Chapter 19
As they continued through the market, they found themselves near a tavern.
"We should go in," Una announced. "Have a proper meal and ale. When was the last time ye did something just for the pleasure of it?"
Bella's eyes widened. "To the tavern? Una, I dinnae think I should without my husband—"
"'Tis just food and ale, Bella. Nothing scandalous." Una's voice was gentle but firm. "Yer guards can come too. Make it all respectable."
Bella glanced at Gilroy and Darach, who both shrugged.
"We dinnae mind," Gilroy said with a grin. "And we can keep an eye on ye better inside than trying to watch ye from the road."
Bella wavered. The abbey had been strict about avoiding such establishments. But it seemed like a respectable enough place and she was with friends. What could possibly go wrong?
"All right," she heard herself say. "But I'm paying. For all of us."
"Mistress, ye dinnae have to—" Darach started.
"I want to," Bella insisted. "Consider it thanks for keeping me safe."
The tavern was not too crowded with a few patrons enjoying a meal. The barkeep's eyes widened when he recognized the MacKinnon guards flanking Bella, but he quickly showed them to a table near the hearth.
Bella ordered food and ale for all of them, and soon they were enjoying hearty meat pies, fresh bread, and foaming tankards of ale.
Over the meal, Bella quietly told Una everything from her forced marriage to Boyd and Paisley and Bryce's lies that led to their breakup ten years ago.
"That hackit bitch!" Una replied. "I never liked her. To think she was scheming with yer useless, good-for-nothing brother all along. No wonder Bryce is out on his arse with the king. It makes sense now."
"What do ye mean?" Bella asked.
"Well, before I left to come here, there had been rumors that Bryce caused trouble with the woman they call the Mad MacKay Witch. Something about her inheritance. She's now married to the Ferguson laird."
Bella was quiet for a moment when a thought occurred to her. "I have an inheritance separate from my dowry. I remember hearing Father and Bryce talking about it. Bryce said, if I married, it would be forfeit. I never thought much about it until now."
Her thoughts were interrupted when Darach and Gilroy came to sit closer beside them. So they changed the topic.
"So," Una said, taking a large sip of her drink. "Tell me about these fine guardsmen of yers. Are they spoken for?"
Gilroy laughed. "I am a free man, but I'm sweet on a lass who does not even ken I exist."
Darach snorted. "Och, she kens ye exist. She just does not like ye because ye always say something that angers her!"
"Aye, that's true. She's so bonnie I simply lose all sense."
"What of ye, Darach?" Una asked. "Is there a Mrs. Darach waiting for ye at home?"
Darach laughed. "I'm still trying to work up the courage to properly court Fiona."
Bella blinked. "Fiona? The miller's daughter?"
Darach's face went red. "Aye, mistress."
"Fiona is a sweet girl. Have ye spoken to her yet?" Bella asked.
"No," Darach admitted. "She's so shy, I dinnae ken how to talk to her before she flees."
Una advised, "Ask her about her day. Make her laugh. That's all it takes."
"Is that what worked with yer husband?" Darach asked.
"Dinnae be daft, what do I need a husband for?" Una scoffed as she skulled her third tankard of ale.
They all laughed then.
Bella had just started on her third tankard of ale. She was feeling pleasantly warm and relaxed. Her cheeks were flushed, her movements looser, and her laughter came more freely.
A group of rough-looking men entered, already deep in their cups despite the early hour. They were loud, boisterous, and the barkeep was eyeing them warily.
"Trouble," Gilroy muttered, his hand moving instinctively toward his side, though he made no move for his sword.
"Maybe they'll just drink and leave," Darach said hopefully, though he too had straightened in his seat, ready to move if needed.
But of course, they did not.
One of the men, a large, brutish fellow, spotted Una and Bella sitting at their table. His eyes lit up with drunken interest, and he elbowed his companions.
"Look at that," he said loudly. "Two bonnie lasses."
"They're not alone," Gilroy said, standing up and moving to intercept. "And they're not for the likes of ye."
The man laughed, a nasty sound. "Did I ask ye, guardsman? Maybe the ladies can speak for themselves."
He started toward their table, and Una stood up, slightly tipsy. "We're not interested. Move along."
"Feisty," the man leered, reaching for Una's arm. "I like that in a woman."
What happened next occurred in the span of a heartbeat.
The man's hand closed around Una's wrist and he yanked her roughly out of her seat. Bella moved without thinking, shooting to her feet and shoving the man away from her friend with surprising force.
