“Valet parking, nice.” Colleen giggled then clapped a hand over her mouth at a sharp, rebuking glance from Faolan.
“Stay close until I take full measure of what lies within,” Faolan warned, pushing open the heavy oak doors and escorting her inside with a gentle but firm hand riding possessively at the small of her back. Colleen was overwhelmed by the rich sensations that enveloped her–the fresh smell of the rushes covering the wood floor, savory meat pastries and loaves of bread piping hot from the oven, the crackle of the peat fire to which fragrant flowers had been added. Although early, the tavern appeared to be somewhat quiet with only a few patrons talking and drinking at nearby tables, farmers and merchants from the look of them. Faolan took her by the arm, leading her to the bar.
The portly man behind the bar took a quick glance at the bedraggled couple. “Got caught out in the rain, did ye?” He laughed. “No matter, ye’ll dry quick enough in here. Drink?”
“We seek lodging for the night,” Faolan said, not elaborating further.
The man’s sharp gaze darted over them, taking in the cut of their clothing and manner, not missing the lethal sword Faolan wore at his side or the sgian dubh resting on Colleen’s hip. “I’ll be seeing yer coin,” he demanded. When Faolan tossed three gold coins onto the bar, the wide eyed barkeep scooped them up and stuck them in his pocket before anyone could blink. “Can’t be too careful these days. We’ve a fine room available and ready for ye and yer lady, milord. This be my place, name’s Ewan. And yers would be?”
“Sean,” Faolan said without batting an eye. He took Colleen by the hand and gave it a warning squeeze to be quiet. “Sean Connery.”
Ewan nodded, casting a glance over at Colleen, who was desperately hoping no one could see how close she was to breaking into hysterical laughter. “Fiona!” he called over his shoulder to a doorway behind him. “Come show Lord and Lady Connery to our finest room. ’Tis obvious yer lady is chilled through, milord. She’s trembling like a leaf, an’ ye don’t mind my saying.”
A stout woman came barreling out through the swinging doors, drying her hands on her apron and wearing a huge smile. “Good, more guests for the evening,” Fiona chortled happily. “And just look at the two of ye. Soaked to the bone, ye are. Let me show ye to yer room so ye can get out of those wet things ‘afore ye catch yer death.” The older woman fussed over them both like a mother hen and beckoned for them to follow her to the stairs.
Faolan cast a sideways glance at Colleen. “My lady would like a hot bath, if that be possible, mistress.”
“Aye, ‘tis,” Fiona nodded. “I’ll have the tub and water sent up at once.” She waved at the stable boy, just coming in. “Go find yer brothers and fetch some hot water and the tub fer the lady’s bath.” Without a word, the lad scampered off to do her bidding.
Colleen heaved a grateful sigh and followed behind Faolan as they climbed the narrow stairs behind the stout matron, their hands clasped. Once on the second floor, Fiona led them to the end of a dark hallway, selecting a key from the jingling ring carried on a long bit of ribbon looped around her neck. She pushed it into the lock and gave it a firm jiggle. “Sticks a bit,” she explained. “This is our best room. I do hope ye find it to be acceptable, milord.” She pushed the door open and waved them inside, dropping the key into Faolan’s open hand. “We’ll be serving the evening meal soon but if ye’d rather eat in yer room I can have it brought up for ye…” Fiona prattled on as she lit the fat candles and closed the wooden shutters, “…and we’ve the finest ale anywhere in Eire. We brew it ourselves.” She gave Colleen an appraising look and apparently approved of what she saw. “If milady would prefer wine to ale, we have that as well. Now if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll just go see what’s keeping those boys.”
After giving the couple a quick bob and curtsey she left the room, closing the door behind her. Faolan turned to Colleen and asked, “So what shall it be, my love? Dine in or take out?”
She burst into laughter at his modern terminology. “I’m not going to miss the chance to see a real medieval tavern,” she replied, hands fisted on her hips, “so my vote is to eat downstairs. If that’s okay with you, Mr. Connery,” she added with a teasing lilt in her voice.
