Chapter Four
Athdara didn’t even know where the chair came from.
The moment she and Marina walked into the tavern, a chair came flying at Marina, who slammed into Athdara, sending her sailing.
She plowed into a man at a nearby table, almost toppling him, but he somehow managed to grab her and steady himself, keeping them both from crashing onto the floor.
She ended up sitting awkwardly, her left arm around his neck while she gripped the table with her right hand.
Suddenly, she was in his face, looking into the blackest eyes she’d ever seen.
Before she could speak, however, something heavy hit her in the back, and she grunted in pain as she plowed forward into the man.
This time, they both went over.
There was a massive fight going on behind them.
Athdara didn’t even know what happened to Marina, for the man she’d crashed into was lurching to his feet, taking her along with him.
She ended up on her feet also, and stumbled away from the fight alongside him.
It wasn’t as if they were going to the same place, but they were traveling in the same direction so they wouldn’t get hit again.
They didn’t stop until they were at the other end of the tavern. Only then did Athdara look at him.
“My deepest apologies, my lord,” she said. “Did I hurt you?”
The man was brushing spilled drink off his tunic. “You did not,” he said in a voice that sounded as if it rumbled up from his feet. “Are you injured?”
Athdara gingerly rotated her left shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the second hit. “I do not think so,” she said, but she noticed that he had drink spilled all over him. “I am very sorry for your drink, my lord. Would you permit me to replace it? I would be most happy to.”
Finished brushing at the stain on his chest, he looked at her, and Athdara was struck by just how truly handsome the man was.
His dark eyes were set within a square-jawed face, mostly bearded, but she could see deep dimples in his cheeks when he spoke.
His hair, long and dark, was tied at the back of his head.
He was positively enormous and well-muscled and didn’t look as if he belonged in a place like this.
There was something too pretty about him.
“That is not necessary,” he told her. “No harm truly done.”
“Except I spilled your drink,” she pointed out. “If you do not let me replace it, I fear I shall feel terribly anxious. I might even weep.”
She was trying to inject some humor because she was truly sorry at what had happened, but he looked at her strangely.
“Weep?” he repeated, puzzled. “Over this?”
She smiled weakly. “A jest, my lord,” she said. “Unless the real threat of it will work as intended.”
He stared at her, long and hard, before the corner of his mouth finally twitched. “If I told you again that it is not necessary, would you still feel anxious and weep?”
“Shall I demonstrate?”
He held up a hand, but the grin he was trying so hard to suppress broke through. “Nay,” he said. “I believe you. If it will make you feel better, then I will accept your tribute.”
Athdara smiled at him, something that looked like a coy and almost flirtatious gesture, before turning around and looking for the nearest table. “Here,” she said, pointing to an empty table against the wall. “If you will sit, I shall bring your drink personally. May I bring food to you as well?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “It is kind to ask, but the drink will suffice.”
She darted off, and he watched her. She was dressed quite strangely, in a tunic and hose and boots, yet she wore a long, belted robe over the top of it.
That wasn’t what fine women usually wore, and by the looks of her, he’d never seen finer.
In fact, that kind of beauty out in the wilds of Devon was quite shocking.
Even more shocking was that she was tall and, from what he’d been able to gather when she bashed into him, strong and solid. That was no fine, tender lady.
That was something quite different.
She was also filthy, as if she’d been rolling around in the dirt. Her long, dark hair was braided, tied at the end with a leather strip that looked as if it came off a saddle. Everything about her screamed high breeding, but she wore the clothes of a pauper.
The more he watched her, the more intrigued he became.
Finally, the woman moved through the crowd, two cups of that strong ale in hand, toward the table where Tay was watching her.
She had the grace of a cat, surefooted and fine.
As she came near, a man at a nearby table made a grab for her.
She was able to dart out of his way, but with her hands full, she was at a disadvantage.
When the man made another swipe for her, she lifted one of those long legs and kicked him right in the head.
Those who saw the kick burst into laughter as the man lay on the ground, unconscious. But the lady seemed untroubled as she continued, right to the table, and set the two cups down.
