Page 16 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

CHAPTER NINE

Night was falling, and Alistair had no interest in sleeping out-of-doors. He did so when duty demanded, but it was far from comfortable. Besides, he doubted Niamh had ever spent a single night asleep without a roof over her head. There was no sense in giving her more to rage at him about.

Added to that, Scottish autumn weather was far from predictable. They’d be in dire straits if a storm blew in during the night. It would get even worse if the lass got it into her head to be difficult or make another escape attempt after dark.

They rode into a small town with less than half a candle-mark to dusk, and Alistair made straight for the tavern. Normally, he would have gone inside, but with Niamh still glaring daggers at him at every opportunity, he thought it best to try another tactic. He raised his voice. “Och, stable boy. Are ye there?”

A small lad, eight to ten winters if he was any judge, came stumbling from the inn stables. “Aye me laird?”

“Me lady and I are seeking lodgings. Dae ye ken if the innkeeper has any rooms tae let? Or anyone in town, mayhap?”

The boy trotted off into the inn, only to return a few minutes later with a downcast expression. “There’s nay rooms available, laird. The inn is full with all the travelers fer the Autumn Festival.”

Alistair stifled a curse. Of course. Many clansmen from the more remote parts of the Highlands and the Lowlands alike would have gone to the festival to enjoy a rare treat, engage in the ceremonies to bless the harvest, and trade wares. “What o’ others in town?”

“I dinnae ken fer certain, me laird, but most give any hearth room they might have tae kinfolk durin’ festival.” The boy shuffled. “There’s another inn on the other side o’ the township, me laird, and mayhap ye’ll have better luck there.” He ducked his head.

Alistair grimaced. He’d expected that answer but hoped for a more favorable one. He gave the boy a copper coin, then set the horses walking. Niamh grumbled. “I hope yer nae expectin’ me tae sleep in the woods taenight. I’m scarce prepared fer such a trial.”

“I wouldnae dream o’ it, lass. We’ll keep riding until we find a place with a room fer the evening.”

As expected, she immediately protested. “Ye cannae expect me tae ride all night, either.”

“We’ll ride so long as we have tae. Although, worse comes tae worse, I suppose we can ask a farmer tae let us rest in his stables for the night.”

The inn at the other side of the village was full as well. Alistair groaned, and succumbed to being on the road for another candle-mark at least.

The next two villages were also full of visitors, with no room to stay. The moon was rising in the sky by the time they reached the next one. Alistair was weary, sore, and hungry. By the time he drew even with the door to the seventh tavern he’d tried, he was tired enough that he would almost have slept beneath a Fairie Mound, or on the bare ground, had that been an option. Even Niamh had fallen silent, seemingly worn out by the events of the day.

“Oi! Innkeeper!” Alistair waited impatiently until the man appeared. “Have ye any rooms tae let? Me lady and I need lodgings.”

The innkeeper looked as weary as he felt, but the gleam in his eyes was sharp and canny when he replied. “I’ve one remaining, me laird. A silver fer the night includes stablin’ fer yer beasts, a guard on yer belongings, and a meal, with a flagon o’ mead, beer or wine.”

Under normal circumstances, Alistair might have haggled. As it was, he was far too weary. “A silver then, and woe betide ye and the guard if there’s aught missing from me packs when dawn comes.”

“I stake me reputation on the honesty o’ me guards, laird. Ye’ll find naught tae complain about, and naught missing in the morn.” There was a faint edge of irritation in the innkeeper’s voice, despite his courteous manner.

Alistair sighed. “I believe ye. ‘Tis only that I’m wearied from a day on the road.” He passed the man a silver. “Me lady and I will be in shortly. Have the room ready fer us and dinner within the candle-mark, if ye will.”

“At once, me laird.” The man bowed and pointed him toward the stables. Alistair gave a soft sigh of relief and guided the horses in that direction.

Niamh was quiet and seemingly exhausted as he helped her dismount and gathered the necessary saddle bags from the luggage. Alistair didn’t trust the silence.

He was right to be wary. Niamh took one look at the room the innkeeper directed them to and exploded into rage. “Ye cannae be serious! There’s only one bed!”

“Aye. But ‘tis this or sleep on the ground, lass.”

“Dinnae call me lass like a child or a relative! I’ve never given ye permission tae call me aught but me name!”

Alistair snorted, too weary for games. “I’ll nae call ye Lady Cameron, and ye protest against me usin’ yer given name o’ Niamh as bein’ too familiar, so yer choices are lass or wench. Ye can have yer pick.”

She struck at him. “Ye’re impertinent! And I willnae stay in this room with ye!”

“Ye will, fer there’s nay other choice. I didnae spend a silver fer ye tae waste it by having both o’ us sleeping in the stables.”

“I dinnae wish tae sleep near ye at all!” Her eyes were snapping with renewed fire. “Ye have nay right tae demand a place in me bed!”

“As there’s naught but one bed, there’s little enough choice, unless one o’ us is sleeping on the floor.” Alistair retorted.