Chapter 8
“Is this really necessary?” Janie sighed. “I’m nae going to spit in yer wife’s pottage, if that’s what ye are afraid of.”
Evander gave a grim smile, leaning back against the rough kitchen wall and folding his arms.
“I am nae afraid of that,” he responded brusquely.
Janie wisely did not ask him just what exactly he was afraid of. She said nothing, continuing to stir a huge vat of bubbling pottage. The stew smelled delicious, savory, and rich, with a good gravy. Despite its unappetising name, the Gristle-Pig served good, simple food.
As of yet, Evander had no idea how Skye’s kidnapping had come about. He could only assume she was drugged and had been drugged repeatedly during her captivity. That would certainly explain the memory loss.
It made sense, then, that whatever had been used to drug her would have been put in her food or drink. Spiced wine would hide the flavor of some bitter paralytic herb, and a bowl of good pottage, with all its clashing flavors, would nicely conceal a good handful of Devil’s Dream.
Devil’s Dream, colloquially known as dreamroot in some parts, could make a person sleep deeply and heavily for hours at a time, depending on the dosage. Its flavor was bitter, but the leaves themselves could be minced, looking like innocent herbs.
Janie added nothing to either bowl. He didn’t really think that she would have tried it, with or without him staring at her, but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.
“Since ye are hovering in me kitchen,” Janie observed, pushing two bowls of stew toward him, “ye can take the bowls in, aye?”
“If ye like,” he responded, having fully intended to do just that.
Stepping forward, he took a steaming bowl in each hand. The smell of the gravy made his mouth water.
“I’ll call ye when yer wife’s bath is ready,” Janie added, offering him a wry smile. “She’s a fiery one, eh?”
Evander hesitated, wondering if he should scold the woman for her flippant tone. In her defence, Janie had never once looked at him with interest. He wasn’t even sure if she knew he was a man at all.
There was a wistful look in her eyes when she spoke, her hand creeping up to where her limp hair was tied up behind a scarf. He wondered if she was thinking of Skye’s thick, rich locks, beautiful even when tangled and a little grimy.
“Aye, she is,” he said at last.
“Ye are a lucky man.”
Evander flinched, and a little hot gravy ran over his thumb. He winced.
“Aye,” he responded, a little more shortly than before. “I am lucky. Her water will be good and hot, will it nae?”
Janie rolled her eyes. “Nay, me Laird, I always make sure me guests have ice-cold water to bathe in. Away with ye, and eat up. Ye both look starved.”
Chuckling, Evander ventured out into the common room again. He had left Skye sitting in a small, private alcove, dominated by a rough-scrubbed table. Janie’s father was currently talking animatedly to her.
Leaving her alone was not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was the prospect of somebody slipping something in her pottage. Or in his pottage, leaving her free to be kidnapped once more.
Janie’s father nodded and smiled, retreating as Evander approached, leaving him free to slip into the empty seat opposite Skye.
Her eyes were wide, flitting around the noisy, crowded room as if she could not figure out what to look at next.
“Comfortable?” he inquired.
She winced. “I wouldnae say comfortable, but I am glad nae to be riding anymore.”
“How did the sweet little mare treat ye?” he asked with a grin, pushing her bowl toward her. “Eat up, by the way.”
She scowled, taking the bowl. “She tried to buck me off four times, as ye well ken. I think she is used to me now, though. Although,” she added, reddening, “if ye want to swap horses tomorrow, that would be acceptable.”
He snorted. “Nae likely. That mare of yers is mad. Me wee gelding is a dream.”
“Wretch,” she muttered. “I should have ken. Is there no bread?”
“They’ve run out till tomorrow. Just the pottage.”
Skye shrugged, sinking her spoon into the pottage. She ate ravenously, her lips glistening with grease. He watched her for a moment, stirring the spoon in his bowl.
“Hungry, are ye?” he commented.
She winced, nodding. “I daenae ken when I last ate. And that’s nae an exaggeration. As far as I can remember, I havenae eaten in the past year.”
“But ye must have.”
“Well, aye, I have. It’s awful, ye ken. Having a gap in yer memory like this.”
He took a tentative bite of his pottage. It was delicious, as usual.
“I can imagine,” he murmured. “Nay, that isnae true. I cannae imagine, and I daenae care to.”
She nodded. “I’d nae wish this on anyone else.”
He paused. “Nay?”
She gave a harsh laugh, meeting his eyes. “It’s awful. Like having a blind spot. Ye are constantly thinking of who or what might be hovering out there, waiting to attack. Ye are always thinking of… of what might be coming. Of what ye might miss.”
