The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides) (29 page)

"We wish for a meal," he said, turning his attention to the woman. She canted her head at him and chuckled. The sound was low and strangely suggestive.

"And is that all?"

"My steed would benefit from a bit of barley and a stable."

She laughed. "Birney!" she screamed again and after a bit a man staggered out of the nearby side door, hitching up his hose as he did so. "M' lord needs his horse seen t'."

"So long as yer not on your back, why don't you do it?"

She turned her head and glared at the man. Perhaps at one time she had been pretty, but years and ale had changed that. "Just because you can't get it up, don't mean the rest of us don't want it sometimes."

Birney raised his hand as if to strike her, but Boden caught the arm before he had time to consider his actions.

The man's evil expression turned to one of anger.

"My horse," Boden said softly. "He needs grain." He dropped the man's arm. Birney stumbled back, sloppy drunk, his eyes shifting. "And a gentle word. You will treat him gently, won't you?"

Boden asked.

It took Birney a moment to realize it was a question, longer still to understand it was a threat.

"Aye. I... I will," he said and in a moment he was gone.

"Well, Leoma ain't never had me a champion," said the woman, pacing around-Boden to study him from another angle. " You might just get yours for free."

Boden ignored her words, falling back on the stiff, knightly formality he had learned at Knolltop. "We'd be willing to barter some venison for a meal," he said.

From near the fire, the large, dark-haired man said, "She weren't offering no meal. She was offering a good f—"

"Shut yer trap, Will," she said, then chuckled. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair tangled.

Dear God, this was no place for Sara, that was certain. But one glance at her eyes showed her fatigue. Surely twould be best to spend the night here, for he, too, felt the drain of the days past.

"So you want to trade venison for..." The woman called Leoma paused, eyeing him speculatively. "A meal?"

"Aye." He said. "And a bit of information."

"I can give you both." She glanced at Sara then twisted up one side of her face into what might have been a smile. "And more. 'Ave a seat."

Boden ushered Sara to a plank table as far from the trio of drinking men as possible. She had taken Thomas from his pouch, and the babe fussed now, whimpering and squawking at intervals.

"Is he well?" Boden kept his voice low when he spoke to her, for surely the less attention he drew to them the better.

"Just hungry, I think," she said, but there was worry in her eyes.

It had been so simple to distract her with his own needs, simple to know she would soon forget her own cares in exchange of another's. And the solution had been so sweet, with her head pillowed against his chest and her breathing soft and quiet against the beat of his heart.

But right now he couldn't afford to be distracted by that memory, or by his worry for her.

Perhaps they should have traveled on. Mayhap they should have taken more time to find an alternate way to feed the child. But he had no way of knowing how long a babe could last on a limited diet.

Leoma reappeared, carrying nothing but a bottle.

"The meal?" Boden inquired.

"You forever in such a rush?" she asked, bending close and leering at him. Her breath smelled foul, and her breasts, half freed from her failing bodice, nearly fell into his face.

"We are in something of a hurry," he said.

"A hurry, aye?" She straightened with a huff.

Thomas began crying.

"What's wrong with the brat?"

Sara looked up from the child. Boden could feel her increased tension and willed her not to speak. She may be unaware of her allure, but men, even dense, intoxicated men, would notice if she gave them any provocation.

"He's hungry." In the crude surroundings her voice seemed to ring with an unheard sweetness.

"He needs milk."

The woman reared back with a snort. "So give him a tit."

"We need some way to feed him," Boden said quickly, not allowing himself to glance at Sara, and thinking perhaps he should have let Birney slap the wench. "Might you know of a way?"

"You mean them little titties of hers don't even give milk?" Leoma laughed out loud, throwing back her head so that her fat breasts jiggled. "You'll not find that problem with mine," she said, changing gears quickly, and leaning forward again. "I've nursed a babe, I have. Pampered her proper —for all the good it did—"

"Do you know where we can find a milk bladder?" Boden asked. Please God, don't let him think of her raising a child.

She scowled at him, not happy about the interruption. "Years back there was a sickly woman."

She turned her gaze to Sara again, her expression derisive. "She couldn't feed no babe neither. Me, I offered to help her." She smiled, though the expression was evil. "But she was too good for the likes of me. The babe died." She laughed. "And I didn't shed no tears."

