A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,162
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, droplets of water flinging in their direction. “Back to the common room with ye.”
Sarah’s face heated, and she was sure it flamed as red as her own hair at what the woman suggest with that line about “dirty business.” She might not be as worldly as some, but she knew exactly what that referenced.
“We got turned around,” Thane explained. “We just arrived and came in the back door.”
The irritation dissipated from the woman’s face. “Well, in that case, welcome to Balthazar’s. He’s my da. I’m Carrie, and this is our tavern. Will ye be taking a room?”
“Aye, that would be verra much appreciated,” Thane said.
“Of course, I’m just back here helping out while I waited for my own room to be tidied up after it was let out to someone else.” The woman narrowed her eyes, wet, red hands on her hips. “Ye wouldna be here causin’ trouble, would ye? We’ve had a few troublemakers about the past fortnight or so.”
“Oh, nay,” they both answered at the same time. Then as if they’d been playing this game for more than a few minutes, they glanced at each other and laughed like two lovebirds.
“Sorry,” Sarah said with a giggle. “Newlyweds. I’m S—Samantha Lindsey, I mean Samantha Munro now. This is my husband—Tobias Munro.”
“Och, I see. Welcome, welcome and congratulations. Ye’ll have a round of ale on us, I’ll see to that. Go on out to the common room, and in the meantime, I’ll have a room set up. Oh,” she squealed. “And one more thing. I’ve go’ a special room here, my Chamber of Sorrow, if