusing that Brodie would let her have her own room?
She followed Rafe into the inn and tried to ignore the heat of Brodie’s body as he stayed close behind her. The inn was busy, and nearly every table was full. Rafe leaned against the bar, one leg bent casually as he leaned in to speak to a man at the bar. The man handed Rafe three sets of keys.
Brodie put a possessive arm around her waist. “Over here, lass.” They wound their way around the tables to one of the few empty ones left. Rafe passed by them on his way toward the door and tossed Brodie a key.
“Where is he going?” Lydia asked.
“To see to the coach and horses. We’ll be resting the horses rather than changing them.”
“Oh.” She took a seat, and Brodie joined her, pulling her tight to him, his arm staying around her waist. “Mr. Kincade, please, do not”
“Hush. This is one of my rules. You are never to leave my side in a place such as this. And before you argue, ’tis not my pride but your safety I’m thinking of.”
Lydia did not disagree with that. The men around her eyed her with open interest. One rather frightening looking man even leered at her.
“Pretty piece of muslin you have there,” he said to Brodie. “How much for a quick taste?”
Brodie’s hand on her waist tightened. “She is, isn’t she? But I canna share her. She’s my wife, you ken. No good Scot ever shares his woman, especially his wife.”
If Lydia hadn’t already been controlling her expression, she would have jolted at Brodie calling her his wife. It was only for the sake of dissuading the interest of the other men, but it still startled her.
“Ah, some men aren’t so picky where coin is involved. If’n you change your mind, I’ll be here.” The man winked at Lydia.
She scooted closer to Brodie, a wave of panic making it hard to breathe. What if he changed his mind about her? What if he became upset with her and tossed her to dreadful men such as these? She had no money, no way to get home. She was not brave like Joanna, nor was she clever or inventive like Lysandra. She was a woman with little choice but to throw herself at the mercy of Brodie Kincade.
“You’re trembling,” Brodie whispered in her ear as two glasses of wine were brought over.
“Please, Mr. Kincade, do not give me to those men.” She expected him to laugh and say he might just do that if she didn’t please him. Instead, he seemed quite furious, but not with her.
“I wouldna do that. I’ll not let a man lay a hand on you, you ken? You’re safe with me, lass.”
She hated that lass sounded wonderful on his lips. She placed one of her hands on his. “You mean that? You swear it?”
“I do.” He nudged her glass of wine. “Now, drink up. I’ll have some food brought over.” He waved the serving maid down and ordered three bowls of soup. Rafe joined them a few minutes later.
“Not the safest crowd here tonight. Quite a number of ruffians outside.” Rafe said this calmly to Brodie, like he was reporting on the weather.
“Aye. Someone offered to pay me for time with Miss Hunt.”
“Oh, that’s famous,” Rafe chuckled. “Did you kill him?” He glanced around. “Should I ask where you hid the body?”
“I thought it best not to rip off any arms before we had our dinner.”
“Quite right. Wouldn’t do to spoil our appetite.” Rafe grinned at Lydia, as if she were somehow in on the joke.
When they had finished their meal, Brodie reached for her hand. “You had better get some rest. The horses will be fresh tomorrow morning.” He led her upstairs, stopping at one of the rooms and handing her the key Rafe had given him.
“Lock yourself in,” Brodie counseled.
“Oh, but I need a maid,” she whispered. “Could you send one of the young ladies from downstairs up to see me?”