"Can you wait till me wife returns, Ronald? I'll be able t' help you with the tables then." "Aye," Ronald said, nodding at the same time. Kolyn knew he had wanted to start back as quickly as possible. "I'll see to your customers, Mr. McNeil," she said. Two more men walked in just as she made her offer. "Have you ever done this kind of work before, lass?" the innkeeper asked, his look doubtful.
"No," Kolyn replied honestly. "But I did have three brothers to wait upon. And it's only for a minute or two while you unload the wagon." Mr. McNeil handed a full pitcher of ale to her. "See t' the men who just came in, then refill any who need it." She took the pitcher in her right hand, grabbing a couple of mugs with her left. She felt a small twinge of pain in her shoulder, but she paid it no mind. Carefully, she moved through the crowded room. Talking hushed as she passed each table. She reached the table by the fire and placed the mugs before the two men. Then she began pouring their drinks.
Kolyn avoided meeting their gazes, and purposely ignored the comments that she heard. "Thank you, lass."
The voice was soft, familiar, and she brought her eyes up to look at the man who spoke. Then she froze, spilling the ale upon the table as the mug filled. Horrified, she pulled back. "'Tis nothing," Ian assured the girl, the look on her face telling him of her discomfort. "Bring a rag, and we'll wipe it up. No harm done."
She just stood, staring. "You've frightened her," Geoffrey said with a laugh. She shifted her gaze to look at him. "See, she's gone all white in the face." "Surely not." Ian smiled. "What's your name?" She said nothing.
Geoffrey was enjoying this. "Good God, Ian. You've struck her dumb too." "Lynn," she finally replied.
"I've not seen you before, Lynn. Where are you from?" Ian watched the young woman place the pitcher down on the table, the look in her eyes now thoughtful. She seemed to be considering what to say. She came with me," Ronald said, stepping into the inn, holding the end of a table. "Lynn's stayin' with Jean an' me for a while."
Ian's intense gaze moved back to Kolyn. She was certain there was no recognition in his eyes. He had no idea he had seen her before, no idea who she was. This made her feel powerful, with danger no longer an immediate concern. She smiled. She saw a definite reaction, a reaction that surprised her. Suddenly, her brother's words came to her, haunting her with their meaning. " . . . you, dear sister, are too beautiful for any man to resist."
Kolyn had never thought herself beautiful, feeling only the harshness of her life reflected in herself. Yet when she looked around, it was obvious, so obvious even she could not deny the effect she had upon these men, and upon one man in particular. "McNeil," Ian called out to the innkeeper, who had followed Ronald into the room, his breathing strained from exertion as he carried his end of the heavy table.
"Aye, Lord Blackstone," he replied, wiping the sweat from his face with his hand, which he wiped on his apron.
"You should have Lynn help you out here in the tavern. You're always bellyaching about your help. Or lack of it." Ian laughed, then tossed her a coin. "She'd be a welcome change." Many agreed, their own encouragement added to Ian Blackstone's. "Perhaps she does not want t' work. I've little enough t' pay much more than room an' board."
Ian looked directly at Kolyn, and her heart stopped. "I'd wager she'll make a good wage with tips," he said.
This prompted her to look at the coin she had caught. It was much more than she deserved. She walked over to where Ronald stood. "You are welcome t' stay as long as you need with us, Lynn. Jean has enjoyed your company well enough." "I know I am welcome in your house, but with another child coming soon, you don't need the extra burden, Ronald." Kolyn gave him a quick hug and slipped the coin into his hand. "For the dress Jean lent me."
The plan formed so fast, she had little time to contemplate the danger. Her mind buzzed from the excitement, and fear danced inside her. She thought of Andrew, how much she had missed him these past few weeks as she recovered from her wound. How could she bear to stay away longer? Kolyn focused on one thingshe would be near the Black Wolf. She could end the feud and give her son a life free of hatred and killing.
"I would like to work here, Mr. McNeil, if you will have me." Mr. McNeil didn't look like he had the courage to deny her, so he just nodded. "Get on with your work then, lass. These men are dyin' of thirst." Ian leaned back against the stone wall, feeling rather pleased with himself. He watched Lynn closely as she filled the tankards, carefully avoiding the wayward hands and pinching fingers. She was beautiful, with snapping green eyes and flaming red hair. But there was something else, something he couldn't quite figure out, that made him curious, more curious than he ought to be and more curious than he had been about a woman in a very long time.
