The Scot's Secret - Cecelia Mecca Page 0,37

arm around Alfred and pulled him toward the hall.

Why had he thought this a good idea? He’d knowingly brought Clara to an inn infamous for activities beyond eating, sleeping, and drinking. He’d put her in the company of Bo and Berit. All for a warm bed?

And a night away from you.

Alex wasn’t sure where she’d be in more danger.

And so they were escorted into the chaotic heart of The Anvil Inn. A large fire roared in the corner, and Bo’s wife smacked a servant on the head, presumably for tossing a log into it before it was needed. Music played, though not likely the kind Clara had once listened to in her own hall, wherever that may be. This flutist played a fast tune, one that prompted dancing, and not a very proper kind. Its fast pace acted as encouragement to the patrons, who’d likely sampled the ale for many hours, and more skin was exposed than was appropriate in a public space.

But it was only when one of the women, likely hired by Berit, stood on one of the trestle tables and flipped her skirts up, giving everyone a clear view of her attributes, that Alex took action. He was getting her out of here.

“Nay!” She threw back the hand he’d wrapped about her arm. “I can handle this,” she whispered frantically.

The hell she could.

He gently pushed her toward the corridor that led to the rooms upstairs.

“Alex, I said nay.” He wasn’t sure if her words or the tone stilled his hands. But when he looked into her eyes, he immediately took his hands off her. For her own reasons, Clara wanted to stay.

By all that was holy, this damned woman was stubborn.

Fine.

They would both stay.

Bo and Berit moved off, taking a bag of grain from the store room just off the great room into the kitchens.

Alex and Clara sat, and when a serving wench slapped two tankards of ale in front of them without asking what either wanted to drink, Alex knew it would be a long night.

“And two meat pies?” he asked.

In response to the sharp look he was given, he rewarded the servant with a smile that he knew would have them treated well for the night.

Unfortunately, the suggestion would also get him a willing maid in his bed if he wasn’t careful.

“Anything for you, mi’lord.”

She walked toward him and promptly sat on his lap. He didn’t chance a look at Clara.

“I thought ye wanted a meal is all.” She wrapped her arms about his neck and leaned closer. “But if yer needing something more, I’m happy to oblige, mi’lord.” As if to secure her position, she reached between his legs before he knew what she was about. “If ’tis always so hard, then mayhap you’ll stay for more than just one night to entertain me.”

Releasing him, she stood, presumably to get their repast.

He forced himself not to look at Clara. It wouldn’t do if anyone saw him looking at her with more interest than a master would spare his squire, but despite her disguise, he no longer saw a lad when he looked at her. Only a breathtaking woman.

The servant returned with their meal.

“And how ’bout yer little squire. Have ye ever even kissed a girl, lad?”

She leaned down, as if intent on giving Clara a demonstration, and Alex forced a hand between them.

“I don’t share.”

It was the first thing he could think to say. But besides earning him a befuddled glance from Clara, the comment served its purpose.

“Later, mi’lord.” She walked away with a wink.

“Alex—”

“Alfred—”

They turned toward each other.

“We can’t stay here,” he said.

“I love this place!” she said.

They’d spoken at the same time, and it took him a moment to understand her words.

“Are you mad? Bo and Berit have more women working here now than ever. It’s less an inn than it was the last time I passed through. We’re eating our meal and—”

“And mayhap you’ll allow me some decisions? Or as your squire, am I not—”

“You are most certainly not my squire.”

He ignored everything around them. The music, the lewd behavior. The two English knights who had been staring at him since they’d arrived. Instead, he looked at his companion sitting across from him at the table made for two. It was unique—Alex had seen only a few such tables before—it afforded a unique intimacy that was not typical of a common dining hall.

“If not your squire, then what am I?” Clara asked in an undertone.

He leaned down to whisper, “A woman