Chapter Nine
There it was.
The Butcher’s.
Estevan could see the gambling den in full sight, tucked in between a tavern called The Sheep Pile and a cottage that was used by the tavern for paying guests. Truthfully, The Butcher’s was artfully camouflaged to make it look like it was part of The Sheep Pile.
But it wasn’t.
Sadly, for him, the gambling den seemed to be quite busy.
He could see men standing outside of it, talking and drinking, and there were more people going in and out of the tavern.
It was midmorning, nearing noon, so he could only assume the gamblers had just awoken and were now ready to wager away their money, whereas those visiting the tavern were ready to start in on their daily drink.
Whatever the case, the establishments appeared to be busy.
Much to his disappointment.
“What is that place?”
The question came from Anaxandra on his right. Silent Anaxandra. A woman who couldn’t even speak to him on their journey north, but now, she’d evidently found her tongue. He looked to see what she was pointing at.
“That place right there?” he said.
She nodded. “There are many people there.”
“That’s because it is a tavern,” he said. Then he pulled his horse to a stop. “They make a drink from apples and oats and honey. I’ve had it before. It’s quite strong.”
She looked at him curiously. “And you want some?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But Mateo might. If the man has a sore throat or cough, it could help him.”
“But that is why we have the onions and things from the apothecary.”
Estevan shrugged. “It canna hurt.”
He headed over toward the tavern, but there was a livery across the street.
In truth, it was simply an outbuilding with a corral for horses, but Estevan remembered it from the last time he was here, nearly three years ago.
It didn’t look any different than it had then.
As he approached it and dismounted, Anaxandra pulled in behind him.
“What are you doing?” she said. “We must return immediately.”
He looked up at her. “I’m going tae find Matty some of that drink,” he said. “Mayhap it’ll help the woman, too. Do ye want tae come with me or will ye wait here?”
She looked as if she didn’t understand the question.
Her features took on a kind of blank expression, and then she looked over at the tavern, watching the people milling around the entry.
There weren’t many, just a handful really, but there were enough.
And they were men. The more she looked at the tavern, the more apprehension she began to feel.
“I… I do not know,” she finally said. “I have never seen a place like that. What’s it for?”
He looked over at the tavern too. “Drinking,” he said. “Eating. Sleeping if ye’ve no where else tae go for the night. M’lady, I’m coming tae think ye simply dunna know about life outside of St. Margaret’s. Ye told me that ye’ve never been tae Dumfries, but have ye been anywhere at all? Ever?”
Anaxandra shook her head. “Nay,” she reluctantly admitted.
She seemed hesitant to continue, but her frustration got the better of her.
“Mother Michael does not allow us to go anywhere. When she told me to escort you to this village, it is simply because I am skilled with my weapon. I could help you in a fight. It is not because I know the road or the land or the town. I do not know anything, and I feel like—”
She suddenly stopped, embarrassed at her outburst. For Estevan, she was simply confirming everything he had suspected, so he leaned on his saddle, gazing up at her.
“What do ye feel like, lass?” he said softly. “This is all very new. If I were ye, I’d feel overwhelmed and possibly even afraid. This is a good deal tae manage for someone who has hardly been out of St. Margaret’s.”
His patient tone nearly undid her. She wasn’t used to such things, and most especially not from a man. “I feel as if I’m in another world,” she said. “I will admit something to you. I do not want to be a nun. I have a wandering soul, as Mother Michael says. I think about things in the Outworld.”
“Outworld?”
“Here,” she said, gesturing to the street, to the buildings. “Mother Michael calls this the Outworld. She says it is wicked, with wicked people, and that we are only safe living within the walls of St. Margaret’s. She does not like that I think on the Outworld and wonder about it.”
Estevan had a gentle expression on his face, one of patience and understanding. Coming around his horse, he held up a hand to her.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
Anaxandra didn’t know why he was holding a hand out to her. She didn’t need his help dismounting, so she slid off her horse and collected her crossbow.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
With a lazy smile on his face, Estevan winked at her before calling to the man who was in charge of the livery.
He asked the man to tend the horses, but he also handed the fellow the basket with the medicines in it for safekeeping.
After giving the man a coin, Estevan turned to Anaxander and took her hand in his.
