“I think the horses will be slaughtered for meat before we cross the threshold,” Alice said as they dismounted.
“Keep your knife close,” Ewan whispered in her ear as he took the reins and looped them over the hitching rail. It seemed Forge stuck to type even as a vampyre. Or more likely he needed to remain invisible while on English soil. Leasing a fine house and hosting regular dinner parties would rather call attention to him. But then so did leaving a drained man on the beach. Mayhap he had thought the tide would carry the body out to sea.
“Stay with the horses, Eilidh, and bark if anyone approaches.” Alice held up a hand and waited until the dog sat on the ground by the geldings.
Ewan played up his limp, dragging his left leg as they entered the dim interior. A smoky haze clung to the upper third of the room and over time had stained the whitewash yellow. Candles dripped from a variety of mismatched light fittings hanging from the ceiling. Conversation rose and fell from the few patrons huddled in dark corners. Tables around the edge were set into booths with built-in bench seats. Railings emerged from the top of the seat backs to create the illusion of privacy.
Several large tables occupied the main floor with long bench seats for communal dining. A bar of ancient wood ran the length of one wall, the surface blackened from decades of hands and filth crossing its surface. Ewan leaned his good arm on the bar and peered over.
“Can I help you?” a woman asked. She wore a cream apron over her dress and wiped a glass on one corner before setting it down. Her face was lined with years of worry, and the stray wisps of hair peeking out from under her cap were as grey as the exterior of the tavern. Deep lines radiated away from the corners of eyes the colour of chocolate.
Ewan was relieved to see she appeared clean and tidy, even if the outside of the inn was not. “My wife and I are new to the area and we’re looking for rooms. Do you have any space available?”
She narrowed her gaze and assessed Ewan and Alice as though she could tell the contents of their pockets by the way their jackets hung. “How long do you plan on staying?”
“We plan to settle here if we can find work. We are looking for a fresh start now that Sean has been discharged from the army.” Alice stepped closer to Ewan, tucking herself against his side. Alice retained her name, but they decided on Sean for Ewan, since he was known to Forge.
The woman’s face lightened with interest. “A fresh start? Well, you’re a pretty wee thing—are you also a hard worker?”
Alice glanced at Ewan before answering. “I certainly am.”
The older woman pursed her lips then seemed to make up her mind about something. “We’re short-staffed here. One of the girls got herself in the family way and had to leave. It’s hard work but honest, if you’re willing. There’s a small cottage out back if you want it. I can deduct the rent from your wages, if you can pay the first week up front.”
Ewan laid some coins on the counter and slid them over. “That ought to cover our first week.”
The money was swept off into her hand and disappeared into the woman’s pocket. “Welcome to the Dancing Sow family. I’m Mrs McGaffin, but most people call me Gaffie. I run this place with my boy, Jimmy, and his wife, Daisy.”
Alice held out a hand to Gaffie. “Thank you for the opportunity. I’m Alice. And this is my husband, Sean Evans.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have a bath, would you? We’ve been on the road for days.” Ewan plastered his most winning smile on his face.
The innkeeper blushed and seemed lost for words for a moment or two. Apparently his smile worked even when his usual features were made coarser by Alice’s spell. That was reassuring to know. He was tempted to try it on Alice just to see if she would blush too.
Gaffie nodded. “You’ll have to heat your own water, but there’s a tin bath out back you can take into the cottage and a good supply of coal and wood for your fire.”
“You are a goddess of comfort, Gaffie.” He took her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.
The woman giggled, a noise quite at sorts with her appearance. “Get on with you. I’ll have Daisy show you where things are.”
“Thank you, madam.” If he kept charming the locals like this and winning their support, he could have Forge captured by suppertime tomorrow.
“Daisy! Come show these folks to the cottage out back. And find the bath,” Gaffie yelled through a doorway by the bar.
A woman no older than Alice appeared from out back. Daisy was on the slightly short and plump side, with long, lank hair tied back at her nape and a tired expression in her brown eyes.
“This way.” She led them through the main room of the tavern and around the side. Out the back of the tavern were the stables laid out in an L-shape and making two sides of a large courtyard. In the middle of the yard was a stone well. Horses stuck their heads over the half doors of their stables as they passed, and one stall was home to a cow. A squat pigsty ran along the end wall of the barn, and squealing and snuffling came from behind its walls.
Ewan prayed they weren’t going to be situated next to the pigs. He might be undercover, but he still had some standards. Thankfully the lass took them to the small wattle and daub cottage next to the stables. It only had one room, but the fire would heat the space and they would have privacy out here. In a tavern, all the walls had ears.
“I’ll fetch clean blankets for the bed, then I’ll help you carry the bath over. There’s both wood and coal stored behind the stables that you can use for your fire,” Daisy said then retreated back to the main building.
“I’ll set the fire first, then find pots and draw some water,” Alice said.
A bath was on both their minds. The more Ewan thought about bathing, the more his body itched as though lice ran over his skin. “I’ll fetch the horses and Eilidh.”