“That’s fine with me, Blossom,” he chuckled “as long as I get to eat, I doona care where.”
A sudden knock on the door announced the arrival of the bathing tub. Two grinning youths carried the wooden monstrosity in, and several more children in varying sizes followed behind with large buckets full to the rim with steaming water. They dumped those into the tub, and with polite bows left the room.
Colleen stared at the tub as if it were an alien spacecraft, unsure exactly how one took a bath in a tub with no plumbing attached. After a moment, she raised confused eyes to Faolan, who gifted her with a warm, wonderful smile. “Would my lady require assistance with her bath?”
“Please,” she said, and when he held out his arms for her, she moved into them. Bit by bit, he began to peel the wet clothing from her skin. He removed each piece, kissing the area of skin it exposed, raising goose flesh wherever the cool air made contact. Or maybe it’s his kisses making me shiver, she thought, and brushed her lips across his brow.
When at last she stood naked, he led her over to the round tub and held her hand as she stepped into the hot water. “Mmm…” She sighed, sinking down to her shoulders, “It’s heavenly.”
Faolan smiled at her obvious delight and turning back toward the foot of the bed began rummaging through the saddlebags. He soon found what he was looking for and took his prize to Colleen. “Here,” he said, desire making his voice a little gruffer than he intended.
Colleen held out her hand and Faolan dropped the bar of perfumed soap in it. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Roses,” she smiled. “You remembered.”
He nodded. “That very first night, the scent of roses followed ye wherever ye walked past and I was so entranced I couldna help but follow wherever ye led. Allow me,” he said, kneeling next to the tub and taking the soap from her. He began at her shoulders, soaping the bare skin above the water. He washed her back and she sighed with contentment at his gentle touch. When his hand dipped below the water into the cloudy depths, she squealed in a delightful combination of shock, surprise and arousal. “I mean to be thorough, lady,” he informed her with a sly grin.
“And you’re succeeding as always,” she laughed with him and entwined her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her mouth. “And I love that about you.”
He forgot all about what he was doing and brushed his lips against hers in a seductive half kiss. “I dreamt of seeing ye like this,” he whispered, “and I wouldna believed it possible, but yer even more beautiful by candlelight.” He took her by the hand and helped her stand, wrapping her in the waiting towel. “If the tub was bigger, I’d be in there with ye, but I wouldna have bathing on my mind,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Oh!” Colleen gasped. “I’m so selfish. You’re still in your wet clothes.” She quickly began pulling his clothes off and when he was naked, she pushed him toward the tub. “Get in there before the water cools,” she ordered.
“But I…” Faolan protested, but when he saw the stubborn set of her jaw he shrugged and stepped in the tub. “Lass, if ye doona mind–”
“Sit,” she ordered, fishing around until she found the bar of soap. She began scrubbing at his chest while he watched her with an indulgent smile. “Lean forward,” she said and he flinched when she washed his back with what he thought was a bit more zeal than perhaps was necessary.
Faolan leaned back again and gave her a sheepish look. “Might I trouble ye for something out of the bag, lass?” Colleen sat back on her heels and raised her eyebrows in a questioning look. “There’s another bar of soap with scent more...” He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to the ceiling “…befitting a man. As much as I love the fragrance of roses on yer delicate skin, I doona think I fancy going downstairs to the common room smell
ing like a fine lady.”
* * * *
They emerged from their room an hour later, clean and dry. Holding hands as they descended the wooden stairs, it was obvious to all what they had been about. Colleen’s kiss swollen lips and dreamy eyes were a dead giveaway as was the satisfied smile on Faolan’s face.
The tavern was much busier now than when they first went upstairs, and a pretty young woman appeared as soon as they took a seat on the wooden bench at their table. Her eyes lingered appreciatively on Faolan before turning a cold glance to Colleen. “What can I bring ye, milord?” she asked sweetly, ignoring Colleen completely.
Colleen’s chin tilted up ever so slightly at the snub. She nudged him with her knee under the table. “You order,” she mouthed. With a nod, he requested wine and ale for them both, along with the evening offerings of fresh meat pies, bread, sweet butter and a thick barley soup. The serving girl took their order to the kitchen and returned within moments with their drinks.
