Her eyes widened before she playfully slapped his arm. “Nae like that,” she scolded, though laughter trembled in her tone.
He gave her an exaggerated sigh. “Ye wound me, lass.”
She shook her head. “I meant food.”
“Fine then,” he muttered, offering her his arm. “I suppose we can feed that sort of hunger first.”
He led her through the bustling square toward the tavern, its windows glowing warm. Laughter and the smell of roasted meat drifted out as they approached. Ian pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, Arianna at his side.
The tavern buzzed with voices and clinking tankards, but as eyes fell upon Ian, the noise faltered. One by one, men stood and bowed their heads in respect. Ian gave a short nod in acknowledgment, neither encouraging nor dismissing the gesture.
Arianna glanced up at him. “They respect ye,” she murmured quietly.
“They fear me,” he corrected evenly, guiding her further in.
The tavern owner, Mr. Gowan, hurried forward, wiping his hands on his apron. “Laird,” he said with a deep bow. “Me lady. ’Tis an honor.”
“Evenin’, Gowan,” Ian replied. “We’ll nae trouble ye long.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Gowan said quickly. “Ye’ll have the best table.” He shooed two young lads aside and personally cleared a sturdy oak table near the hearth, where the fire crackled bright and warm.
Arianna smiled politely. “Ye’re too kind, Mr. Gowan.”
“For the laird and his lady?” Gowan beamed. “Only the finest we have.”
Ian gestured for Arianna to sit before taking his own seat. “Bring what’s fresh,” he told the tavern keeper. “And ale.”
“At once,” Gowan said, bowing again. “If there’s aught else ye require, ye need only say it.”
“That will do,” Ian answered, his tone firm but not unkind.
Soon tankards of dark ale were set before them, along with thick slices of oat bread still warm from the hearth. A trencher of roasted mutton followed, glistening with herbs, alongsidebuttered neeps and carrots. There was a small wheel of sharp cheese and a steaming bowl of barley broth rich with leeks and bits of salt pork.
Arianna inhaled deeply. “It smells heavenly,” she said.
Ian lifted his tankard. “To good food and better company.”
She clinked her cup lightly against his. “To laughter,” she added.
They began to eat, and for a time, only the crackle of the fire and low tavern chatter filled the space between them. Arianna tore a piece of bread and dipped it into her broth.
“I liked the village girl best,” she said. “She was bold.”
Ian chewed thoughtfully. “Aye. She kent her own mind.”
“She would never have waited for a knight to save her,” Arianna added.
He gave her a sideways glance. “Nor would ye.”
She laughed softly. “Do ye truly think so?”
“I ken so,” he replied, taking a swallow of ale.
She studied him for a moment. “And what was yer favorite part?”
He leaned back in his chair. “When the dragon tripped over its own tail.”
She blinked, then burst into laughter. “Ye’re cruel.”