It took time to make the cottage passably comfortable. First, the dirty floor needed sweeping. Alice did that while the fire built its base of embers. Daisy returned with a pile of blankets, and then she and Alice carried the tin bath over from the stables.
Alice filled pots with water from the well and set them on the cast iron plate of the stove to heat. That gave them time to unsaddle and brush the horses. Eilidh sniffed in all the corners of their new home, and then sneezed.
“Not the cleanest, girl, but we shall make do.” Ewan ruffled the dog’s ears.
Alice continued the monotonous work of pouring one pot into the bath and then heading outside to refill it with cold water from the well. By the time the bath was full and ready, they had seen to the horses, swept the cottage, made the bed, and almost settled into married life.
Almost because Ewan was left contemplating the awkward bath question. In another lifetime, he quite enjoyed watching a woman bathe, but that was when he could recline on a divan with an exquisite glass of wine and watch the show.
Honour dictated that Alice bathe first, but it didn’t seem right to stay in the room while she did. The tiny cottage lacked sufficient space for them to avoid each other. Even the sole bed was barely big enough for two, but his bones ached at the mere thought of sleeping on the hard ground for weeks on end.
He was still watching steam curl off the water when she returned.
“Are you mesmerised by the thought of being clean?” she whispered from beside him.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “It will take several baths, a massage, and a shave at the best baths in London to ever make me feel clean again. But no, I was thinking I would go for a walk while you have your bath.”
She poked at the fire and tossed on another scoop of coals. “It’s cooling off out there, and I doubt a walk would be good for your leg. You need a decent soak for the heat to work through to the bone. I won’t be long; a quick dip, and I shall report for work in the tavern.”
“I wanted to afford you what little privacy I can.” He gestured to their cramped quarters.
She gave that sad little smile that made his chest ache and his wolf whimper. Then she reached up
and started to unbutton her dress. “I am no stranger to being naked in front of a man. And I would feel safer knowing you were close by.”
Well, he certainly wasn’t going to stare at her like a fifteen-year-old boy encountering his first naked woman. He turned his back and studied the scant contents of his saddlebags until he heard the splash of water and her soft murmur.
At least the tub was small. She had her knees pulled to her chest, so there was little flesh visible. But what he did see was slick perfection. He had expected to see her back laced with scars from her time with Hoth. But she was unmarked.
She looked around as she reached out for the soap and flannel sitting on the nearby chair. “He was always careful when he beat me. Cuts, bruises, and even small breaks all heal—anything too deep would permanently damage his property. It wouldn’t do to be seen out with something that appeared less than perfect on his arm. That would reflect badly on him.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” Yet again, she peered into his mind and plucked out his intent. Was this what it felt like when he read the thoughts of others that they had written so clearly in their faces?
One shoulder lifted in a shrug as she ran the soap over wet skin. “We both have histories we seek to conceal, but in hiding we only make others more curious.”
If he was going to stand around and talk, then he may as well perform a useful task. “I’ll wash your hair,” he offered. Then he found a small jug and pulled up a chair behind the tub.
“Thank you.” Alice scrubbed at her hands and fingernails while Ewan poured water over her head.
Hairdressing would never be his forte, especially not with his injured hand. He managed to wash and rinse Alice’s short hair well enough to satisfy his own standards.
He took the hint when she wrapped her hands around the edge of the bath and looked around. He fetched a towel and held it up like a screen as she stepped from the bath, and then he wrapped the cloth around her.
Her smile of thanks was shy and a tiny bit awkward, but they were coping with the intimacy. Coping? He lied to himself constantly. Her presence gave him quiet contentment. Alone with Alice, he could breathe; she saw beneath his façade and he had no need of his practised looks. If he dared an honest inspection of his motive, he knew the truth he would find—he enjoyed the intimacy between them. Relished it, even, savouring every moment.
There was danger in becoming too comfortable with their roles; he might not want it to end.
13
Alice
* * *
Alice wondered why she even bothered having a quick dip in the tub; the very air in the tavern was dirty and dank and would surely coat her clean skin by the end of the night. The clientele looked like they marinated in filth. The men had worn faces, greasy hair, and blackened hands as they clutched their tankards of ale.
How she would survive in this world? The dark nightmare that destroyed her sanity had come to life and spread to her waking moments. In her rising panic, every man was potentially an Unnatural demon who would torture her while whittling away her essence.
Then a man entered the tavern with a small black shape attached to his leg, and she knew how she would find her way forward. Man and canine took a seat in a corner and the pressure in her mind eased, and she let out a long held breath.
Find my sanctuary, she asked of her gift, and it centred on Ewan and Eilidh. No matter where she moved in the tavern, she felt their presence and it soothed her panic. This Unnatural man would protect her from any threat, and if she needed further reassurance, she had only to touch the wolf’s head around her neck.
Ewan opened his small poetry book, and while he appeared to read, from under his brows he tracked Alice. He was her wolf protector if she needed one. Eilidh huddled close to his legs under the table. The little terrier might hate the tavern, but she would not leave her mistress.