“Come,” he said.
Like a fool, she simply followed him. She followed him toward the tavern, but to the west of the tavern was a merchant stall, the first in a line of such stalls, and the fabrics billowing from the entry door caught her attention.
When she hesitated a little, Estevan turned to see why. Then he saw what had her attention.
“Do ye want tae look in the stall?” he asked.
She shook her head quickly, as if fearful of such a thing. “Nay,” she said. “I… I’ve simply never seen anything like that.”
The smile never left Estevan’s lips as he pulled her over to the stall. It was like towing a barge. She didn’t want to go, but she wanted to go, but she didn’t want him to know she wanted to go. Estevan tugged on her, pulling her up to a table that was underneath an awning of sorts.
“Look at this,” he said, picking up a piece of fabric that was as fine as angel’s wings. “That is a beautiful piece. My mother would love it. So would my sisters. Zora would fight my mother for it.”
Anaxandra was looking at the fabric in awe. “Zora is your sister?”
“One of them,” Estevan said. “I have two. Zora is the baby. A tall, red-haired pest of a baby. There are times when I’d like tae put her in a basket and send her out tae sea.”
That brought a grin from Anaxandra. “She’s young, then?”
“She will have seen seventeen years this winter,” he said. “She has every man in the Highlands pining for her, and even some from England. The lass needs tae pick a suitor and become their problem.”
His annoyed manner was exaggerated as he said it, leading Anaxandra to understand that he was jesting. “A suitor?” she said. “I do not know this word.”
He looked at her with some disbelief. “A suitor,” he repeated. “Someone that comes tae court a woman. Do ye know about that?”
Anaxandra was suddenly embarrassed. He spoke as if she should know, and that made her defensive. “I have been raised in an abbey,” she said, putting the fabric down. “Just how much do you think I know about your world?”
She started to march away, but he grabbed her by the wrist. “Easy, lass,” he said in his deep, soothing tone. He had the ability to sound quite calm and, frankly, quite seductive if he wanted to. “No need tae fret. I simply asked a question.”
“You delivered judgment.”
He shook his head. “Nay, I dinna,” he said firmly. “If ye dunna know, I’ll tell ye. Would ye like me tae tell ye about suitors and courting?”
He could see her features tightening. Her breathing began to come more rapidly. “What does it matter?” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I will never have a suitor and no one will ever court me, so it does not matter. I do not want to go with you any longer. We must return immediately.”
With that, she turned away from him, but not before he saw tears in her eyes.
She was storming back in the direction of the livery and he caught up to her, grabbing her by the arm, which was the wrong thing to do.
She balled a fist and swung on him, but he threw both of his arms around her to hold her fast, preventing her from striking him.
It was the only thing he could think of in the moment.
“Easy, lass, easy,” he murmured, his mouth against the side of her head.
“I wasna trying tae offend ye. Ye said ye dinna know about such things and I simply offered tae tell ye. If ye want tae know about the world outside the walls of the abbey, I’ll tell ye.
Ye dunna have tae become angry with me.”
She was struggling in his embrace. “Release me,” she growled. “Release me or you will regret it.”
That only made him tighten his grip. “Nay,” he said. “I’ll not release ye, because if I do, ye’ll try tae beat me again and I’ll not let ye. Stop yer struggles.”
She wouldn’t, but she wasn’t fighting like she had been before. It was enough of a lull to cause Estevan to realize just how good she felt in his arms. She was soft and warm. He had blonde hair in his mouth and didn’t regret it.
He could have held her like that all day.
“Are ye calm now?” he asked, though he really didn’t care if she was or not. He was hoping that, maybe, she wasn’t. At least for a little while longer. “Well? Can I let ye go without losing teeth?”
By this time, she’d stopped fighting him completely. “I will not strike you,” she said.
Instantly, he let her go, but her hair was caught up in the neckline of his tunic, so he had to disengage it. It felt rather soft in his fingers. Like silk. He couldn’t help but notice how flushed she was.
Mayhap she liked it too, he thought.
“Come back tae the tavern with me,” he said, not giving her time to think or speak. “I must retrieve the drink for Matty. Come in and see what a tavern looks like.”