Chapter 7
On the fourth day, the sun began to sink toward the horizon.
Bella was exhausted. They'd been riding for several hours with only brief stops to rest and water the horses before they broke camp each night.
Her backside was sore, her legs ached, and her spine felt like it might snap from holding herself upright for so long and she was dusty from the road.
But she hadn't complained. Not once.
She could feel Boyd's eyes on her watching, assessing any sign of weakness.
But she would not give him the satisfaction.
She kept her back straight, her face composed, and her discomfort to herself.
Even when Thamas offered her water with a concerned look, she'd accepted gracefully and handed it back without comment.
The knowledge of her hidden knives in her boist was oddly comforting. It was a part of herself she'd kept safe from the world. A reminder that she was more than who Boyd thought she was.
Finally, just as full darkness was falling and Bella wasn't sure she could stay in the saddle another moment, Boyd raised his hand to signal to stop.
"There's an inn just ahead," he called back to his men. "We'll stop for the night. My wife needs more than just the hard ground to sleep upon tonight."
Relief flooded through Bella so intensely she nearly swayed in her saddle.
The inn appeared around the next bend. It was a sturdy stone building with warm light spilling from its windows and smoke curling from its chimneys. It looked like heaven.
Before Bella could dismount on her own, Boyd was there. He gripped her waist and lifted her down from the mare with ease, setting her on her feet.
Bella's legs nearly buckled. She'd been in the saddle so long they'd gone stiff and sore. Boyd's hands tightened on her waist, steadying her, and for just a moment they stood there, his body close enough that she could feel his heat.
Their eyes met, and Bella saw something flicker in his before he shuttered his expression again.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. This close, she could count his eyelashes. Could see the faint stubble on his jaw that she remembered scraping against her skin when they were young. Could remember everything they'd once been to each other.
Then he released her abruptly and turned away, barking orders to his men.
"See to the horses. Thamas, ye and Malcolm will take the first watch. Switch at midnight. The rest of ye make do in the stables."
"Aye, Laird," his men chorused, already moving to obey.
Boyd strode toward the inn's entrance, pausing only to look back at Bella. "Well? Come on then."
She followed on unsteady legs, trying not to limp.
Boyd waited for her then with an impatient sigh he closed the distance, swooped her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold as if she weighed nothing.
A surprised Bella clung to his shoulders.
She protested but stopped when he muttered, "Haud yer wheesht ye damned, slow wench. "
For some reason Bella wanted to chuckle at that comment, but she thought better of it when she noticed his deep scowl.
Once inside Boyd gently placed her on her feet, waited till she regained her balance then turned to summon the innkeeper.
The inn was warm and welcoming. A large fire crackled in the hearth, and the smell of roasting meat made Bella's stomach growl.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten a warm meal.
The innkeeper, a rotund man with a jovial face, hurried over when he saw them. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized Boyd.
"'Tis an honor to have ye here. I've my best room available and—"
"I'll take it," Boyd cut him off. "Have food and ale sent up. Enough for two. My men will need warm meals as well, and access to your stables."
"Of course, right away!" The innkeeper bobbed his head eagerly, his gaze sliding curiously to Bella. "And the lady?"
"My wife," Boyd replied flatly, and Bella did not miss the way the innkeeper's eyebrows shot up.
"Congratulations! I did not ken ye'd taken a bride. This calls for celebration—"
"It does not," Boyd growled. "Just see that the food is hot and the room is clean. I'll also need hot water to wash. My wife is tired from travel."
The innkeeper nodded then shouted orders to two serving women as he led them up a narrow staircase to a room on the second floor. It was simple but clean. A large bed dominated the space, with a washstand and tub in the corner and a small table with two chairs near the window.
One bed.
Bella's eyes locked on it as her heart began to race.
"There's a garderobe at the end of the hall and I'll have hot water brought up for bathing," the innkeeper said, already backing toward the door. "And the food will follow shortly."
Then he was gone, and Bella was alone with Boyd.
The room suddenly felt very small.
"Freshen yourself," Boyd said curtly, moving to the window and staring out at the darkening courtyard below. "I have matters to discuss with my men. I'll return to our bed later."
Our bed.
Bella's throat went dry. "But, I thought ye said—"
"Dinnae flatter yourself." Boyd did not turn around, but she heard the harsh edge in his voice.
"There's nothing I want from yer body. But these roads aren't safe, and these inns even less so.
I'll not have my wife stolen or harmed because I was too proud to share her chamber.
I need to guard ye." Boyd continued, his voice dropping lower, "So dinnae read anything into it. "
Bella lifted her chin. "Of course. I understand."
"Good." He strode toward the door. "I'll be back later. Dinnae go below or outside alone. Understood?"
"Aye." Bella seethed inside. The way he spoke to her was blunt and abrasive. She wanted to throw a flowerpot at his head but instead simply nodded.
He paused with his hand on the latch, his back to her. For a moment, Bella thought he might say something else. But then he yanked the door open and left without another word.
Bella stood frozen in the middle of the room, listening to his boots thunder down the stairs. Then she sank onto the edge of the bed and allowed herself, finally, to acknowledge how much pain she was in. Her entire body ached. Her heart ached worse.
Bella quickly made use of the amenities then returned to her room. Shortly after, a knock at the door made her jump. "Hot water, mistress!"
Bella opened the door to find a maid with a sympathetic smile and steaming buckets of water. Behind her was another serving girl also with buckets in her hand.
"Thank ye," Bella replied.
They moved past her and filled the large washbasin.
"Food will be up shortly, mistress. Is there anything else ye need?" The girl's eyes were kind, curious.
"No, thank ye. Ye've been very helpful."
After they left, Bella stripped off her travel-stained gown, stepped into the bath and with her lavender soap, scrubbed herself clean. She relished the feel of hot water on her aching muscles.
Once finished she dried herself by the fire and donned a clean shift and plain slippers when another knock sounded.
"Food, mistress!"
Bella wrapped herself in a clean arisaidh and opened the door. The aroma that wafted up made her mouth water, roasted chicken, fresh bread, cheese, and ale.
The maids removed the washbasin and left.
Bella ate standing at the window, watching Boyd in the courtyard below. He stood with his men, speaking in low tones she couldn't hear. But even from here, she could see the tension in his broad shoulders, the way he raked his hand through his hair in frustration.
What was he thinking? And why do I care?
But she did care. Heaven help her, she did. Because despite everything, some part of her still loved Boyd MacKinnon. And that was the most dangerous truth of all.
***