Chapter Four
“Excuse you.”
Emer looked up at the large man beside her. “Excuse me?”
“Yes. You.” He pointed at the cinnamon in her hand. “I was reaching for that and you grabbed it out from under me.” He frowned at her, his steel-gray eyes piercing her soul with fury. His hair and beard were cut short, both a pale brown that shone blonde in the sun.
“I think we were both reaching for it,” she corrected politely. “I assure you I didn’t try to take it from you. I didn’t even notice you there until just now.”
Her answer, which she felt was quite polite considering his aggressive attitude, appeared only to anger him further.
His face flushed beneath his beard. “Well?” he demanded. “Are you going to give it to me?”
Emer took a step back, but didn’t release her hold on the cinnamon stick. She wasn’t about to let this man bully her into losing the most important item on her shopping list. What was it about her that possessed the men of this town to think they could push themselves on her?
“I most certainly am not. For one thing, you haven’t asked me nicely. And I need it for tonight and there’s only one left.”
“I know,” he growled. “That’s why I need it.”
Normally, Emer might have given it to him. She wasn’t mean-spirited or vindictive. But this man was acting like a brute over the smallest perceived slight. She was not going to reward such behavior.
“I’m very sorry, sir, but you’ve given me no reason to humor you.
” She winced internally at her own harsh words.
Emer believed the best gift you could give someone was to raise their spirits, and she was doing just the opposite at the moment.
It grated her own nerves that this conversation had gone so far sideways in so short a time.
She felt like she was riding a runaway horse and had lost her grip on the reins.
Quickly, she paid Scanlon and walked away from the infuriating man before she really lost her temper.
The brute followed her.
Emer had been threatened by men more times than she cared to count. Several had gotten violent with her over the years—most notably Oran, whose guesting house now belonged to her on account of his lack of good manners. The one thing she didn’t want was to be stuck in a dangerous situation alone.
She slowed, coming to a halt before she left the market square behind them and spinning to face the man. “I’m not giving it to you,” she told him again. “Please leave me alone.”
Fury rippled off him in waves, but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he took a step backward. “Did you wake up this morn only to torment me?”
Emer blinked in confusion. What an odd question.
“Sir,” she tried again, with patience she didn’t quite feel at the moment.
“Don’t you think this response is a bit disproportional to the problem?
The spice merchant will be back in a few weeks, and you can get your own cinnamon then. Probably more than one stick, even.”
“I won’t be here in a few weeks,” he grumbled, looking no less mollified for her attempt at pacifying him.
“Where are you going?” He’d probably have an easier time finding the rare spice at one of the larger towns anyway.
“None of your business.”
Emer took a breath, letting his poor mood roll off her like an unwanted cloak. “Well, wherever it is, I’d suggest looking there for it.”
He rolled his stony eyes, as though that were the stupidest suggestion he’d ever heard. Sinewy arms crossed over his thick chest. “I have to get it here.”
Was that desperation she heard, or was she just hoping he retained a shred of decency? “Why?”
“Also none of your business.” The acid returned to his words full force.
The latter. Definitely the latter. “I’m sorry for your trouble today, but I really need to be going.” Emer tried once more to leave the man behind.
Once more, he followed. This time, he cut her off, striding ahead to stand between her and the way home. “My only trouble today is you, woman.”
How? How did she manage to keep finding men like this? Alannah pestered her about getting married, but why on earth would she want to when every man she encountered bullied her? Was there something about her that was innately irritating to men?
Emer sighed. “And I apologize again.” She tried to step around him.
He blocked her. “What if I buy it from you? I’ll pay double.”
The man was insane. Perhaps that was the trouble—she kept meeting lunatics.
But he was also clearly desperate. “If you tell me why you want it so badly, I’ll give it to you for free.”
He looked like his head might explode. Or melt. His mouth opened and closed several times.
After several moments, Emer pressed her advantage.
“See? I as good as hand it to you, and you can’t even tell me why it’s worth all this hassle.
Now you look here. Normally, I’d be inclined to give it to you, but I am sick and tired of being pushed around by men whose mothers have failed to teach them anything resembling manners.
You couldn’t even ask me for it nicely. You went straight to trying to force me to give it to you.
It concerns me that you leapt straight to aggression over such a small, insignificant thing.
So no, to answer your question, I’m not going to sell it to you, or give it to you, or speak with you any longer you brutish, insufferable pig! ”
This time when Emer stormed by, he let her pass. She let out a gasp of relief. She didn’t know what she would have done had that not worked. Everything about that exchange upset her.
She hated when men pushed her around.
She hated when she was mean to anyone.
She hated when she lost her temper.
Most of all, she hated that she’d nearly made it back to the Hart’s Rest on the other side of town and she still couldn’t get that wretched man from her mind. Emer couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so angry.
Some of her bluster faded as the familiar line of the wattle palisade rose at the end of the path.
The gate stood open, offering Emer a clear view into the home she and her sister had built together.
It had taken months, but between Emer cutting and hauling branches and Alannah weaving them into first the three-foot-tall palisade and then the giant hostelry, they’d managed to bring their dream to life.
The hostelry was twenty-five feet tall and twice as wide, shaped like an upended bowl.
They kept the top thatched for added insulation from the damp and cold, and a large hearth commanded the center of the main room.
It had been a beast to build it so high, but Alannah had set her mind on it.
Trestle tables and benches in orderly rows took up much of the available space.
To the left near the back door, Emer’s kitchen stood sentinel, complete with its own tables and counters and storage spaces.
A low half wall ringed the rest of the room, creating sleeping compartments for those who didn’t mind sharing the space with others.
Most of their guests stayed in one of the compartments, either for the company, the warmth of the hearth, or the low cost of the accommodation.
Since opening their doors, Alannah had added four smaller roundhouses on the back of their property for those who wanted a room to themselves.
Their finest room was a ten-foot by eight-foot stone cottage, a perfect mirror to the one Emer shared with her sister when they weren’t busy with their guests.
When she entered the balmy common room, Alannah intercepted her, placing her hands on Emer’s shoulders like she was stopping an errant child.
“Whoa, lady,” she smiled. “Are you alright?” Alannah narrowed her eyes, then raised a brow. “You look—angry. Lord, what happened? You’re never angry.”
Emer released a shuddering breath, the last one she’d allow spared over that man.
“Some man in the market was just horrible,” she admitted, wincing yet again.
“He was so upset that I bought the last stick of cinnamon that he followed me from the market and—” Emer swallowed, ashamed to admit she’d gotten so cross with him.
“And?” Alannah prompted impatiently.
“I called him a pig.” Emer felt her cheeks heat. “A brutish, insufferable pig.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “I can’t believe I said such a thing.”
“Neither can I. Emer,” Alannah said softly, “he didn’t try to hurt you did he?”
Emer shook her head. “No, no. He kept his distance. He just wouldn’t leave me be.”
“Do you want me to go find him and make it clear that he was being an ass?”
“You can’t go picking fights with every man who pushes me around,” Emer told her. “And no need, I don’t think he’ll be a problem.” She meant it, too.
Her one consolation was that the man said he was leaving town, which meant she’d never have to see him again.