Boden felt Sara shiver beside him, and wished again that they had not come here.

"Where might we find the woman?" Boden asked.

"Tis not my task to—"

"I know where she is," said Birney, entering clumsily.

Boden shifted his gaze to him. "Where?"

"Hard to find," Birney said. "But I'll fetch her for you—for a shilling."

Everything in Boden made him want to slap the man up against the wall just for sport. But it probably wasn't honorable. "If she comes with a bladder, I'll give you half that."

"My time's worth more," Birney sputtered.

Boden stared at him in silence, then, "By morning you'll be sober," he said. "Think about it."

Birney narrowed his eyes, then glanced at Leoma and stumbled from the room.

Boden poured a tankard of whiskey and passed it to Sara as Leoma returned to the kitchen. Sara shook her head, but he nudged the drink toward her. ' 'Twill do you good," he said.

She glanced toward the trio of men by the fire. "It doesn't seem to be doing them ought but harm."

Twas true, of course. The burly threesome was getting more obnoxious by the moment. The balding man had thumped the straw-haired man on the chest, knocking him clear out of his chair. Will was laughing uproariously, but the smaller one didn't seem to think it so amusing.

"Drink," Boden repeated. "I doubt if one drink will change you into the likes of them."

She smiled, but worry was in her eyes. Still, she drank. And finally, when their meal arrived, they ate, though the food was dubious at best, making their night of venison seem like an elaborate banquet.

A short time later, Birney wobbled in, followed by a woman. She was slightly bent and very thin, the leanness of her condition evidenced in her face, her hands, the birdlike bones of her wrists.

"I found her," said Birney, tugging the woman forward and giving Boden a much-needed excuse to break from his meal.

The woman bobbed them a quick curtsy, her eyes too large in her gaunt face, her bony hand clutched about a small hide. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"What's your name, mistress?"

"Garnet, sir."

"We've a need for a milk bladder, Garnet," he said, coming right to the point.

She lifted the small hide slightly, looking nervous as her gaze skimmed to the babe in Sara's arms. "I've..." She swallowed nervously and glanced toward Birney who stood behind her. "I've no need of it any longer."

"I am sorry." Sara's words were very soft.

Finding kindness in this place seemed to startle the woman. She turned toward Sara. The echo of a smile shown in her eyes, and she nodded her thanks.

"Tis no need to mourn," she said. "M' youngest is long past the need for milk."

"Oh."

Boden could feel Sara's relief.

"I don't have a great deal to offer," he said. "But I'll give you half a deer in trade for it."

Garnet smiled. "Your lady will need the meat to keep up her strength."

His lady.'l
The words wore a sweet, painful path to his heart. He glanced at Sara, feeling the path burn deeper.

"We wish to give you the meat," he said.

Garnet bobbed her thanks. ' 'My babes will be grateful, and it will do m' heart good t' know the bladder is well used."

The decision made, Boden rose, and with a glance at Sara, stepped out to make the exchange.

Birney, he decided, would carry the meat for Garnet. Once outside, he found a chance to slip her a coin, not simply for the bladder she had given them, but for her kindness as well.

When he stepped back inside the inn, the tension emanating from Sara was palpable. The men!

he thought. But nay, they were still by the fire, and their attention was not directed toward Sara, but at a huddled scrap of a figure near the stairs. It was a child, thin and ragged.

"Ah, so there's little Princess Margaret," Leoma said. "Come on over 'ere, girl, so's the lady can see y'." Her voice was a strange croon.

The child shook her head. She had huge brown eyes that seemed to consume her face and a scar that sliced a diagonal path across her forehead.

Leoma's expression darkened. "Come over 'ere."

The girl cowered back.

Leoma gritted a smile at Sara, but her hands were clenched into fists when she turned back to the child. "What y' be doin' down 'ere?"

The tiny figure said nothing, only shifting her slight weight as if wishing to disappear into the floor.

"I asked what y' want!"

As the woman walked toward the child, the girl backed away, then bumped into the wall where she stood frozen for a moment before opening a palm and showing a crust of dark bread.

