A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,163
ye’d like to pay respects to anyone that ye lost in the battle. Doesna matter the side. We all lost that day.”
Carrie had a whole chamber devoted to prayer for the dead Scots and traitorous dragoons? Immediately she wondered if anything belonging to her brother would be in that room.
It was a mighty task to hide her horror, but Sarah managed it. “Thank ye kindly, Carrie. I’m sure we’d love to enjoy it later today.”
“Excellent. Now go on with ye. Cook is going to begin serving soon, and if ye miss out on the meal, it will be a while before supper.”
Carrie ushered them out of the scullery through the kitchen, where this time they dodged scraps of cabbage tossed their way and finally made it into the common room. The tiny windows barely let in any light, and the ceiling was low. The floors were made of dirt, strewn with straw, which was a shock to Sarah, given the only taverns she’d ever been in had either wood or slate flooring. What were they trying to hide beneath the straw? But she needn’t have wondered, for the stench in the commons quickly dispelled the delicious scents from the kitchen. It smelled like…
Dog excrement.
Sarah tried not to gag at the overpowering smell. She glanced up at Thane to see if he’d noticed, but he was busy scanning the patrons and available tables. Several dogs lounged by the hearth sleeping, but there was one who’d taken up the telltale curved back pose of disposing of his bowels.
“Dear God,” Thane muttered to her under his breath. “We’ll take our meal in a chamber. Hopefully, the private rooms are better.”
“Good idea.” She leaned closer to him as if that would somehow make her feel better.
A large, bald, older man slapped his hand on a table with a friend, shouting for the dog to cease his business, before addressing them. “Welcome, newcomers. I’m Balthazar.”
His beard looked similar to the fake one Thane had been sporting at Campbell castle, and if she had to guess, Sarah thought it probably smelled worse.
“Thank ye, sir. We’re waiting on a room your daughter is having prepared for us,” Thane said. “And if we could have our meals served there? Newlyweds.” He added a wink for emphasis, which got a round of cheers from those in residence and started the hounds to howling.
Sarah was not against dogs; she loved them dearly. Her own sweet Mildred had just passed the month before. But these hounds were unruly, and she guessed it had something to do with the tavern owner himself, who seemed something of a wild man.
“Come, come. I’ve got one already set up.” Balthazar ushered them through a series of chambers. “Will this do?”
But before they could reply, Carrie shouted, “Da, I’ve got another one prepared for the newlyweds.”
She took them to a door across from the one her father had suggested. Before opening 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,