by Lori Dillon
They made their way to the stairs where a young boy about Owen's age waited with a rushlight to lead customers down the dark hallways to their rooms. What do you know? A medieval bellhop.
She eyed the extreme vertical slant of the steps, more a ladder than a staircase. The boy went first, then Jill, with Baelin following discreetly behind her. About half way up, she glanced back to see he was keeping his eyes on the narrow steps and not attempting to look up her skirt like most men would have done if they were in his position.
Always the chivalrous knight to the very end.
They reached the second floor and made their way down a narrow hallway, the single light the boy carried doing little to dispel the shadows. Entering a dark room at the end of the hall, light flared as the boy lit a candle on the bedside table.
Jill was surprised when Baelin motioned for her to wait and entered the room before her. What happened to ladies first? Wasn't that part of chivalry? Jill followed, the meager flame of the candle casting a pool of light across the floor of the small room.
Whatever she'd been expecting, she was disappointed. The Ritz Carlton it was not. The room was tiny and cramped. The narrow bed, tucked under one of the eaves, looked more like a cot. She doubted even Owen could stand straight without bumping his head on the slanted ceiling.
Baelin tossed the lad a coin and he scurried out the door, leaving them alone in the tiny box of a room. Since the kiss two nights ago, they hadn't had one moment alone without either Roderick or Owen nearby. The awkward we've-shared-a-kiss-now-what-do-we-do situation had been easy to ignore. But without the medieval bellhop to act as pseudo-chaperone, the room felt too close, too confined, too intimate.
A look passed over Baelin's face as if he felt it too, and he busied himself with searching the shadows in the eaves and behind the door.
"What are you looking for?"
"One never knows what dangers lurk in unfamiliar places."
"Oh. Aren't you going to check under the bed for the boogie man, too?"
His brow creased in confusion as yet another modern anachronism flew right over his head. Even so, he knelt to peer under the bed. Apparently satisfied the room was intruder-free, he rose and walked to the door.
"Bolt the door. Open it for no one but me."
"I'm a big girl, Baelin. I'll be fine."
He regarded her for a long, pulse-quickening moment. What was he thinking?
"Aye, you are brave, my lady. But you are no match against a man bent on lascivious intent. More than one has been known to drink too much at an inn and confuse one room for another. Do not make the mistake of opening the door for anyone but me."
Jill couldn't resist. "Not even for Sir Roderick?" she said innocently.
Baelin growled. "Especially not Sir Roderick."
She laughed. Guess their newfound friendship only went so far. "I'm just kidding. I'm going to bed and don't intend to crawl out of it until morning. You go baby-sit Casanova before he gets himself in trouble."
"I will not over long. My room is next to yours. Tap on the wall should you need anything during the night."
"Why, Sir Baelin, is that an invitation?" She made a tsking sound. "And here you were warning me about wandering drunken strangers when it sounds like I should be wary of your intentions. Shame on you."
His shocked expression was almost comical, somewhere between insulted and embarrassed at having his words misconstrued.
She shoved him out into the hallway. "Relax. I know my virtue is quite safe in your hands."
Grinning, she closed the door in his bewildered face, shaking her head at his overprotective nature as she bolted the door.
Her smile faded with the sound of Baelin's retreating footsteps down the hall. What had come over her? Had she actually been flirting? And what had she expected in return, a goodnight kiss?
With a jolt in her belly, she realized she had. But she didn't want to care about him. And she didn't want him to care about her. Encouraging whatever had begun between them was not a good idea. No matter how this ended, one of them was going to get hurt.
Deciding not to examine that train of thought too closely, she turned and surveyed her small room. She tossed her cloak and satchel on the lone chair before making a small circle of the space. It didn't take long since it was the size of a closet. She opened the wooden shutter and glanced out the tiny glassless window, but couldn't see much. From the sounds and smells below, she figured her room overlooked the stables where Owen was bedded down for the night.
Jill tugged off her outer gown and kicked off her shoes, eager to sink under the covers. But when she pulled the blanket back off the bed, she recoiled in disgust. The sheets were dirty and stained, and little black dots littered the yellowed pillow.
Looks like maid service has been slacking. I'll have to complain to the manager about this. Had she really expected crisp white sheets and a chocolate on her plump feather pillow? If so, she was out of luck.
Then one of the black dots moved. She grabbed the candle and held it closer. To her horror, all the black dots were moving—and they had legs!
She shuddered. Oh, my God. Please tell me those aren't lice. Or were they bed bugs? She didn't know and didn't want to find out. Both gave her the willies.
She flipped the cover back further and found more traveling black dots on the mattress.
Oh, well this is just perfect. I can't win for losing can I? And she'd been so looking forward to sleeping in a soft feather bed. Well, she wouldn't get in this one if her life depended on it.
She grabbed her cloak and balled up her gown to use as a pillow, making a pallet on the floor. Cursing the sick games life seemed to be playing on her, Jill tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot.
Right now she envied Owen, because sleeping in the barn with the horses didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.