She set tankard and cup down with a flirtatious smile then trailed her fingers lightly across the collar of his linen shirt as if she meant to pluck a piece of lint. “My name be Riann, milord, and if there’s aught I can do to make yer stay more… comfortable…ye have but to ask.” With a meaningful wink, she moved away to linger nearby, her hungry gaze never leaving Faolan.
“She’s hitting on you, the little…,” Colleen muttered something intelligible into her cup as she took a long gulp of the strong homemade wine, “and I doona like it a bit.”
Faolan bit his lip to keep from laughing at her jealous indignation. “I can put a stop to that,” he said, and without another word pulled Colleen into his lap and slanted his mouth over hers, possessive and fierce. When he let her go moments later, the serving girl was nowhere to be seen. “Ye canna blame her for looking, my sweet, but she’s far more interested in the color of my coin than in me.”
Colleen gasped in shocked, her eyes wide. “You mean she’s…? Good lord, she’s a real tavern wench.” Her question was answered moments later when Riann turned up at a nearby table of three men dressed in damp traveling clothes, obviously more refugees from the rain. One of the men’s hands crept out to caress the girl’s bottom when she leaned over their table and she gave him a playful swat, batting her eyes coyly. It came as no surprise when both Riann and the man disappeared hand in hand before much more time elapsed.
Fiona and two other serving girls were serving the evening meal to the crowded tables just as an elderly man, a young man and a small boy came in through the front door, bringing in a wet gust of wind with their arrival. Faolan glanced over at the newcomers and his attention was at once riveted by the odd group. The old man made his way to the long, polished bar aided by a long staff while the two youths waited by the door with their baggage. He spoke to Ewan and from all the gesturing it appeared they were arguing. Faolan eased Colleen back into the seat beside him and whispered, “Stay right here.”
He strode over to where the two men argued, listening intently. Without a word, Faolan pressed something into the hands of the owner, bowing his head respectfully to the old man before returning to his seat. When he waved for another tankard from the server and didn’t volunteer any information about what had just happened, Colleen tapped him on the arm impatiently. “What was that about?”
Just then Riann brought their dinner and the requested ale, balancing the wooden platters expertly on one arm. Leaning over to set them down on the table, she gave him a sultry wink and a blatant display of cleavage in the process. Colleen’s fists balled up and she stiffened in anger, but was stayed by Faolan’s calming hand on her thigh. “Now lass,” he crooned, “ye know I’ve eyes for no woman but ye.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And yer breasts are much nicer.”
Her anger melted away at his admission. He took a long drink of the honey colored ale and licked his lips like a satisfied cat, then grunted when she gave him a sharp elbow to his ribs. “Tell me what happened at the bar,” she demanded.
Faolan shrugged again and tried to look away, but she caught his chin and kept his gaze on her. He blew out a gusty breath in resignation. “They’re druids, lass,” he whispered, “and we are honor bound to help one another.” He reached for his ale and took another drink. “Even were they not, no one should be put out on a wet night such as this for lack of coin in their pockets, least of all a child.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Yer a kind man, Faolan MacIntyre. Do ye know how fine ye are to me?” she teased.
“Rob Roy,” he said with a fond smile. “Mary MacGregor had the right of it.” He paused then paraphrased the quote from the movie. “Although I love life itself, it is but a moon-cast shadow to the love I bear ye.” He captured her hand and brushed it against his cheek, pressing a kiss into her palm and folding her fingers around it.
Colleen colored at the heartfelt words and felt a hot tear of shame escape. “I’m so sorry I’ve been such a…so…” She sniffed, unable to complete the sentence.
Faolan brushed the corner of her eye with his thumb, smiled and changed the subject. “Yer in for a treat this eve,” he said. With a nod, he gestured at the threesome now seated by the fire and being served their dinner by Fiona. They fell upon their food, and by the ravenous way they ate, Colleen knew it had been a long time between meals for them.