“There,” she said. “I hope this makes amends for my bad manners.”
Truth be told, Tay was already pretty full of the strong ale. That made him consider things he wouldn’t normally consider, like conversation with a woman he didn’t know.
He sat back in his chair, partially in the shadows, his eyes glittering in the darkness as he looked at her.
“Sit,” he finally rumbled. “I want to talk to you.”
She looked at him with surprise. “You do?” she said. “Why?”
“Why not?”
She didn’t have an answer for that. With a shrug, she sat down opposite him, and he pushed one of the cups toward her.
“It seems as if you’ve not had a pleasant experience since entering the tavern,” he said. “Mayhap you need a drink more than I do.”
Her gaze lingered on him a moment before, grinning, she picked up the cup and took a big swallow. It was very strong, and she made a face as it coursed down her throat.
“You would think that all the times I’ve had this drink, I would be used to the molten steel that pours down into my belly,” she said, wincing. “Unfortunately, I am still not used to it.”
“You have been here before?”
She nodded. “I have,” she said. “You?”
“A few.”
“Would it be too forward to ask your name?”
“Tay,” he said. “And you?”
“Athdara,” she said. “Tay is an interesting name. Where are your people from?”
He smiled faintly. “Tay is the name of a lake in Scotland,” he said. “Do you not hear my Scots accent?”
“A little,” she admitted. “You sound English.”
“Do not let my father hear you say that.”
“Is he the Scotsman?”
“He was,” he said. “He died two years ago. Where do you come from, Athdara?”
She took another drink of the ale. “I was born near Flanders,” she said. “Do I not sound like it?”
“A little,” he said, his smile growing. “You are a long way from home.”
“As are you.”
“Did you come with your family?”
She shook her head. “I have no family,” she said. “And you?”
“I have a mother and a younger brother,” he said. “They live in the north, where my father’s family is settled.”
“Do you see them often?”
“Not too often. My mother tends my brother, who was born a cripple.” He suddenly hesitated, realizing that the alcohol had made him quite chatty.
But the truth was that she was easy to talk to when he lowered his guard.
“I do not know why I told you that. I do not tell many people about my brother.”
“Why not?” she said, interested. “It is clear to me that you care for your mother and brother. That is a fine quality.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How can you tell that? I’ve not said so.”
She shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. “I can hear it in your voice,” she said. “Your tone is soft. It is right and good that we love our family. I loved mine.”
“You said you had none.”
“They were murdered.”
The conversation had taken an unexpected turn at that moment, and Tay could see the anguish in her face. She’d barely changed expression, but something in her eyes dulled. There was pain there.
Suddenly, the light flirtation grew serious.
“I am sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “You do not have to speak on them. I will not ask.”
The dull anguish in her eyes lifted a little as she forced a smile. “That is kind of you,” she said. “Mayhap it would be better to speak of other things. Do you travel much, Tay?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I used to, but I grew weary of it.”
“Then you live in Devon?”
“I do.”
“In Exebridge?”
“Nearby.”
“Are you a farmer, then?”
He laughed, revealing big teeth with slightly prominent canines. “God no,” he said. “You could say that I am a… teacher.”
Her face lit up. “How admirable,” she said. “A tutor? You must be very educated.”
“Educated enough.”
“What is your favorite thing to teach?”
He looked at her for a moment, wondering how much to tell her.
Blackchurch wasn’t something that was really spoken of, and trainers certainly never bragged that they were employed by the guild.
It was such a mysterious place that it was simply an unspoken understanding that no one walked about telling people they were part of it.
Tay had long since learned how to skirt that subject.
Though he wished he could tell her, because he rather liked the way she looked at him.
He could talk to her all night, given the chance.
“My lady, I have decided something,” he said.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I am hungry,” he said. “Will you share a meal with me?”
Athdara nodded eagerly. Tay stood up and motioned for her to follow. She did, right behind him, and halfway through the tavern, he reached back and grasped her hand.
Athdara let him.