As she ate her portion of the fare, she scanned their tiny room. Aside from the hearth, a bed with extra blankets folded atop stood in the corner, and nearby sat a small table holding a pitcher of water.
However sparse the furnishings, Cailin’s presence seemed to fill the chamber, a potent reminder of her predicament. “’Tis unseemly for us to sharethis chamber.”
“If another room were available, I would agree.” He took a sip of ale, grimaced. “God’s blade, they must have scraped the dredges of the barrel for this rot. Still, we were fortunate that I had already paid for a room. Given the steady flow of travelers seeking shelter since our arrival, by now even the stable is filled.”
Indeed. With the throng of people below, they were lucky to have acquired ameal and drink.
He refilled his goblet. “Sleep in the bed. I will make a pallet beside the hearth.”
And once he was asleep, she would leave, though…Another wave of guilt swept Elspet as she glanced toward the finely crafted broadsword hanging near the door and damned the action she must take. If only he’d had the coin to loan her, she wouldn’t need to resort to thievery.
While he continued to eat, she fingered the sack of powdered valerian root hidden deep in her gown pocket. A healthy dose would make him sleep, and the bitter taste of the brew wouldmask the herb.
Though she regretted taking his weapon, except for any personal attachment to the broadsword, for a powerful man of wealth, procuring another would be naught but an inconvenience. More important, on the morrow she’d meet with Wautier Brecnagh, a merchant known for purchasingstolen goods.
Her heart stumbled whenever she thought of Blar locked away in that gruesome dungeon, and prayed the merchant would give her enough to pay the guard to save Blar’s life. Beneath half-lowered lashes, she studied Cailin. At least once she departed, she’d never see this handsome warrior again. Given the stakes, neither could she afford to care what he would think of her.
Elspet rubbed her arms. “’Tis cold.”
Eyes dark with concern swept over her. “Exhausted and injured, you might be coming down with a chill.” He crossedto the hearth.
With his back to her, on a trembling breath, she withdrew the valerian root. After a quick glance to ensure he hadn’t turned, she sifted a liberal amount into his ale, stirred.
Logs clunked in the hearth, and her fingers jerked. A swath of powder spilled on the table. Nay! She swept away the residue, secured the sack, and then stowed the herb.
Sparks swirled within the churn of smoke as he laid several smaller pieces of wood into the flames. Brushing the dirt from his hands, he stood. “That should keep us warm for the night.” He walked over, settled in the chair, and lifted his mug. Cailin’sbrow furrowed.
Her heart pounded. God in heaven, had she missed some of the powder? “Do you have a large family?” she blurted out, desperate todistract him.
Weary blue eyes shifted to her. “If I reply, will you be answering my questions about yourself as well?”
Tension eased within her. He suspectednaught. “Nay.”
With a grunt, he lifted his cup in a mock toast, downed the brew, then hissed, shoved aside the mug. “’tis dreadful, but it wets the throat.”
She forced a smile. “As you said, we were fortunate that any food or drink remained.”
“Nay doubt until the storm arrived, they had planned on dumping this foul brew.” He shoved aside the goblet, then stood.“Go to sleep.”
“I thank you.” Mindful of her throbbing ankle, Elspet limped to the bed, then slipped beneath the covers. Feigning sleep, she watched for signs of the herbtaking effect.
At the hearth, he made a pallet. Instead of lying down, he knelt and then made the sign of the cross.
Soft whispers of the Lord’s Prayer reached her, each word thick with grief, each verse as if dredged from his soul. Once Cailin finished,he began again.
Mesmerized by the intensity, riveted by the passion, she couldn’t look away. What had happened to cause him such torment? A part of her tried to ignore the anguish in his voice, but another longed to offer him succor.
Elspet’s heart ached. His faith was a potent reminder of how, days before, her belief in Him had been just as strong. But after what she’d witnessed yesterday, she could no longer fathom believing in a God who would allow people to endure such horror.
After whispering several more Paternosters, he again made the sign of the cross andthen sat back.
On a yawn, the warrior glanced toward her.
Through her lashes, she watched him.
For a long moment, he studied her.
And why wouldn’t he be curious? She’d revealed naught about her past, and during their brief discussion of her travels, she’d remained vague. Neither had she pressed him for information.
