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Spying the welcoming lights of an inn, Felix exhaled a relieved breath. He could use a drink after the day he had endured, and village inns always served the finest stews.
Indeed, settled at a seat by the window with his horse resting in the stables, the inn was rather too warm and welcoming for an exhausted Laird. He had devoured two bowls of stew and washed them down with flagon after flagon of earthy, refreshing ale, enjoying the sounds of other people’s chatter. He was enjoying it so much, in fact, that he neither realized how much time had passed nor how many flagons he had imbibed.
In that relaxed and drunken state, his thoughts naturally turned to Edwina.I should take her somewhere for a few weeks after our weddin’. We could ride to the north of Scotland, perhaps, stoppin’ at inns like this one.Closing his eyes, he dreamed of the countless rooms where they might lie together, entangled and out of breath. He could only imagine what her exquisite figure would look like, with all of her garments stripped away, but imagination would have to suffice for a while.
“Will she want me touch her?” he murmured, not entirely certain if he had spoken aloud or not.
“Anyone sittin’ here?” A man stood beside the table, waiting for a reply.
Felix squinted at the fellow: his eyes blurry with drink. “Hmm? Och, nay. Rest yerself, Lad.”
The man sat down opposite and summoned the barmaid for some stew and ale. As he got himself settled, removing his cloak and placing a large bag on the bench, Felix observed him with curiosity. There was something familiar about the man, but Felix could not place him.
He’s nae one of the brigands, is he?Felix closed one eye to concentrate his sight and determined that it was not. Perhaps, he just had one of those rough, common faces. And judging by the way the man’s garments hung off him, he was overdue the stew that he had ordered.
“Have ye traveled far?” the man asked, stretching out his arms.
Felix smiled drunkenly. “Nae too far, nay. Castle Moore to Castle McMorrow and most of the way back.”
“Och, ye’re lucky.” The man hid a yawn. “I cannae remember how long I’ve been on the road. Keep waitin’ for it to end, ye ken?”
Felix nodded, though he did not know. He rarely had any reason to go beyond his borders, and when he did, he did not go much further than the neighboring territories.
“Are ye from Castle Moore?” The man sipped his ale the moment it arrived on the table and ordered another.
Felix snorted. “Aye and nay. It depends who ye ask and what mood I’m in,” he slurred, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m the Laird of Castle Moore, but it isnae really mine. I should’ve been Laird of another place, but that’s gone now.”
“Laird Moore, eh?” The man gave a low whistle. “I hope ye daenae mind bein’ in such modest company?”
Felix shook his head, though it made him dizzy. “I adore all company, as it turns out, and I owe it all to my wife.” He paused, frowning. “Well, she’s nae my wife yet, but she will be in… I forget how many days. Soon.”
“Congratulations to ye.” The man raised his flagon of ale. Felix clinked it with the bottle of fortified wine that had come back around. “Are ye to be wed at Castle Moore, or are ye marryin’ at her residence? I daenae profess to ken much about Lairds and Ladies, but I assume ye’re nae allowed to just marry any lass ye fancy.”
“That’s the most amusin’ part,” Felix murmured. “I wasnae thinkin’ of marriage at all, then I touched her ankle at a Masquerade, and next thing ye ken, I’m betrothed and set to wed in a couple of days. Four days,” he remembered. “Aye, four days.”
The man raised his flagon again. “Cheers to the strangest tale I’ve heard in a while. Honestly, I dinnae think they still demanded marriage for a fleetin’ touch of the ankle. Ye’d think our fine country would’ve moved beyond that by now.”
“Perhaps it has, but nae in my corner of Scotland. Nae that I really mind. My wife is a bonny lass. I just daenae ken if she’d be better off with someone else, considerin’ the way we met. I wasnae exactly her choice, if ye ken what I mean?” Felix grinned, despite it not being the least bit amusing. He had imbibed too much, and though he knew it, he was in no mood to stop just yet.
The man raised his flagon again. “To happy marriages, however they might come to us.” They drank and he raised again. “To bonny lasses.” They drank and clinked as he toasted to being worthy, beautiful wives, fate intervening, and a great deal more. After the first few, Felix no longer knew what was being said; he just kept clinking and drinking and cheering, until the inn spun around him, and the contented chatter of other people became a faraway drone in his ears.
Before he knew it, he was out cold on the floor, with fortified wine glugging around him like blood. In the lingering haze before oblivion, he thought he heard someone call his name.
Edwina… Edwina, ye came.He smiled as he faded into drunken slumber, for they would begin their honeymoon in his dreams.
CHAPTER14
Wakingin an unfamiliar room above the inn, Felix had never felt so unwell in all of his seven-and-twenty years. Just trying to sit up made him feel as if he were on a ship in rough seas, while someone drove a spear through his skull.
How much did I drink… and how did I get up here?The memory was as stale as his breath, crumbling further with each attempt to remember.
“What time is it?” He squinted at the window and found that it was still dark outside. It was no wonder he felt awful, for he must have only been asleep for a few hours.
Gathering what remained of his dignity, he headed out of the room, along a creaky landing, and down to the main body of the inn. To his confusion, there was no one there. No torches or candles burned, and the stools and benches were all upturned on the tables.
It must be early mornin’. Nae dawn but nae true night either.Dreading the ride to come but determined to make it back to Castle Moore and Edwina before the sun rose, he slipped out into the dark to fetch his horse.
Before long, he was back upon the road, riding as fast as he dared with his stomach churning and his head pounding. For he could remember one thing about his exploits at the inn; he had spoken of Edwina, and that conversation had made something clear—she would only be better off with another man if he did not make himself a better man for her. Thinking of kissing her again, he knew which path he had to take.
