Chapter 4
They had not ridden for more than half the day when the light began to fail.
An icy drenching rain swept in from the west and began pattering onto Meria’s traveling cloak hood.
She peered through the mist, hoping to see the outline of her guide in the distance, but a swirl of lowering clouds obscured her view.
Meria had never been so cold and damp in her life before.
Every few miles, she would find Mister Kerr waiting for her by the side of the road, a flask of water or a dried bannock in his hand as he enjoyed a break from riding.
The moment Meria caught up with him, he would stow his supplies back in the saddlebags and mount his horse, saying, “Finally! Let’s be off then, shall we?
” and then off he would canter into the thick Highland fogs.
She had only herself to blame for this seemingly callous behavior, though.
The first time she had caught up with him and found him munching on an apple, he had reached over and offered her a sip from his flask.
“It’s spring water, lass. Quenches the thirst far better than ale. Would ye care for an apple?”
Meria had turned her nose up at his offer and looked at the flask with revulsion. “It’s so wet that if I wanted water, all I would have to do is open me mouth! And no, I dinnae want one o’ yer scabby apples! I only eat fruit after they have been baked in a pie!”
After that, whenever she caught up with Kerr, he would only wait for the vague outline of her silhouette to break through the mist before vaulting onto his horse and racing away. This time, it was too much to bear.
“Wait!” she cried out before he could race off again.
“Hear me out, please.” She watched him bide his time awhile, one hand on the pommel of his horse’s saddle, ready to mount and leave at the first sign of missish or prideful behavior.
“Forgive me if I sounded ungrateful for yer offer of refreshment.” By this time the rain had become heavier and the drops were beating onto her face with a stinging ferocity.
“But I am heartsore for the comforts of me home.”
Silence. She saw him blink his eyes to rid his lashes of rain droplets; all he was wearing to protect his head from the rain was a gray woolen bonnet with a sodden toorie of MacTavish plaid tied to it.
“So ye decided to take yer sorrow out on me?” Kerr said in a voice that held no emotion.
He was only stating a fact. Weary and on the edge of breaking down into helpless weeping, Meria nodded.
He seemed to accept her explanation and bear no grudge for her petulance. “There’s an inn at the next crossroads. We can spend the night there.” He shrugged his broad shoulders but did not smile.
The thought of warming her hands over a warm fire almost made Meria scream with happiness, but she remembered she was a lady and must not show her emotions to a common soldier.
She picked up the reins with frozen fingers, gave a gracious smile, and followed him.
He set the pace at a gentle trot, and after a few false alarms with Meria mistaking a blacksmith’s stables and a draper’s shop front for the inn, they reached the hostelry's courtyard.
Meria kept her head held high when she handed the ostler the reins, slipping the young lad a penny and asking him to rub down her rouncy horse well before putting the mare into a stall.
As she watched her escort preparing to rub his horse down himself, she slipped the ostler another penny.
“Offer to do that for the man. Tell him ye supply the service for free at the inn. And feed the horses the best oats too. Don’ say I gave ye money for it. ”
Aye, she hated him for tearing her away from her home without so much as allowing her the time to bid her childhood friends and family farewell, but Meria would not be able to enjoy the heat of any fire while her traveling companion was still outside, drying his horse in the freezing stables.
She waited for the ostler to approach Mister Kerr and lead his horse away. He walked over to where she stood, and she lowered the hood off her head so that she could look up at his face.
“Thank ye for that,” he said gruffly. “I have ridden these roads well enough to ken they don’ rub down the horses for free.” He turned and walked to the inn’s entrance.
What a mysterious man. He says few words and is so restrained in his actions that it always seems as if he has something else on his mind other than the task at hand.
The innkeeper was looking at Kerr with a doubtful expression on his face, but when the man saw Meria following behind, he beamed a wide smile. “Of course I have a chamber for ye…er?”
“I am Lady Meria of the Calvins. We require a parlor with a fire an’ a wee bite to eat immediately! Then ye can serve yer supper to us in yer own time. I’m nigh dead with hunger an’ cold!”
The innkeeper rubbed his hands together.
“The best suite is dear, but what d’ye expect on such a frosty night?
” He clapped his hands together and told the servant to run out to the stables and fetch the lady’s traveling chest inside.
