“Are ye hungry?” Ruaridh asked suddenly, startling her.
She wasn’t necessarily hungry, but now that he had mentioned it, she had wanted to try haggis for the longest time.
“Not really,” she answered. “But I would like to try haggis if possible.”
He nodded. “We should go to theWeeping Willowtavern,” he suggested and led her there.
Violet didn’t know whether to be suspicious of a tavern known as theWeeping Willow, but she followed him nonetheless.
The tavern was surprising. That was the best way to describe the quaint building. It was a two-story establishment painted in a lovely blue, with yellow shutters. Inside was no less surprising, with tables occupied by a boisterous crowd.
At the center of the chaos stood a lovely middle-aged woman holding a large mug from which she drank heartily, to the delight of her patrons. When she finished, they cheered, then she placed the empty mug on the tray of a passing maid and turned around.
“Oh, goodness me!” she exclaimed, rushing over to them. “Me Laird, what brings ye to these fine parts today, and who might this lovely lass be?”
“This is Miss Violet Wilkinson,” Ruaridh answered. “We are to be wed soon.”
Violet was surprised he had answered honestly.
“Truly?” the woman asked, beaming. “That is wonderful news. ‘Tis about time, me Laird.”
Violet smiled. She could feel the tips of his ears redden.
“Might we have a table then, Mrs. Walter?” Ruaridh asked.
“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Walter answered. “Sarah, come show the Laird and his betrothed to the finest table in the room.”
“Aye, ma’am,” a smallish, pretty girl answered, running up to them. “Right this way, me Laird, miss.”
Violet followed behind them, eagerly looking over the tables.
“And what would ye like to have?” Sarah asked once they were seated.
“I’ll take the mutton stew,” Ruaridh answered.
“And ye, miss?”
“Haggis,” Violet answered.
The girl nodded and then scurried away.
Ruaridh raised an eyebrow, and Violet shrugged. “I haven’t had it before, and Grannie Ava suggested I try it,” she explained.
“Alright.”
Their food came quickly, and she eyed the serving with a side of steaming mashed potatoes. Her first bite made her close her eyes at the flavor and texture.
“This is amazing!” she exclaimed.
Ruaridh grunted and began eating his food.
She realized vaguely that he had been waiting for her to eat so he could start. She smiled and continued eating until her plate was empty, then washed down her food with a glass of sweet mead.
Though full, she looked around, eyeing the delicacies on the tables. It was a good meal, but she craved something sweet, and upon spotting a pie on a distant table, she knew what she wanted to get. With the added bonus of torturing Ruaridh.
“I see a blueberry pie,” she declared. “Can we get some as well?”
Ruaridh eyed the pie in question and turned away with an almost rueful look. “Ye may get some for yerself, but I daenae want any,” he answered, though his tone was not very convincing.
