“It’s ye,” she said, eyeing Evander. “Back again, eh?”
To Skye’s horror, jealousy prickled through her. Who was this woman? Had Evander taken her as a lover?
He has a right to do so,retorted an annoyingly sensible voice at the back of her head, which she promptly ignored.
It’s nae that I am jealous. I simply want to ken,she told herself, then pushed forward.
“Ye come here often, then?” she heard herself say, her voice thin and demanding.
The innkeeper’s pale eyebrows shot up toward her hairline.
“He and his men stop here occasionally,” she responded, before Evander could speak. “I ken Laird Bryden by sight, nothing more. Daenae fret, lassie.”
Skye’s face burned.
Am I that obvious?
Apparently so.
Evander chuckled at her, shaking his head. “This is Janie, lass. Her parents own and run the inn. Janie, this is me wife.”
Janie straightened a little, eyeing Skye with more interest. “It’s nae every day that we have a proper lady here,” she commented. “Do ye need a room? I’ll get ye the best one.”
“T-Thank ye,” Skye stammered, blinking, not sure what to do with Janie’s sudden change of tone. “And… And a bath, perhaps?”
Janie nodded. “Of course. Ye will eat while ye wait, then?”
“Oh, aye. We’re fair starved,” Evander snorted. “Is there a private room?”
“Aye, there is. Follow me.”