Then he looked at the escort with an inquiring expression.
Kerr said nothing, just raised an arm over which his saddlebags were draped.
The innkeeper nodded and told the couple to follow the maid upstairs.
Meria flung the cloak off her shoulders and ran toward the fireplace with her hands outstretched. “Och, I never thought I would be so glad to see a fire in me life!” she said to no one in particular. The sound of saddlebags being flung on the floor behind her made her look back.
“The chambers only have one door,” her traveling companion stated calmly. She did not know what that meant, and it must have shown on her face because he continued, “That means there’s only one bedchamber.”
She noticed how he had not removed his wolf pelt cloak or allowed the plaid that covered his shoulders to drop back down.
“Where are ye goin’ to sleep, Mister Kerr?
” Meria honestly did not know how to handle this predicament.
This was the first night she would ever be spending away from home.
She was not even sure if the man should be allowed to share the parlor with her.
Once again, he seemed to read her thoughts without words being spoken between them.
He picked up his bags, walked to the door, and began to open it.
“Wait! Stay…” Meria looked at the chair opposite her and pointed at it. “I am sure there will be nay impropriety if we sit nice an’ cozy by the fire?” He moved to sit down, but she clucked her tongue. “Och, I will nae bite or complain if ye remove those wet outer garments o’ yers, Mister Kerr.”
That made him smile, and the grin made his entire appearance change.
All at once, he seemed to become a carefree friendly young man, ready for a laugh and a joke.
Meria relaxed and was pleased she had trusted her instincts.
Once he removed his wet outer clothes, the heat from the fire began to dry the clammy shirt from sticking to the skin of his arms. He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together in front of the flames.
She watched his damp hair flicker in the firelight and then fall over his face, but he did not flick it away. Instead, he turned to regard her.
It made Meria feel self-conscious to know he was looking at her from underneath the curtain of hair falling over his eyes.
“I must look a sad sight after riding so far in the rain and cold,” she said with a light laugh, shaking some droplets of water out of the long spirals of her hair.
“Is me nose red? It feels so cold and wet I cannae be sure anymore!”
He gave a short chuckle, but she could tell it was not at her expense. “Get a hot meal inside ye an’ ye’ll thaw out soon enough.”
She was reluctant to leave the parlor but wanted to walk around before eating her supper. “Shall we go downstairs to the taproom? My servants tell me there is a great degree o’ comfort to be had from dining in public spaces.”
Meria was sure he was laughing at her regal manners, but when he replied, his voice was steady.
“Aye, lass, ye’re right. The inn’s full to overflowin’, and ye’re sure to be waitin’ a wee while for that food ye crave. Let’s go down.”
Their clothes were relatively dry now, so Meria followed her escort downstairs.
When they entered the taproom, she was amazed to see the walls lined with casket after casket of ale barrels.
The moment one was drained empty, one of the serving girls would call the barman to heft it down to the cellars and move to pour the drinks out of another one.
The innkeeper pulled at her sleeve when she walked past him.
“Beg pardon, Lady Calvin… I didnae see ye were a maiden because of the hood covering yer hair.” He indicated to the riot of red ringlets cascading down Meria’s back, the sign she was unmarried.
“I would find another bedchamber for yer escort, but the inn is full to overflowin’.
P’raps he can sleep over the horses in the hay stowed in the barn roof? ”
Lord… Mister Kerr already thinks I’m stuck up and too high in the instep. If he has to sleep in the barn tonight, I have nay doubt he will gallop off tomorrow at the first chance he gets and leave me to travel on me own!
“Good innkeeper,” Meria said in her most ladylike voice, “dinnae fash over me guard’s accommodation. He can sleep on the floor in the parlor. It should be comfortable enough for him there.”
The innkeeper bowed and said he was going to fetch her a bowl of soup.
When Meria turned to scan the taproom, she found Kerr was already seated on one of the benches.
He saw her searching the crowd for him and waved her over.
Trying not to get bumped and jostled by the taproom patrons, she walked over to him.