"I was beginnin' to fear that Blair had killed the man in you, my friend." Geoffrey's words brought Ian's attention back. Geoffrey was not put off as Ian's eyes darkened dangerously. "If I'd known a redhead would bring you back to life, I'd have found you one long ago." this made Ian chuckle. "'Tis not the red hair, though it is the prettiest I've ever seen. 'Tis the look in her eyes, Geoff. I'd almost think it was anger."
"Aye, but you'd best be prepared, Ian. 'Tis a look that says no. She's been here only a few minutes and I can see she'll not be warmin' your bed." "'Tis not my bed needs warming," Ian said softly. "'Tis my heart." When the innkeeper's wife returned, she took Kolyn to the attic where she would sleep. Mrs. McNeil merely pointed up the ladder, not wishing to climb it. Kolyn thought that was best, considering her portly girth.
"Thank you, Mrs. McNeil. I'll be fine." "Call me Molly, girl. Come on down t' help serve supper. Then you and Leslie can tend t' the tavern."
Kolyn nodded. The main stairwell led to the rooms on the upper floor where travelers stayed, and the small ladder she climbed was the only way up into the attic. She looked about her. It was dark and drafty, two straw mattresses upon the floor and a single, shuttered window at the end looking out over the stables. Two small trunks, a wash stand, and a single chair were the only other furnishings.
A low moan sounded from one of the mattresses, the crumpled blanket upon it moving. Slowly, a woman sat up, her eyes finally settling on Kolyn. "Who are you?" "I am Lynn. You must be Leslie." Kolyn remembered the comments made earlier in the tavern. "Why are you here, Lynn?"
Her words were short and rude, but that did not annoy Kolyn. She had had much practice with Emmett's continuous sarcasm. "I will be helping you out in the inn."
Leslie considered this before she spoke. Narrowed and wary, her pale blue eyes appraised Kolyn. "I didn't know I be needin' your help." Kolyn cleared her throat and then plunged on. "I understand you work very late. I'll be helping Molly out more during the day."
"You'll be gettin' up t' help with breakfast?" This seemed to appeal to Leslie.
"Yes. That way you can sleep." Kolyn was aware of what Leslie did with her night hours, but it didn't matter much to her. She wanted only to get along with the girl so she could concentrate on her other plans. She didn't want trouble from Leslie.
Leslie pulled herself up off the mattress and ran her fingers through her blond hair, somewhat combing it before pulling it back and braiding it. "Well, I cannot fault you for wantin' t' work, Lynn. But if I find you are takin' me night work too, I'll bust that pretty little nose of yours."
Kolyn took in the information impassively. "The night work is all yours. I promise." Leslie looked Kolyn square in the eyes. "I can see you've never been hungry. Believe me, my pretty, when hunger's gnawin' at the back of your belly, your morals no longer carry any meanin'. You could make a lot of money with your looks."
"You are right, Leslie. I've never been hungry. But there are offenses worse than what you do." Kolyn thought about her oath to kill Blackstone. "Believe me, my sins are greater than yours." Leslie smiled, then offered her hand in friendship. "Then we understand each other." Kolyn shook Leslie's hand. "Completely."
"Leslie, are you sharin' all your secrets with Lynn?"
Kolyn couldn't help but smile as
Leslie approached the man who spoke, a definite swagger to her hips as she planted her hands on them and looked quite confident of herself. "There are some secrets a girl's got t' be keepin' t' herself. I'll teach her how to wait on you slobs, but I'll not be teachin' her how t' bed you slobs. 'Tis me secret alone, and no other's."
Kolyn no longer blushed at the conversation. She laughed along with everyone else. As brash and bold as Leslie was, Kolyn liked her. She was a survivor. By the time Kolyn had cleared all the tables and scrubbed the tankards, she was nearly exhausted. Her shoulder ached and she felt exertion throughout her body. Morning would come too soon, so she wasted no time in climbing to the attic and her bed.
