Chapter Twenty-Two
The Gunn raised his hand just as rain began to fall. “We will stop here for the night.”
Worn out from the trip, Megan looked up in the semi-darkness and, after wiping the water from her eyes, she could make out an inn.
It was not large, but it looked welcoming with the sight of several windows, lights from candles and most likely a fireplace, bringing a smile to her face.
She shivered, anxious to get out of the rain and her wet clothes.
Hopefully she would have her own room and be able to lay her things in front of a fire.
One of the men came over and dragged her off her horse. Without notice, she lost her balance and fell into a mud puddle.
“See here, Micah, that is my future wife ye are tossing around like a bag of flour. Help her up.” The Gunn gave his order and before she was barely on her feet, the man had disappeared inside.
“I will need a bedchamber for me and my wife.” Gunn pounded the counter in the inn.
Megan stepped right up to him. “I am no’ this mon’s wife, and will ne’er be. I demand my own room.”
The Gunn growled and raised his hand to strike her, when Anthony stopped him. “We need her looking uninjured when we appear before the king. What ye do after that is yer business.”
The innkeeper looked back and forth between them just as a well-rounded woman with a cheerful look about her, who must have been his wife, walked up to them. “The young lady will have her own chamber, Marcus.” She nodded to the man behind the counter.
Weariness, fright, and missing her husband brought Megan to tears. The woman standing next to the innkeeper walked around the counter and put her arm around her. “Come with me, lass. I’ll get ye a nice room and a hot meal.”
“I object!” The Gunn said.
The woman just ignored him and ushered Megan upstairs to one of the chambers.
She was shivering and feeling absolutely miserable.
She missed Gregory so much it only made her cry harder.
If he was here, he would peel her wet clothes off her cold body, dry her in a cloth, then wrap her in a blanket, and place her on his lap as they sat in front of the brazier.
She would lay her head on his warm chest and everything would be right with her world.
Thinking that her world might never be right again, she cried harder.
“I doona ken what is wrong with ye lass, but I doona believe for one minute that the man downstairs is yer husband.”
Megan wiped her nose on her wet sleeve and shook her head. “Nay. My husband is Gregory Mackenzie. I love him so much and these men downstairs are going to the king in Edinburgh to have my marriage annulled. I ken Gregory is coming after me, but I’m afraid he will arrive too late.”
The woman tsked and shook her head. “I canno’ get involved with my customers’ troubles, or we would lose our business. However, if ye wish to scratch out a note for yer husband, I will be happy to pass it along to him should he stop here.”
Megan’s shoulders slumped. “I canno’ write.”
“’Tis no’ a problem. My husband can write. He had to learn to be able to make sure we were no’ being cheated.” She stopped to grin. “Now let me help ye out of those wet clothes. I’ll bring ye a cloth to dry yerself and a nightshift my daughter left behind when she married her husband.”
“Thank ye so much. Ye are so kind.”
The woman patted her on the arm and left the room, which Megan figured was to get the drying cloth and nightshift. She started to peel her clothes off, but had problems with unfastening the bodice, so she stood waiting for the innkeeper’s wife. She didn’t want to sit anywhere and wet the furniture.
She felt heartened by the innkeeper’s wife’s help. She really should ask the woman her name. She was so cheerful and friendly.
The chances of Gregory stopping at the inn might not be great, but since this was the only inn they’d past since they left Mackenzie, he might guess that they stopped here for no other reason than to have a soft bed to lie on.
They had avoided all the villages on their journey because Anthony didn’t want to waste time—mostly, she was sure, because he knew Gregory was on their trail.
Her husband was an excellent tracker and in the short time she’d been at the Mackenzie keep she had heard stories about his unlimited ability to search out brigands and other miscreants.
He would come for her.
A soft knock at the door caught her attention before it opened. “Here we are, dear.” The rosy-cheeked woman held garments in her arms.
“May I please ken yer name? I am Megan Mackenzie, wife of Gregory Mackenzie.”
“Mrs. Anna Bruce, dear. Mr. Marcus Bruce is my husband.” She held out her arms. “I have some things here for ye.” She laid them on the bed and turned to her. “If ye turn around, I will help ye get undressed. I wish I could offer ye a hot bath, but I doona have anyone to carry up the water.”
“That is fine, Mrs. Bruce. Just getting out of these wet clothes and into something dry will help.” She turned so the woman could help her.
One she had removed her clothes and dried herself with a piece of linen, and slid the nightshift over her, she felt many times better.
“I will take yer things and put them by the fireplace downstairs so they can dry.” She pointed to the small brazier in the room. “I will have my grandson, who lives here with us, fill that with some peat to get ye warmed up.”
“Thank ye so much.”
Once the woman left, carrying her wet garments, Megan climbed onto the bed and pulled the bedcovers up over her. She’d been shivering since she entered the inn, and for the first time she felt a bit of warmth.
Now that her brain was not frozen, she turned her attention to what The Gunn had said downstairs.
Trying to pass her off as his wife! If only she could talk Mrs. Bruce into letting her stay here, but the woman was right.
She could not interfere with her guests or they would lose a lot of business if word spread.
Loud voices and laughter and what sounded like someone falling came from the room next door. At the same time there was a knock on her door. Afraid it was Anthony or Gunn, she walked softly across the floor and leaned up against the door. “Who is there?”
“My lady, I am the innkeeper’s son and I bring ye a tray for yer dinner.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the door and he handed her the tray. She thanked him and said, “There is quite a bit of noise in the room next to me.”
He nodded. “Aye, two of the men who arrived with ye are in there for the night. ’Tis sorry I am if they are disturbing ye.”
“Nay. I will just lock the door.”
Since they had all arrived together, the lad looked a tad confused but shrugged and bid her good night.
She finished the wonderful bowl of mutton stew, along with freshly baked bread and the cup of ale that had accompanied the meal.
More tired than ever, she crawled into bed and fell instantly asleep.
A loud crash from the room next to her woke her out of a sound sleep.
Without thought, she reached out for Gregory and felt only a cold empty space.
Immediately, she remembered where she was.
Her fear and sadness were slowly turning to anger.
How dare Robert take her from her home and drag her off to see the king and attempt to have her marriage annulled.
Loud voices had her stepping out of bed. The fire in the brazier was low, and it was cold in the room. But that didn’t stop her from placing her ear against the wall.
’Twas Anthony and The Gunn arguing. And from their voices it sounded as though they had quite a bit to drink.
She raced back to the bed and grabbed the covers, covered herself and returned to the wall.
“I still doona understand why ye get half the dowry when yer getting Megan. She’s a comely lass, and I’m sure after a few smacks she’ll settle down and ye’ll have a good wife.” She sucked in a breath at the sound of Anthony’s voice.
“Shut ye mouth, Sinclair. I think the king would be interested to ken ye had Robert killed in that small skirmish just so ye could claim Megan’s dowry as her husband and laird.”
That answered a question she’d had for a while: what was in it for Robert’s uncle to be so insistent she marry The Gunn. Then as the words sunk into her brain, her stomach churned. Her husband’s death had been planned? She sucked in a deep breath and covered her mouth. He’d been murdered!
Too sickened to continue listening, she returned to her bed. She’d always known Anthony was a greedy, horrible man. From the little she’d heard of the muffled conversation, somehow The Gunn found out what Anthony had done and the price of his silence was her as a wife and half her dowry.
Amid tears, she offered more prayers for Robert’s soul. And God forgive her, she cursed Anthony’s soul.