Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
T he village Annabelle now stood in seemed to have been plucked from the pages of a historical novel. The very air carried the fragrance of history, a blend of woodsmoke, damp earth, and the sweet scent of heather that blanketed the nearby hills. Annabelle felt as if she had stepped into a living, breathing tapestry, where each stone and cobblestone street had a tale even more ancient than Fort Donald to tell.
As Annabelle continued to gaze upon this living relic of the past, her heart swelled with a profound sense of belonging. She knew that her journey through time had brought her to a place where she could uncover not only the secrets of the past but also the untold chapters of her own destiny. Turning her gaze, she met Jamie's compassionate gaze.
His eyes held a mixture of curiosity and concern as he inquired, "Is something amiss, lass?"
"No, Jamie, nothing’s wrong. It's just... everything is overwhelming. I never imagined I'd find myself in a place like this. It’s magical."
Jamie's lips curved into a smile as he gently squeezed her hand. "Aye, I understand. 'Tis a lot to take in. You're safe here, and you’ve got me by your side. I'll nae let anything harm you."
With a soft sigh, she leaned into Jamie's embrace, allowing herself to find to enjoy his strong arms. “Thank you,” she murmured, grateful to have him by her side.
The two of them followed the rest of their party into the inn and Jamie led Annabelle toward a man behind a counter. “Good evening,” Jamie said. “I am hoping you have rooms available.”
“Aye we’ve a few.” The man nodded. “I’m Sean Robertson, proprietor. Let me get my wife, she’ll see to the rooms. Do you need a meal?”
“Aye that would do us well.”
“Thank you, before you go, can you tell me if Brandon Campbell and his party stayed here?” Jamie asked.
“Aye that they did, he and his men as well as a young lass. Very high handed and demanding, they were. Drove business away from the tavern while they were here too,” Mr. Robertson replied.
“Was there anyone who paid them any mind?” Annabelle asked. “Anyone strangely interested in them?”
Mr. Robertson frowned and shook his head. “Nae, kept to themselves, ‘cept for orderin’ me and the missus about. We were all glad to see the backsides of them.”
As they spoke with the innkeeper, the room buzzed with the hushed conversations of other patrons, the clinking of tankards, and the lilting melodies of a bard strumming a lute in the corner. As Jamie thanked the innkeeper, the hearty aroma of stew and freshly baked bread wafted through the air and Annabelle’s stomach rumbled.
“Please tell me there is plenty of that delicious smelling stew for us,” she said looking at Mr. Robertson.
“Aye, lass, that there is. Find yourselves a table and we’ll get you fed while my missus sees to your rooms.”
“Thank you, Mr. Robertson,” Annabelle said with a smile.
Jamie and Annabelle found themselves seated at a worn yet sturdy wooden table in the heart of the inn. A fresh pitcher of water sat before them, glistening in the warm glow of candlelight.
As the others joined them, a young and pretty girl with rosy cheeks and a cascade of chestnut hair, made her way to their table. Her apron bore evidence of a long evening's work, yet her smile remained warm and inviting. As she approached, Jamie greeted her with a disarming grin. For a brief moment, Annabelle couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt at his feelings for her and her mind clouded with fleeting uncertainties.
With a charming lilt in his voice, Jamie inquired, "And what might your name be, lass?"
The young woman replied, "I'm Beitris, sir."
“Beitris, we’d all like a bowl of that delicious stew, some bread and ale, if you wouldnae mind?” Jamie gave her one of his charming smiles. He seemed almost flirtatious toward her.
“A course, sir.” Beitris nodded and scurried off.
Annabelle couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Jamie’s heart wasn’t as fully engaged with her as she’d previously thought. She hated to think of herself as a jealous woman, but she was fighting the green-eyed monster something fierce at the moment. She tried to bite back the jealousy but couldn’t help but ask him, “Why did you ask her name?”
Jamie looked at her and smiled. It was one that reached his eyes and damn near melted her heart. “I asked because tis the polite thing to do and because we want her to trust us. She may have seen or heard somethin’ when the Campbells were here that could lead us to who might have murdered them.”
Annabelle listened to his explanation, chastising herself inwardly for momentarily letting her romantic insecurities cloud her professional judgment. She nodded in understanding, realizing that, as a detective herself, she should have recognized the wisdom in Jamie's approach. “Good point,” she agreed.
