Chapter 8
“ A hot meal and two rooms, if it pleases you,” he said to the innkeeper, spotting her immediately.
Though Edlyn’s husband had died many years ago, during the same sickness that took Darien’s mother, she had maintained his family’s legacy here, as a haven for traveling nobles. It was lucrative for her, and much appreciated. Though he’d passed through before, it was the first time Darien found the need to rely on their famed discretion.
“It would please me more if you would introduce me to your companion,” the old woman replied, wiping her knotted hands on an already dusty apron. Despite the late hour of their arrival, if he smelled correctly, that was freshly baked bread dust she wore.
Liana was watching Edlyn carefully.
“Are not those the precise questions I pay good coin for you not to ask?” he teased.
“You know well, my lord, my discretion does not extend to personal curiosity.”
“Edlyn, this is Margot, my scribe. Margot, meet the innkeeper of this fine establishment.”
Though she did not believe him for a moment, Edlyn greeted Liana all the same. After walking them to a corner table in the great room of the inn, which was smaller than most but well furnished and clean, she scurried away, swatting a serving maid on her backside. Apparently, that was Edlyn’s way of sending the maid to their table.
As he and Liana sat, the young girl asked if they wished for ale or wine.
After Darien ordered two ales—Liana had surprised him with her request—the maid scurried away.
“A feisty one, is she not?”
“Edlyn? Aye. The first time I met her, my father had been taking me to a tournament. He refused to allow me to enter, but I’d convinced him to attend. She scared me more than any knight in attendance.”
“Is she married?”
“A widow. She has been the sole proprietor for many years.”
As the serving girl returned with two mugs and a tankard of ale and poured them, Liana rubbed her hands together. They sat not far from the hearth, a welcome respite after a day that had grown colder than most. Even in the few days since Darien had made the journey to his home, the coming winter began to rear its head.
“The world is not often kind to a woman alone. I admire her,” Liana said. “A thriving inn, tucked away as it is, can be no small feat to achieve.”
As they drank, Darien’s eyes darted to the few patrons scattered throughout the room. None appeared to be paying them any mind, a good thing, as it were.
“And yet, that is the path you choose?”
Liana’s cheeks, still pink from the cold, became even more pink. With her cloak removed, Liana’s deep green traveling gown cut low enough for her mark to show clearly, and Darien had some difficulty not looking at it. Not looking at her lips, wondering if she’d been kissed before. Not wanting to marry did not preclude being with a man.
By God, she was lovely.
“As I said?—”
“’Tis complicated.” He waved his arms. “We’ve naught to do but drink and eat and talk. Tell me.”
“And sleep.” She laughed. “I am as tired as I have ever been before. I am unused to a full day of riding.”
“But you are, it seems, accustomed to circumnavigating discussions you wish to avoid?”
She chuckled, the sound one that he could become accustomed to hearing. “When you live with a woman whose intuition is as strong as her reading skills, such a thing becomes necessary.”
He would not relent. “It is not necessary with me.”
Liana took it as a jest, but it wasn’t meant as one.
“You are the earl’s son,” she said finally, just as two bowls of stew were placed in front of them. And bread, thankfully.
“And you are the seer’s daughter.”
She took a bite, considering that. Liana clearly did not realize she was as elusive to Darien as he might seem to her. At times, he resented the influence her ancestors had over Ellswood. At others, he revered it.
“Perhaps,” he said, “we should simply be Liana and Darien on this journey. Who is Liana Fletcher? Tell me.”
“She is but a simple woman who lives with her mother in a cottage in the woods,” she said between bites.
He disagreed. “You are ‘aught but a simple woman, Liana. You’ve abilities many would revere.”
“And as many would see me hang for, as well.”
He ate, considering her words. “Do you fear as much? Being discovered?”
Sitting back, Liana lifted her mug of ale. He watched as she took it between her lips, the ginger sip doing nothing to calm thoughts of her he should not be having.
“My mother does, very much. I suppose she has instilled that fear within me.”
“Ely can be more accommodating than most, in terms of the unexplained. Do you not think?”
“I do,” she agreed. “And have told Mother as much, many times. After so many centuries of our families working together, I do believe many suspect it, despite the precautions.”
“My father and I have had similar discussions. He fears, as did his ancestors, appearing weak if our ties were to be uncovered.”
“Do you agree?”
That was an easy question for him to answer. “Nay. I do not. But neither do I—pardon my saying this—believe we have no autonomy, either. My father trusts in your mother’s visions to a fault. He overlooks his own free will to make decisions, at times.”
“No pardon is necessary. I believe a stance such as yours is a more balanced approach. After all, visions have interpretations. Why should you not have a hand in their interpretations as well? If not for being able to read the runes, but for being able to read the people of Ely and the political climate.”
He could not have said it any better himself. “Perhaps we will forge a new way, you and I.”
“Perhaps we will.”
It was an altogether pleasant meal, Liana as easy to converse with as any woman he’d met. Darien simply had to put aside thoughts of lying beside her, or of her lips or that mark between her breasts.
“My lord,” Edlyn interrupted them just as Darien was preparing to launch into a story, Liana having asked him to tell her more about Castle Blackwood. “I had hoped one of my patrons who currently occupies three rooms would be leaving this eve.” She nodded to the large group of men Darien had been watching in the far corner. “It appears they are not. I’ve only one room to offer and not the two you requested.”
With a quick peek at Liana, noting her apprehension, Darien accepted the innkeeper’s offer. “I will take the room for my scribe and sleep in the stable loft.” Before she could argue, he added, “Which I will pay for, of course.”
Edlyn frowned. “An earl’s son. In my stable. I like it not.”
Darien gave her the same look his father had perfected as a man unaccustomed to being questioned. One Darien himself often ignored, at times, to his own detriment.
“Very well, my lord. Here is the key.” She handed it to Liana. “The room is?—”
“I will show it to her,” Darien said, not planning to leave Liana until she was inside the room with it locked for the night.
“You do not know which room it is,” Edlyn countered.
“Four. I saw it on the key you handed her.”
“We will settle in the morn,” Edlyn said. “After you break your fast.”
“Of course. Good eve,” he replied. “Many thanks for the fine meal and accommodations.”
When Edlyn left, Liana still appeared worried.
“I will ensure you are safe,” he started, but she shook her head.
“I do not wish for you to sleep in the stable.”
“I’ve slept in much worse,” he assured her. “I know you worry for your reputation, Liana.”
Cocking her head to the side, Liana appeared confused.
“Do you not?” he asked, uncertain and wondering if he’d misread her.
“A woman of my age? Nay, ’tis not that.”
“I sensed your distress,” he pressed. “When Edlyn said she had but one room.”
At that, the seer blushed. A heat that had naught to do with their proximity to the fire crept up into her cheeks.
And that’s when Darien realized he was not alone in fighting a growing desire that could not, given their stations, end well.
It would be a long, long journey.