Her grip tightened. “I just do.”
He hated her answer at once. It was too quick and too practiced. She probably had to answer it many times because it carried a history she was hiding with both hands.
Nobody would sneak out of a guarded castle before dawn for a simple headache. Violet had slipped past guards, crossed a road alone, bought herbs like a fugitive, and lied badly in a public market.
Connor reached for the bundle, but she immediately pulled it back. “I need it.”
“I didnae say ye wouldnae have it.”
After a breath, she let him take it. Her fingers shook when they released the stems.
Connor placed the bundle on the table, where she could see it and where she could no longer hide it beneath her dress. Then he went to the door and opened it.
The tavern keeper stood outside with his wife behind him. One of Connor’s men waited further down the narrow hall, alert and silent.
“Cold water,” Connor ordered. “Enough for a bath and some clean linens as well. Then make some tea made with this.” He said and pointed to the bundle.
The keeper’s eyes flicked past Connor toward Violet.
Connor lowered his voice. “Look at me when I give orders.”
The man’s gaze snapped back. “Aye, me Laird.”
“Nay one speaks of me wife’s condition. Nay one asks after her.”
“Aye.”
Connor took coins from his purse and placed them in the man’s palm. “Privacy is part of what I am paying for.”
The tavern keeper closed his hand around the money. “Of course, me Laird.”
“And bread. Broth if ye have it.”
Behind him, Violet muttered, “I didnae ask for broth.”
Connor did not turn. “Then it will be a surprise.”
The keeper’s wife stepped forward. She was older than her husband, with flour on one sleeve and concern she did not hide quickly enough. “I will bring the linens meself, me Laird.”
Connor looked at her for a moment. Her concern was useful. Her curiosity was also manageable. He could deal with all of this for now.
“Bring them,” he said. “Say nothing.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
He pointed to his man. “I also need ye to keep guard.”
The man bowed his head. “Aye.”
Connor shut the door again.
Violet had set one hand on the table near the rest of the angelica. She did not touch it. Her fingers hovered close, ready to snatch it back if he threatened to take it from her.
He moved to the fireplace, checked the fire, then dragged the second chair nearer without sitting. “Now, what happened?”
Violet shrugged. “Nothing. ‘Tis just the heat in the market.”
“It is barely hot outside.”