The Goose Egg Inn was a large tavern for this remote area. Its location midway between Allerdale and Lancaster made it a popular stopping place on the way to the market fairs in the larger towns. But the inn was not so full that each of them could not have their own room for the night. After leaving Lady Jill, Baelin had almost considered taking to his own.
But he was too restless. So too, it would appear, was Kendale, who had his hands full with the ample charms of the barmaid in his lap.
As Baelin slid onto the bench, the knight whispered in the woman's ear before sending her on her way with a gentle slap to her backside.
"Did I interrupt something?"
"Nay. Merely making arrangements for a wee bit of company later."
Baelin shook his head. The man was a shameless, skirt-chasing dog. If he couldn't sweet-talk Lady Jill into his bed, the closest dalliance at hand apparently would do.
Kendale shoved a fresh mug of ale in his direction. "Drink. The night is still young."
Baelin cupped the mug, but left it on the table.
"I trust the Lady Jill is safely tucked away in her bed?"
"That she is. Quite safe and quite alone."
Kendale eyed him, appearing more sober than he'd been only moments before. "You care for her a great deal, do you not?"
Baelin thought about the all too brief kiss she'd bestowed on him the night before and of the way she'd shamelessly teased him only moments ago. The memory twisted something within him, causing an ache deep down inside. Would she welcome him in if he came knocking at her door?
Nay, he could not dream of such a thing. Not while he was still what he was.
"Aye, that I do."
"I believe she cares for you, too."
Baelin shook his head. "She does not want me."
"Well, 'tis certainly not me she wants. As you have so joyously observed, she has spurned my every effort to win her favor. If I did not have the fair Alice to soothe my wounded pride this lonely night, I would be sore in doubt of my skill with the fairer sex."
Baelin laughed. "If Alice's smile is anything to go by, you are not at risk of losing your
touch with the ladies in the near future."
Kendale tipped his ale. "Aye, here's to a good bit of touching soon to come." He set his half-empty mug of ale on the table and wagged his finger at Baelin. "Nay, I see the way Lady Jill watches you, most times when you are unawares. She may not even realize it herself, but I have been around enough women to know when one desires a man."
Baelin chuckled. "I imagine you have." His smile slid from his face. "But you are wrong. Lady Jill may need me, but she does not desire me."
"I beg to differ, my friend. I saw the kiss she gave you the other night."
"'Twas but an innocent peck, nothing more."
Kendale looked doubtful. "If you say so. But then again, you know the lady's heart better than I do."
He could argue with the knight on that point. There were times when he wasn't sure he knew Lady Jill's heart at all. But it didn't matter. Even if she would accept it, he had no human heart to give her.
He gazed out the open window near their table. The moon hung low in the sky, three-quarters full, a mocking reminder of what little time he had left. Six and twenty days come and gone, and only one of the challenges met. Time was running short, and for the first time since he saw Lady Jill's face woven in the tapestry, he feared they would fail in the end.
He looked at the man seated across from him. Kendale was a flirt and a rogue. But he was also a knight, a skilled swordsman who would fight to the death to defend those he was sworn to protect. That, and the pressing sense of time slipping through his fingers, forced Baelin to ask the question he did not want to ask.
"Kendale, I have a request to ask of you."
"Ask, and if it is within my power, 'tis granted."
"Lady Jill, she is adrift in this world. She has no family left to her." By all rights, her family had not yet been born. "If something should happen to me, she will be alone and unprotected. I know we did not get on well in the beginning, but I ask you as one knight to another, would you give Lady Jill your protection if I am no longer able?"
Kendale sat stunned, as if he couldn't believe what Baelin was asking. Then he reached across the table and clasped Baelin's hand with his own. "I would be honored, my friend. But let us hope it never comes to that."
"Aye, let us hope so."
But as Baelin watched the gibbous moon glide behind silver-edged clouds, he couldn't help but think it was a promise Kendale would have to honor all too soon.
CHAPTER 23
The inn rested in quiet slumber as traveler and servant alike settled in for the night. It was past midnight, but Baelin was still awake and on edge.
It was so strange, after living for two centuries in a cave, to be spending the night with walls surrounding him and a roof over his head. He ran his hand over the rolled tapestry, a constant reminder of where he came from, and where he would have to return if the curse was not broken.
He glanced out the small window, but he couldn't see anything. Not that he was looking.
He was listening.
Listening for the soft sounds of the woman sleeping in the room next to him.
He strained to perceive the slightest noise. If he pressed his ear against the wall, he could barely hear her breathing. He didn't understand it. He should be able to hear her more clearly, with the bed pressed up against the wall as he remembered. She sounded as if she was farther away. But room wasn't that big. How far could she go?
Baelin cursed. He was so used to having her close, often within arm's reach, that he could barely stand having a wall separating them, thin though it was.
He glanced at the meager furnishings in his room. At least she was comfortable. He'd been able to provide her something she longed for—a bed for the night. It was a small price to pay for her happiness.
So intent on listening for sounds from the next room, he almost didn't notice the smell. But once he did, it grew so acute he could not ignore it.
Smoke.
But not that which crept its way up from cooking fires of the common room below. He sniffed at the air, using his dragon sense to pinpoint what it was. And then he knew.