Beitris returned, deftly balancing a laden tray. The aroma of the stew filled the air as she placed the dishes before them. The stew was a rich medley of tender meat, vegetables, and fragrant herbs, while the bread bore a crusty exterior and a soft, warm center. Beitris had also brought a selection of cheeses ranged from sharp cheddar to creamy brie, offering a delightful variety of flavors, and frothy tankards of ale.
“Thank you kindly, Beitris,” Jamie said, giving the girl a smile.
Annabelle decided to step in then. There was no need for him to be the one to do all the talking. “Beitris,” Annabelle injected, smiling at her, “I was wondering if you could help us.”
She turned to Annabelle; her eyes wide. “If’n I can, I will, what do you need, miss?”
“We’re inquiring about a group of people who stayed here not too long ago, from the Campbell Clan.”
Her face soured. “Oh, them.” She nodded. “What about them?”
Annabelle nearly laughed, but quickly sobered considering they were dead. “I understand they weren’t very pleasant to anyone here, but my question isn’t about them directly. I wondered if you noticed anyone paying them special attention?”
“Oh aye, there were some of your clan here as well. They kept an eye upon them, made sure they didn’t get out of hand.”
Annabelle and Jamie shared a glance and then looked around the table.
“Our clan?” Artair asked.
“Aye, Clan Donald? At least they wore the same tartan as you.” She paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Come to think of it, I donnae think I’ve ever seen them around here before, and they spoke funny, kind of like you,” she said, looking at Annabelle.
Annabelle froze and immediately thought maybe Edward had been brought back in time, but that was ridiculous. Why would Dub Sith bring him here when he knew she was trying to get away from him? Still she gave Jamie a startled look.
“Lass, do you mean they were English?” Jamie asked.
“Aye, they sounded more English than you, miss, are you not English?” the girl asked, a frown on her lips.
Annabelle’s expression cleared. “Oh, yes, I am. Um, but I come from a very small obscure town, and we apparently have our own um accent that is different from a good part of England.”
“Like the Welsh then.” She nodded.
A couple of the men at the table snickered and Annabelle frowned at them.
“Yes, something like that,” Annabelle agreed. She cleared her throat then asked, “So these men, they were English but dressed in Donald tartan?”
“Nae all of ‘em, jest a few. The others were Scotsmen.”
“How many of them were there?” Eamon asked.
Beitris frowned. “Cannae say exactly. They come at different times, have a tankard or two and go off on their merry way. More’n a handful o’ them, I would guess.”
“Have you seen them around here lately?” Artair asked.
“Aye, jest yesterday two o’ them came in.” Beitris nodded.
Annabelle grew excited hearing that. They were close to catching them if they were here yesterday. She glanced at Jamie, her hand going to his knee and squeezing it in her excitement. He gave her a subtle nod.
“Has anythin’ else odd been goin’ on in your town?” Jamie asked. “Since the Campbell’s visit I mean.”
“Oh aye, tis the strangest thing. Food from our storages have gone a miss. Nae jest here at the inn, but with others too. An’ our kitchen was ransacked as well.”
“Has anyone been injured?” Jamie asked, concern lacing his words.
“Nae, have nae heard of anyone sufferin’ any injuries.” She shook her head.
“That tis good to hear,” Jamie said with a smile, then pulled out a coin and handed it to her. “I appreciate you speakin’ with us, Beitris.”
“A course, can I get you anythin’ else?” she asked as she looked around the table.
“Nae, we’re fine, lass. Thank you again,” he replied.
Beitris bobbed a curtsey and headed back toward the kitchens as Annabelle watched her go. She turned back to Jamie said, “You are awfully charming to people.”
Jamie chuckled, his eyes warm as he looked at her. "Aye, lass, sometimes a friendly face and a wee bit o' charm can open doors that might otherwise stay shut."
Annabelle couldn’t fault his logic, but she didn’t like that his being charming with Beitris made her feel jealous and irrational. And it was irrational. She decided to let it go as she leaned in closer, her voice low. "It seems these bandits are using this village as a sort of base, don’t you think? They keep returning here, probably to steal food and supplies for their group. If we can figure out why they're targeting this place, we might get closer to finding Maeve and clearing your clan's name."
Jamie nodded in agreement, his eyes focused and determined. "Aye, you could be right, lass. We’ll start here in the village and see what we can discover.”
“Tis a good plan, Jamie,” Eamon agreed.
“We’ll start at first light,” Artair added.
Annabelle yawned. She was tired but wished they could go out and hunt them down right now. She understood why they were going to wait, but she really wished they didn’t have to.