Alice drew a deep breath and prepared for the battle ahead. More than bringing a traitor to justice, she fought for the inner peace that would only come when she found the last piece of her soul. She also fought for the touch of the man who hid in the gloom. There was the truth she had come to learn over their days travelling together. Her body and soul craved the quiet moments when Ewan held her. Yet he seemed unmoved by her, as though she pined for the attention of a marble statue.
Was she a foolish girl, pinning her affections on the first man who showed her kindness? No, the voice whispered. She understood him in ways others could not. Ewan hid from his past, and Alice peered into the cracks others didn’t see. Just as she needed to face her demons to reclaim her life, so Ewan needed to confront whatever lay in his history. He just didn’t know that Alice intended to free him as well as herself.
A tiny piece of her had hoped she would be the mate to his wolf. It seemed an extraordinary type of thing when Ianthe spoke of the deep bond between her and Quinn. Yet from what she recollected, Ianthe said the wolf always knew innately and was single minded in securing the love of its mate. Ewan showed no romantic interest in Alice. Did that prove she could not be anything of significance to his wolf?
As she returned to the bar with her tray full of empty mugs, another presence gave her comfort. The slight weight of the knife strapped to her ankle. Ewan frowned when she suggested putting it higher up her thigh. Too hard to reach in a hurry, he had said, and then pointed to her calf instead.
Not that she wanted to think about having to use it. There was a world of difference between throwing a knife at a barn wall or sack stuffed with hay and plunging it into the warm, living body of another person. She wanted to become the blade, but could she use one in a pinch?
She dropped the tray on the bar and wiped her brow on the corner of her apron. Her first night was proving to be quite a trial. She didn’t know if it was the hot, crowded tavern making her sweat or the need to constantly reinforce her mental armour just to make it between tables.
Daisy joined her at the bar as Gaffie refilled the pitchers.
“I wish my Jimmy would look at me the way your man does.” Daisy sighed and leaned her elbows on the counter.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Alice turned and glanced at Ewan. While she saw the handsome man, others saw the nondescript fellow she blurred over his features. Did they give themselves away by how he kept watch?
Gaffie chuckled. “Your man reminds me of the farmers who drag themselves in over autumn. Those lads work all the daylight hours getting in the harvest before winter hits. After dark they come in here, exhausted and parched. When you drop a full tankard in front of them, they have the same look in their eye as your Sean. They savour it for a moment before drinking deeply to satisfy their thirst.”
“Oh,” Alice said. Her mind slowly processed the comparison. Then her eyes widened, for surely they must be mistaken. Ewan didn’t look at her like that. Did he? She snuck another peek.
Daisy sighed. “He looks a fine fellow too. I bet he has quite the form under those clothes, despite his injuries.”
Alice wondered at the state of Daisy’s marriage that she was casting eyes at Ewan and making such comments after their brief acquaintance. She hoped her hiding spell was holding up. Daisy shouldn’t see the lean, handsome man but the nondescript, fleshy one. Although there was something about the way he carried himself. Whatever his outward appearance, he emitted an aura of quiet menace, and a man who exuded trouble had an intoxicating appeal to some women.
Now that Alice thought about it, she didn’t want other women mooning over Ewan, even if their arrangement was pretend. She had so little in this world and would jealously guard her moments with him. The tug on her ankle reminded her of the knife’s presence. That would entertain the locals if she drew a blade and told the other woman to stay away from her man.
With some effort, Alice returned her mind to why she was now a barmaid in a dingy tavern. They were in Seabrook for one particular reason, and there was no time like the present to guide conversation in the needed direction. “The injuries
have affected Sean’s pride, though. It’s hard for him to sit there while I work to put a roof over our heads.”
“Even able-bodied lads are finding the going hard. Many a man has returned from the war only to find honest work thin on the ground.” Gaffie dropped two full pitchers on the trays.
Alice smiled and met the tavern owner’s gaze. “Waiting around for honest work won’t put food in your stomach. Sean is resourceful with a keen mind, and he would do anything to provide for us. Legality doesn’t matter when a man’s self-worth is at stake.”
Gaffie made a noise in her throat and shared a look with Daisy. Then her gaze narrowed on Alice. “I’ll talk to Jimmy. He may know of something that would give your man a task to keep his mind off his aches.”
The first step to finding the smuggling ring might now be under way. “Thank you, you are so kind to us.”
Alice picked up the full pitcher and launched herself back into the crowded floor. Part of her job was to ensure the men’s mugs stayed topped up. The other part was navigating a clear course through an ocean of grasping hands. The men resembled octopi, for they seemed to have hands everywhere as she brushed past.
Alice wondered if one among them was Forge. Quinn and Ewan had struggled to give her a description, the man nondescript and average as though he wove his own hiding spell to conceal his appearance. He could be any one of those crammed inside the tavern or, more likely, none of them. The vampyre wouldn’t have any need of ale or a plain pub meal, and a man sitting with nothing before him would stick out in the tavern.
She wanted this mission over and done with so she could return to Northamptonshire, but she also wanted to keep the pretence going. If it took weeks or months to track down Forge, would Ewan grow used to calling her his wife and climbing into bed with her at night? Would the line between reality and the fiction they enacted blur?
Souls to Heal Page 12