Hesitating for one moment, not sure how to tuck her skirts around the bench, Kerr said, “Just hoist yer leg over, lass. No one will be bothered if they catch a sight o’ yer ankle. ”
She did what he said, but after settling her skirts back around her ankles after sitting down, Meria could not resist saying in a prim tone, “I’ll have ye ken, Mister Kerr, that a lady would never allow her legs to be seen by anyone other than her husband!”
He allowed the hair to fall over his face again. “A leg’s a leg, lass,” he growled in a low voice, and then took a short pull of his ale.
Meria was dying for the innkeeper to bring her the soup and was seriously contemplating pulling the mug out of her escort’s hand so she might drink it. Her hunger and thirst made her careless. “If ye are thinking to compare yer leg to mine own, Kerr, I will be most upset!”
Her eyes moved down to where his thigh was almost touching her own: one so hard and muscular and the other demurely covered in a woolen riding skirt.
He caught her staring at him. “I meant nay offense, lass. Ye are as delicate as a flower and slim as a reed…an’ as pretty as a rose in bloom.
Don’ mind me. I have nay experience makin’ polite conversation with ladies. ”
Her heart was touched, although she was too innocent to know it.
“An’ I have nay experience talking to men, sir, but if they give me one half the charming compliments ye have just paid me, I’m sure I will come to like the male sex very well indeed.
” She smiled at him, a genuine light of friendship in her eyes.
“May I no’ call ye something other than Mister Kerr?
We have three or four days of travel ahead of us if I recall ye sayin’.
So we may as well drop our courtly manners toward one another. ”
“When we reach yer destination, lady, it will no’ go well with me if Laird MacTavish hears ye hail me by name.” He repulsed her gesture of friendship with no regret, abruptly pushing himself away from the table, saying, “I’m off to find our ruddy food!”
Meria Calvin was left all alone at the table. Just then, a serving wench plonked a pewter bowl of soup and a hunk of bread in front of her.
I will nae call him back an’ share me supper with him! Serve him right for being such a pompous, arrogant, mean man!
Meria tried to feel triumph at the arrival of her meal, but a man had shifted over to sit closer to her.
“Are ye bound for Laird MacTavish’s castle, lady?”
She found it intriguing that the man sitting next to her could be the same sex as her escort. Her new neighbor was short, portly, and had a smiling face. Meria gave a cautious nod of her head and continued spooning soup into her mouth.
“Have ye heard the news?” the man said. All Meria did was raise her eyebrows and shake her head.
“Hoots! Lady, the Highlands can talk o’ naught else!
Some young fool has agreed to marry auld Hamish MacTavish.
Can ye believe it? The man is sixty years auld if he’s a day, an’ some silly landowner has bargained away his daughter into a bonded marriage in exchange for peace. ”
Meria felt the color drain out of her face but managed to swallow the bread in her mouth and look interested.
Her dining neighbor obliged; the ale had loosened his tongue.
“One fool in the family is bad, but that clan must have two fools in the family—faither an’ daughter both!
If I were lucky enough to be the faither of a sweet daughter, I would make sure to send spies over to MacTavish Castle to find out how many of the gravestones in the churchyard belonged to auld Hamish MacTavish’s female victims. The man’s more of a monster than human! ”
Another alehouse patron sitting across from them joined in the conversation.
“Ye’re forgettin’ that MacTavish kills anyone he finds on his lands without his permission.
If ye step foot over his boundaries without a letter of introduction sayin’ ye’re a mercenary lookin’ for work…
” The man made a slicing gesture across his throat and a hissing noise with his mouth.
“He is scared of spies telling the world about the havey-cavey business he gets up to inside his castle—whipping the slaves, starving the maids, an’ sendin’ the ones he don’ like over to his half-brither’s bawdy house to be used as tavern wenches! ”
Meria had witnessed drunken chatter before, and she knew the difference between idle exaggeration and the truth. These men were telling the truth. Under the sensational claims they were making was a genuine core of fear and disbelief.
“How now, gents?” Kerr had come up behind them, and as he sat down on the bench beside her, Meria found herself glancing at the flash of skin under his plaid. “What’s all this chat about?”
The two men went pale and backed far away. Meria saw they were looking at the toorie on Kerr’s wool bonnet tucked into the side of his belt. “Och, lad, we were only passing the time o’ the evening with the lady, ye ken…no harm done.”