She welcomed the tiredness for it helped her sleep without dwelling on the loneliness that consumed her. She missed Andrew terribly, and hoped the second message she had sent by way of a traveling peddler would reach
Father McCloud. Certain he would explain her absence to Drew, Kolyn made her plans. Intentionally, she did not send word to Dwight or Emmett. If her plans failed there would be no need of explanation. Reprisals for her failure could be much worse than their anger at her disappearance.
It was near dawn before Leslie made it to her own mattress. Kolyn merely turned over and went back to sleep. It wasn't long before Molly called her and Kolyn made her way downstairs to start another day.
Chapter Eight
Kolyn dipped the brush into the bucket and sloshed more soapy water onto the floor, then started to scrub once again. The floor seemed endless, but her mind wasn't on it. She dwelled instead on Ian Blackstone. Not once in the last week had she seen him alone. His men were always nearby. Each night he came to the tavern, each night he watched her, each night he left with Geoffrey at his side. She longed to go home to Andrew, but was determined to see this out to an end. Kolyn sat up and rubbed the ache in her back.
"What a pretty picture you make." Startled, Kolyn twisted about to see who spoke and found herself staring straight into dark eyes, as gold as any she had ever seen. A shiver touched her despite the heat of her labor. She pushed back the stray strands of hair that clung to her face and started to stand.
''Please." Ian stepped forward and offered his hand. "Allow me."
She hesitated before accepting his help. Not realizing how long she had knelt on the floor, she stumbled, her legs numb. Ian steadied her, his strength keeping her from falling. "Thank you," she mumbled, unnerved by his touch.
When she tried to pull her hand away from his, he didn't let go. Instead he reached for the other. "Your hands are raw from work," Ian said softly, turning them over to examine her palms. Kolyn managed to free herself from his grip. "It's nothing to trouble yourself with, Lord Blackstone."
"Oh, but I do."
These simple words made Kolyn's heart race, and she found it difficult to breathe. She admitted he frightened her, but the feeling he was causing at that moment was not fear or anger. How could such a giant of a man sound so gentle? He had killed her brothers and father, yet he showed concern that her hands were chapped and split. Was this how the devil worked? To charm and disarm?
"Come here, Lynn."
Again, he startled her, having moved to the doorway without her hearing. She whispered a short prayer before following him into the kitchen. Ian looked about, then searched the cupboard before turning his attention back to her. "Come over here," he repeated. When she didn't move, he laughed, though with a touch of sadness. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
Did it disappoint him that she was afraid of him? Or was she more afraid of herself, of the feelings he seemed to arouse at will? Mystified by the man, she moved to stand beside him. He took her hand into his, then carefully rubbed some lard into the sores. It soothed the dryness and softened the skin. He did the same for the other hand. Then he wiped away the excess grease with a rag. Kolyn knew she should move away, but she couldn't.
Ian watched the play of emotions across Lynn's lovely face and wondered what went on inside her pretty little head. He knew she was afraid of him. Why shouldn't she be? He was well aware of the legend, the curse he supposedly carried. He had even encouraged the fierce reputation that men feared. Now, as he looked down at Lynn, he regretted it. He didn't want to see fear in her forest-green eyes, he wanted to see . . .
What exactly did he want to see? He didn't know this wisp of a lass. He didn't even know where she came from or her family name. Ian knew nothing except that she made him feel alive, something he hadn't felt inside himself in a very long time. A warmth touched him, melting the ice inside him. Lynn aroused his desire. What man wouldn't desire her? But more, she made him feel emotions he thought dead.
He leaned down, wanting to feel her lips against his. He paused, wondering at the madness that seemed to claim him, looking deep into her eyes. Her mouth was parted, her breathing shallow. The moment went on forever.
Lynn turned away and mumbled, "Thank you for your kindness, sir."
"Lynn," Ian called to her, frustration so fierce inside him he could not hide it. "Don't run away from me."
Kolyn stopped and looked back. The look on his face struck her hard, causing her to wonder at the power he had over her. "I have work to do." She left him standing in the kitchen.