Straw. Burning thatch.
The inn was on fire.
He flung open his door and found the dark hallway filled with smoke. He shoved the tapestry into his belt and ran to Lady Jill's door, hammering on it with his fist.
"Lady Jill! Awake!"
He prepared to break the door down when he heard shuffling in the room and it swung open. Lady Jill stood in her thin smock, squinting at him from the haze of interrupted sleep.
"What?" She started coughing as the smoke poured in around her.
"The inn is ablaze. We must get out."
"Oh, my God!"
She did not hesitate, but followed him out into the hallway. As they made their way down the smoke-filled corridor, they pounded on every door they passed to rouse the people inside.
Kendale emerged from his room, instantly alert. The knight was strapping on his sword as the barmaid followed him out, the blanket from the bed wrapped loosely around her bare shoulders.
People emerged from their rooms, sleepy and bewildered. But as soon as they saw the smoke, terror set in.
Lady Jill dropped to her hands and knees in the hallway and began to crawl toward the stairs. "Get down! Everybody get down. The air is better down here."
Everyone stared at her as if she was a mad woman.
She grabbed a young girl by the hand and jerked her to the ground. "Keep your heads down low. The smoke will kill you before the fire does if you don't."
The smoke did not bother Baelin. In fact, his dragon lungs relished in it. But he could see the wisdom in what Lady Jill was trying to get the people to do and he aided her by pushing them to their knees. Like lumbering bears, they crawled down the hallway to the stairs leading to the common room below. As they jammed around the opening in the floor, black smoke billowed out of the opening where the steps led down.
There would be no escape this way.
Baelin retreated down the hallway to Lady Jill's chamber, the door still ajar from when she fled the room. He ran to the far end and threw open the shutter. Situated on the second story, they would have to jump if they wanted to live. Baelin knew he could make the leap without injury. But what of the others? What of Lady Jill?
She and Kendale squeezed beside him to look out the tiny window, so narrow only a child could fit through it.
"Can you jump from here?" Baelin asked her.
She looked out. "It's pretty high. I don't know if I can do it without breaking something. But personally, I'll take a broken leg over burning alive any day."
Baelin turned and found himself surrounded by the terrified faces of the people who'd followed them into the room, their frightened eyes begging him to help them. To save them.
"There may be no other way."
"Look there." Kendale pointed to a wagon filled with hay next to the stables. "If we can push it beneath the window, the people may be able to jump into it to cushion their fall."
Baelin glanced at the knight, impressed with the man's quick thinking. "It may just work. But first we must widen this opening, or we may not live long enough to see."
He kicked at the wall by the window, sending shards of wattle and daub flying. Kendale joined him, hammering at the plaster with the hilt of his sword. When the opening was large enough for a man to fit through, Baelin perched the jagged hole. "I will go first and move the wagon under the window. Kendale, you help the others out when I'm ready."
"Aye."
He looked to Lady Jill. "Follow after me, once I am ready below."
She nodded, her wide eyes trying to hold the panic at bay.
Baelin jumped, holding his cloak out wide to shield the wings beneath as he glided to the ground. He could not risk anyone below or above seeing him fly. There were too many lives at stake.
He ran across the inn yard to the barn. There was no time to hitch oxen to the wagon. He grabbed the shaft and pulled with all his strength
, his arms and back straining with the effort. At first, it barely moved, the wheels mired in deep, muddy furrows. Then others who'd already made it out joined him and they started rocking it, back and forth. Finally, the wheels edged out of the ruts. They pulled and shoved the wagon beneath the window. He prayed it hadn't taken too long.
Kendale dropped a young girl out of the window first. Squealing and flailing, she landed with a plop in the hay. Baelin grabbed the child by her tiny waist and practically tossed her to the man behind him. There was no time to be gentle. They had to get the people out as quickly as possible or they would all die.
Like ants tumbling out of a disturbed mound, one person after another emerged from the dark hole, hesitating only briefly before they jumped or Kendale shoved them out to land in the hay wagon. Baelin kept an eye on the fire as it consumed the dry thatch of the roof, edging closer and closer to the room.
Where was Lady Jill? Why was she not coming out?
But he knew. She was putting herself in danger, staying behind to help the others out. Fear for her safety ate at his belly, chilling his skin despite the heat of the flames. If she didn't die in the fire, he was going to strangle her for not coming out first as he'd told her to.
One after another jumped from the window, forming a rhythm. As each dropped in the wagon, Baelin pulled them out, and another would take their place.
Finally, Lady Jill's head appeared in the window as dark smoke billowed around her. She hesitated only briefly before falling to the wagon below. Baelin pulled her from the hay and crushed her to him.
Kendale was the last to jump, but Baelin refused to let Lady Jill go to help him out of the wagon. The knight could manage on his own. At this moment, as he held her alive and safe in his arms, Baelin did not think he would ever let her go.
"Ow."
Baelin pulled back, alarmed she might be injured after all. "Are you hurt?"
"No, but you're squeezing me to death."
He eased his grip, but did not completely let her go. "Apologies, my lady."