She turned her interest back to her own meal. As before, Faolan fed her tasty morsel after morsel until she begged off, saying she was stuffed. Colleen then watched while he satisfied his own appetite, finishing everything left on the table. Riann, having given up on Faolan as a lost cause, moved on to her other tables in search of easier prey.
While the platters were being cleared, the young man reached into a large sack, pulling out a bulky object wrapped in a thick, protective cloth. Unwrapping his package, he revealed an ornate Celtic harp made of a dark polished wood and settled it on his lap with a confident air.
At a nod of approval from the old man, he began to play. The warm, rich sound of the strings filled the tavern, and one by one the crowd stopped talking and listened to the sweet notes filling the room. He played a slow ballad first, then picked out a lively tune and everyone began clapping in time with the music. One of the innkeeper’s sons produced a bodhran from behind the bar and used the skin covered drum to keep time. The old man pulled a whistle from his robe pocket and began to play along, adding another layer to the intricate melody. Laughing in delight, Fiona, Riann and the other serving girls lifted their skirts and spun around, their slippered feet beating out a tattoo on the rushes as they danced to the infectious rhythms.
The bard played and sang for hours, sweet romantic melodies and bawdy ditties that made the entire tavern raise their voices in song. Even Colleen was pulled into the dance by Fiona, and hopped gamely about trying to manage the intricate steps. The wine helped with her inhibitions and before long she was holding her own with the other women while the men clapped in time with the music.
When the song was over, Colleen fell laughing and breathless into Faolan’s lap. He tightened his arms about her waist and she leaned back against him, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Faolan,” she whispered, “for everything.”
* * * *
Colleen awoke just after dawn and opened bleary, reddened eyes to survey her surroundings. She groaned loudly, unable to believe she actually thought drinking homemade wine a fine idea the night before. Almost as if waiting for her to wake, Faolan handed her a cup that held what looked to be dirty water with wood shavings floating throughout. “Drink this,” he whispered.
Colleen did as she was told, grimacing when she swallowed the bitter brew. “If the hangover doesn’t kill me, this certainly will,” she moaned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and falling back against the fat feather pillow. “I danced last night, didn’t I?” Her cheeks flamed red with the memory. “Tell me I didn’t sing, too,” she begged, rolling over to bury her face.
Faolan chuckled. “Aye
, as beautiful and graceful as any muse. Ye fair enchanted everyone in the inn. I fear ye were flown with wine last eve.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the temple. “Go back to sleep, beloved. Ye’ll be right as rain when ye wake again.”
She smiled back and snuggled down in the warm feather bed next to him. “My big, braw Scot,” she whispered, and when he began singing softly to her, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a healing sleep.
* * * *
Around midmorning Colleen woke again, feeling like a new woman. She sat up and stretched, then turned her attention to her morning ablutions. “I don’t know what kind of medieval remedy you gave me, but it was a miracle. Nasty, but effective,” she remarked, washing her face in the basin of water and running the comb through her tangled hair.
“Willow bark. I believe in yer time, ye call it aspirin and it comes in tablets.” Still abed, Faolan rolled over to a reclining position to watch her dress. “And I suppose,” he added lightly, “ye doona remember dragging me up here and tearing the clothes from my body in yer haste to get me naked.”
Her gasp of horror only egged him on and he warmed to his subject much to her disconcertion. “And such a demanding wee thing ye turned into,” he laughed, his voice rising to a high, teasing pitch. “Touch me here, Faolan…and here…and kiss me here ‘afore I expire from wantin’ ye. And why is it yer makin’ me wait, Faolan?” His gaze turned serious when he added in his own voice, “I was in fear for my life, lady. Ye threatened to divest me of my manhood with my own sgian dubh did I not comply with yer demands.”
He fell back in a dramatic swoon. “It was hard work, Princess, but somehow I found the strength to rise to the occasion.” Laughing at his own risque wit, he never saw the pillow swing in a deadly arc straight for his head. He grabbed her around the waist and toppled her down on top of him before she could hit him again. With laughing eyes and insistent kisses, he issued a few demands of his own, with which she was more than delighted to comply.
Rogue on the Rollaway Page 20