"Ahh." Leoma chuckled. "So y' want something to eat. And what for? That rat of yours?"

The child shook her head wildly.

"Y' know I don't like it when y' lie t' me!" Leoma said and snatched the child's arm. "Y' wanted ta be down 'ere so ya might as well come on out in the open," she ordered, dragging the child forward.

"So, Leoma, who's this?" asked the one called Will.

"This..." said the woman, pinching the girl's arm in a clawlike grasp. "This is my daughter. The princess," she said, but the word sounded ugly. "Birney's brat! Ain't that right Birn?"

The man snorted as he shambled past.

"Yours?'' asked the blond man as he shifted his gaze swiftly from the mother to his friends.

"Didn't know whores could 'ave children." He laughed rather like an ass with his tail caught in a door.

"Guess she ain't filled out so good like her mother," said the other man.

Leoma snorted and sneered a smile toward the speaker. "Y've always 'ad an eye for the women, 'aven't y', Danny," she said and shook the girl. "Aye, she's a skinny thing she is, and y' know why? She takes the food I sweat t' earn and she feeds it t' the rats! Ain't that right, girl?"

The child didn't answer, but scrunched away to the far end of her mother's reach.

"Ain't that right?" gritted Leoma, shaking her, but in that instant a furry something streaked out of the girl's sleeve and onto the mother's arm.

Leoma shrieked like one insane, shaking madly to rid herself of the vermin.

Panicked, the brown creature dropped to the floor and streaked beneath the men's table.

A hiss of pure horror escaped from the girl. A wild fear lit her eyes and she lunged after the animal. In a second, her hand was on it and it had disappeared inside her ragged clothing again, but just as quickly the smallest of the men had grabbed her by the arm.

He pulled her from under the table. "'Ello girlie."

She leaned away like a cornered colt, all eyes and tangled hair.

"She's a witch!" Leoma shrieked, her face twisted. "A witch! Taking in vermin and doin' all manner of nasty things with 'em."

"Nasty things, huh?" chuckled Will. "I can think of a few nasty things myself."

Danny snorted, seeming to read his companion's mind. "The girl don't even have no titties yet."

"Nay," said Will. "But she will and till then... we can learn 'er some things. Sides, Lang likes 'er, don't y' Lang?"

The smallest man bobbed a quick nod and licked his lips. Will turned his gaze to Leoma. "Want me t' take 'er off your 'ands?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "What would ya want 'er for?"

Will chuckled. Lang grinned, his eyes bright.

"Could be we'll think of something," Will said.

Leoma scowled. Boden could almost see the ragged thoughts lumbering through her mind. "Y'

don't think you're gonna get her for nothing do y'?" she asked.

"Y' said yourself she's a skinny thing."

"Aye." Leoma set her hands on her hips and pushed out her generous chest. "But she'll grow."

Will chuckled. "If she lives so long. How much do y' want for 'er?"

"A sovereign."

"Yer daft," Will said. "I'll give y' a half angel."

Leoma laughed. "You'd be lucky if'n y' 'ad a farthing."

Will reached into a pouch. The girl jumped at the motion, but Lang held her tight and chuckled at her fear. Then, Will pulled out a gold piece and tossed it to Leoma. She caught it in one hand, then raised her brows at her good fortune.

"Nay!" Sara lurched to her feet. The lump in Boden's stomach turned over. "Nay," she said more softly. "Ye cannot sell her."

Leoma turned slowly toward her, her eyes deadly flat, her mouth sneering. "And why is that, mother earth?"

Sweat popped out on Boden's brow. His leg ached, and he'd be lucky to get the three of them out of this hellhole alive. "Sara." He kept his voice low and level. "Think of Thomas."

At some point, she had strapped the babe to her back. She stood now, her face pale as lily petals, her eyes as wide as the heavens. "I am," she said.

"I'm wounded," he reminded her, and cautiously shifted his attention to the three men.

Silence filled the place, and then she turned toward him. He could feel her gaze smite him, but refused to look up, refused to be drawn in by the weight of her emotions.

"Come 'ere, girl," growled Will.

"Please!" Sara's whisper filled Boden's head. In his mind he could see her eyes, wide and blue as God's heavens.