“Tonight we shall stay at an inn where I doubt anyone chasing us would search,” he said. “Tomorrow I will make arrangements for your stay until you sail.”
Marie nodded, half-listening, and walked in silence. She would have this night on which to build memories to cherish for a lifetime. After she’d told him of her promise to wed the duke, she prayed that one day Colyne would find forgiveness toward her for her deception.
By the time Colyne led Alesia to the outskirts of Glasgow, darkness had claimed the sky. In the shadows of the forest, he helped her don a servant’s robe he’d procured from a crofter’s hut they’d passed.
“We will nae attract attention dressed in this garb.” He drew another robe over his own head, wishing they were already inside the safety of the inn. After securing the tie, he led her toward the city. “Keep near my side.”
Fear flickered on her face, but she took his hand. “I will.”
They moved deeper into Glasgow. Horses drawing rickety wagons stumbled over the rut-battered streets. Men dressed in the same nondescript servants’ garb quietly passed.
“ ’Tis not as I expected,” Alesia said, a tremor in her voice.
“What?”
She nodded toward the decaying buildings, the squalor as far as the eye could see. “I had expected to find well-kept homes or businesses.”
“In a better part of the city, aye, you would.”
Unease swept her. “A better part?”
Colyne led her through the ill-tended streets cluttered with debris. “After weighing the risks, I decided traveling through this shabby part of town would be for the best. In the company of a noblewoman, the men searching for us would believe I would choose a safer route.”
“I see.”
Colyne gently squeezed her hand. “I will keep you safe.”
“I know.”
Humbled by her belief in him, he continued on. At the next corner, he stole a glance behind them. “This way.” Confident they were nae being followed, he guided her into a darkened alley.
The stench hit first. A putrid mix of decaying food, stale mead, and a hint of something morbid. He didna pause to decipher the latter. He’d slipped through this part of the city too many times to linger. Desperation governed those who lived in this squalid area, thieves who killed without hesitation for something as simple as a loaf of bread.
A curse, then the sound of the slam of fists exploded nearby.
Alesia’s fingers tightened on his.
“Keep moving.” He increased their pace. After maneuvering through the dismal streets, a weathered stone building pleading neglect came into view. He led her into the shadow near the front door. “Wait here.”
Her breaths came in short, rapid bursts as she scanned the darkened alleys around them. “But—”
“Go along with whatever I say.”
She caught his sleeve. “What are you going to do?”
“If all goes well, secure us a room.”
A scattering of people shuffled past, their varying degrees of inebriation evident by their boisterous tones. None appeared to notice them. Satisfied they’d drawn nay attention, Colyne walked up and knocked on the door.
Footsteps sounded on the other side, and then the heavy panel swung open with a rusty squeak. The aroma of cooking meat filled the air as yellowed candlelight illuminated a plump man sporting a scar stretching from his ear to his throat.
Iohne reminded Colyne of a cross between a brigand and the homeless roaming the streets. But he’d dealt with the innkeeper before. The Scot believed him to be the servant of an English lord who had sent Colyne to buy stolen goods from reavers, a cover that had served him well in the past and would do so now. “I shall be needing a room,” he said, speaking the King’s English, as this man would expect.
Iohne scowled. “I have none to offer ye.”
Familiar with his ploy, Colyne held out several coins.
The man spied the flash of silver and greed lit his face. He wiped his arm across his mouth, slick with grease. “I might be having a room, but it will cost ye an extra pence.”