Evander considered that.
“I got hit in the face with a training staff when I was fourteen,” he said abruptly.
She raised her eyebrows. “Me condolences…?”
“What I mean is, me eye swelled up. It was bad. I was lucky nae to lose me eye, really. So it swelled up so bad that I couldnae see out of that eye for a few days. I remember how I used to turn in circles trying to see everything. I’d taken it for granted, being able to see everything.
“Me faither wouldnae let me take time off training. He said I needed to be strong. So I kept sparring, and the other lads quickly learned to attack from me blind spot. I just never saw them coming. That blind spot was all I thought about. I suppose… I suppose it’s a wee bit like that.”
“A wee bit,” she agreed, eyeing him thoughtfully.
They ate in silence after that, munching and slurping until their spoons scraped the bottom of the bowls. On cue, Janie appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Yer room is ready,” she announced. “And yer bath, me Lady.”
Skye’s face lit up. “Me bath! At last.” Then she paused, her expression darkening. “Wait, did she say our room? As in, our room, singular?”
“Ah,” Evander sighed. “About that.”
Ten minutes later, the two of them stood side by side, staring into their room.
“Could ye nae at least have asked for two beds?” Skye muttered bitterly.
Evander winced. “It would have looked odd, would it nae? We’re wed, remember? I introduced ye as me wife.”
“Aye, but—”
“Besides, I am trying to keep an eye on ye,” he added, a little more tersely than before. “So I willnae sleep in a separate room, if that’s all the same to ye. Cannae do much protecting with a wall and a pair of locked doors between us, can I?”
She scowled but said nothing, a sure sign that she wanted to disagree with him on principle but could not pick fault with his logic. He remembered that well enough from their brief, tumultuous acquaintance a year ago.
Janie had tactfully disappeared some minutes ago, leaving Evander with the key in his hand. Skye stepped forward tentatively, and he followed, taking in the space.
It was a decent enough room, considering the calibre of the Gristle-Pig. The floor was well-swept and clean, the ceiling mostly free of cobwebs and dust.
Neat curtains hung at the window, and a crisp, warm fire crackled in the hearth. A large bed dominated most of the room, laden with blankets and furs. When Skye shuffled over to it and perched uncertainly on the edge, the ropes groaned and creaked.
And, of course, there was the bathtub.
A large copper tub gleamed before the fire, steam rising from the hot water inside. The faint scent of lavender made Evander’s nostrils twitch. Sure enough, when he leaned forward, he saw sprigs of purple lavender and even rose petals floating in the water.
“Janie had drawn ye a fine bath,” he remarked. “And look, a nightdress and a drying sheet hanging by the fire. What a treat, eh?”
Skye bit her lip, staring at the bath as if it were going to bite her.
“I thought there would be a wee washroom,” she confessed.
He shook his head. “They daenae have spare space for such things here. Ahh, I understand. It’s privacy ye are worried about.”
She reddened. “I’d like to bathe in peace.”
“Well, fear nae. I’m nae going to ogle ye.”
“Ye arenae going to leave?”
“May I remind ye that I have to keep yer safe?” he retorted.
“Yer cousin saw yer return. Everybody kens that ye are back. If ye were to disappear now, when ye are in me sole care, that would guarantee war. I cannae risk it. So, ye and I are joined at the hip until I am confident I’ve addressed whatever happened to make ye disappear before. Hence, we’re sharing the room.”
She was quiet for a moment, no doubt processing what he’d said. Evander watched her closely, letting her think.
A faint blush crawled over her cheeks. He watched it spread down her jaw and inch down her neck. She rarely blushed, making her behavior today a little odd. In fact, when he’d first met her, it almost seemed as though she were made of marble.
She’d had to be, of course. A woman like Skye could never cede control to anyone, and she was far too used to being in charge of everything, including her own emotions. She couldn’t let go, not even for a moment.
I believed that I could help her let go.
He pushed the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time, not by a long shot.
“Look,” he said with a sigh. “Yer water is getting cold. I’ll go over to this end of the room and turn me back. Ye undress and get in, and then once ye are in the tub, all will be well. I’ll nae see a thing. We’ll do the same when ye want to get out.”
She worried her lower lip. “Ye willnae peek?”
“Wouldnae dream of it.”
She blinked, clearly unhappy with the situation, but it was pretty clear there was no alternative.
“Fine. Turn around.”
He obediently turned, facing the rough stone wall of the room. Janie and her parents ran a decent inn, but their profits did not extend to hanging tapestries on the walls.
Fair enough.