"Dinnae touch her," Bella said, her voice deadly calm.
The man stumbled back, then his face darkened with rage. "Ye whore!"
He swung at Bella.
Gilroy and Darach both lunged forward, but Bella had already moved. She ducked under the wild punch, feeling it whistle past her ear.
Then, with movements honed by years of training, Bella struck back.
Her fist connected with the man's nose with a satisfying crack. Blood spurted, and he reeled back, more from shock than pain. Bella swept his legs out from under him, and he went down hard, crashing into a nearby table.
The man's companions roared with anger and rushed forward. One of them, a wiry fellow with mean eyes, came straight at Bella. She sidestepped his clumsy grab and sent him sprawling with a well-placed strike.
Gilroy caught another attacker with a solid punch. Darach grappled with a fourth man, wrestling him toward the ground.
Una grabbed a trencher and swung it at the nearest troublemaker, connecting with his face. "Leave us alone, ye skunner!" she shrieked, swaying but fierce.
Another man, large and hulking, managed to get behind Bella while she was focused on the wiry attacker. His thick arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back against his chest in a bruising grip.
"Got ye now, ye wee wildcat," he breathed against her ear, his breath reeking of ale and rot.
The tavern door slammed open with such force it crashed against the wall and everyone froze at the roar accompanying it.
"GET YER HANDS OFF MY WIFE!"
Boyd stood in the doorway, his massive frame filling the entrance, his face thunderous with rage. His sandy hair was windswept, his traveling cloak billowing behind him, and his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, locked onto the man holding Bella with murderous intent.
The rowdy men began to shake with genuine fear. Unlike most of the village patrons who knew Boyd as the MacKinnon Laird, these men were not local. They were mercenaries and they only saw the deadly Monk standing before them with violence in his eyes.
The one holding Bella pleaded with a trembling voice, "Please. I... I did not ken she was yers. I swear it—"
Then Boyd moved with lightning speed, crossing the distance in powerful strides. Before he could finish his sentence, Boyd's fist connected with the man's jaw with a sickening crack. His head snapped back, his eyes rolling, and he crumpled to the floor unconscious.
Bella stumbled forward, freed from his grip, but Boyd was already there. He caught her, spinning her around so her back pressed against his front. His arm banded across her waist like an iron bar, holding her firmly against him, claiming her.
"Anyone else?" Boyd's voice was deadly quiet, but it carried to every corner of the tavern. His arm tightened possessively around Bella. "Anyone else dare to put their hands on my woman?"
The remaining mercenaries did not move, terror written across their faces.
Boyd's arm remained locked around Bella's waist, her back flush against his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, the tension thrumming through his body.
"Listen well, all of ye," Boyd said, his voice ringing across the silent tavern. "This woman is my wife. Mine. Not one of ye is to touch her. Not one of ye is to even look at her the wrong way, or ye'll answer to me."
Boyd then addressed the mercenaries. He stared directly at their leader who looked terrified. "Ye ken who I am. Ye ken what I'm capable of. Ye have one hour and then I'm coming for ye. Go!"
To everyone's shock, the men immediately panicked and practically fell over themselves as they raced out of the tavern and sprinted for their horses.
"Boyd," Bella whispered, "Who are they?"
"Dead men."
But he wasn't finished.
"I love my wife! I enjoy coupling with my wife. She pleases me in and out of bed," Boyd announced to the entire tavern. "I plan to make love to her every night and every morning for the rest of our lives. So, I dinnae appreciate any man touching what is mine!"
Bella gasped and blushed bright red.
Several women sighed. Men chuckled. Una, drunk and emotional, had tears glistening in her eyes.
"He loves ye, he really loves ye, Bella!" she said.
Before Bella could respond, before she could even process what was happening, Boyd released her waist only to bend slightly and heft her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Boyd!" Bella shrieked, her world suddenly upside down. She grabbed at his back, her face level with his waist. "Put me down!"
"No," Boyd replied calmly, as if carrying his wife out of a tavern over his shoulder was perfectly normal behavior. He dug coins from his purse and tossed them to the barkeep. "For yer troubles."
He turned toward the door, Bella still slung over his shoulder, one of his hands resting possessively on the back of her thigh to keep her secure.
"Boyd, people are watching!" Bella hissed, mortified beyond words.
"Let them watch," Boyd replied, striding toward the exit.
The tavern erupted in catcalls and whistles.