"He's not had a woman in years." Kolyn looked up from the chicken she plucked and stared at Leslie. "Who hasn't?" Leslie's eyes rounded in exasperation. "You know who, Lord Blackstone." "How do you know that, Leslie?" She didn't know if she really wanted to learn so much about the man, but found herself asking anyway.
"Ever since his wife died, he's taken no woman t' his bed." She lifted her brows in a knowing way. "He found her with another man an' they say he's never trusted a woman since. I never heard of a man bein' so . . . so . . ."
"Chaste?" Kolyn found the word for her. "Yeah." Leslie grinned wide. "'Ceptin' a holy man or such."
Kolyn looked down, hiding her face and smile from Leslie. "Is that so?" Leslie punched her on the shoulder playfully. "Come now, I know you're curious. He's been watchin' you with that look in his eyes. I was beginnin' t' think he was a bit odd." Again she lifted her eyebrows and rounded her eyes. "If you know what I am talkin' about."
Embarrassment warmed Kolyn's face. "He has not been watching me, and I think we should talk about something else."
Molly appeared from the kitchen, her face showing she had been listening to their chatter. Nothing was more enjoyable to the woman than a good round of gossip. "Leslie's right, Lass. I'd say Lord Blackstone has designs on you." Leslie's and Molly's laughter was friendly, and Kolyn couldn't help but laugh in turn. "I don't care, I tell you!"
"Go on," Leslie chided. "He's the handsomest man I ever saw, and you're pretendin' t' not care? You can't fool me, Lynn." The warmth on Kolyn's face increased. "He's very handsome. I'll give you that." "Then what's stoppin' you, girl?" Leslie's question made Kolyn wonder what was holding her back. Her plan was to get him to bed, yet she ran away each time he made an advance in that direction. Kolyn realized Molly and Leslie were waiting for her answer, their faces animated with anticipation. "I don't know if it's what I want."
It was the truth either way, an answer to their question as well as her own.
Leslie squealed, her eyes round with wonder. "Lord, Molly, she's a virgin!" Kolyn felt the warmth increase, creeping up her neck and over her face. "Oh, dear me," Molly muttered, her own amazement clear. "'Tis a wonder, lass, that with your looks no man has taken you t' his bed." Again Leslie's laughter filled the room. "Where have you been, Lynn? A nunnery?"
The laughter was contagious and Kolyn couldn't help but giggle, thinking their conversation unlike any she had ever had before. "'Tis nothing to laugh about, Leslie." Kolyn tried to look serious but failed. Leslie just laughed harder. A deep sigh came from Molly, her gaze turned wistful. "Oh, t' be so young and beautiful." She brushed a pudgy finger over Kolyn's hot cheek. "Oh, t' have Lord Blackstone as my first lover."
Leslie sobered as well. "Aye." Then she shook it off with a giggle. "We'd be
st be teachin' this lass a thing or two, Molly. We wouldn't want the man t' be disappointed in our girl." Kolyn looked from one woman to the other. They were quite serious and she knew it would do no good to argue with them.
"Lordy," was all she managed to say.
The vendors barked their wares, drawing attention to each stall or cart. Ian walked beside his mother patiently, giving her the pleasure of moving at her leisure. Every once in a while she stopped and examined a small item or two. "You seem to spend a lot of your time of late at The Raven. Is there any particular reason, or have you developed a taste for drink, Ian?"
Ian grinned, trying to waylay her serious look. "I've always had a taste for drink, Mother. Not any more now than before." She didn't seem satisfied. "Could there be a lass then?"
Ian knew she had already spoken with Geoffrey, and between the two of them they knew more about what was happening with him than he did himself. At least they liked to think so. "And if there is?" Ainsley tried to look surprised, but she wasn't very good at it. "So, there is a woman? A tavern girl?" "Would it bother you if she were a tavern girl?"
"I . . ." Ainsley was taken off guard by his question. "I don't believe so. I merely want what makes you happy."
They were silent for a moment, then Ian spoke. "I don't know what will make me happy. Perhaps it is something I will never know. But this woman sparks interest in me. More so than any other woman has in many years. For now, that is enough." "Then it shall be enough for me also." Ainsley smiled and patted her son on the arm.
The Black Wolf Page 7