A Very Highland Holiday

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  They were at least another day’s ride from his holding south of Inverness, but with exhaustion setting in along with the renewed storm on this Christmas morning, they had nothing for it save to stop at the same place he’d stayed the night before on his way to Campbell lands—Balthazar’s.

  Good God, it had been a mess…But at least no one would come looking for them there.

  All through the night with Sarah on his lap, he’d followed the same northern star, keeping him on the right path. The lass had been quiet, thankfully, because he’d not wanted to talk, but rather concentrate on the horrible weather and the road ahead. Not to mention any sounds from behind them.

  If no one had realized she was gone the night before, they’d certainly be noticing now with the sun rising on the horizon. Christmas morning, the lass would have been expected to wed, or at the very least, woken in her own bed and joined her clan for breakfast.

  Knowing that he had many hours lead and the storm to protect them, a stopover at Balthazar’s, though it seemed a risky move, would not be as dangerous for them.

  “Are ye awake, lass?” he asked.

  She stirred in his arms, stretching her arms out and then tucking herself quickly back into the blanket. “Aye. Where are we?”

  Thane glanced toward the smoke curling into the sky just ahead, his stomach souring. This was the last place he wanted to be. Well, not the last—that would be Campbells’s dungeon. “Balthazar’s Tavern.”

  “Well, this will be a new Christmas adventure.” There was a bit of excitement in her tone that he found alarming.

  “Nay, lass. ’Tis no’ that kind of place. We’ll need to be on our guard. Dinna mention your name,” he warned. “And I’m no’ a Shaw while we’re here, and ye’re no’ a Campbell, understand?”

  Sarah stiffened in his arms. “Who might ye be, then?”

  “Munros. Headed home from the clan wedding of our cousins near Lindsay lands.”

  “All right…Is there a reason ye’ve named clans who fought with the dragoons at Culloden?” She sat up a little farther, her bottom rubbing against his thighs.

  Thane groaned at her movement. “Aye, we’re headed into the snake pit.”

  “Oh,” she breathed out, the excitement gone from her voice. There was a long pause, and he could practically hear the questions racking up in her mind. “And are we brother and sister for this journey?”

  “Nay.” He clamped his mouth closed, shifting a little farther back on his saddle. “Ye’re my wife. Then none of the bastards will see fit to mess with ye.”

  “That kind of a crowd, eh?”

  “The patrons of Balthazar’s fought on the other side of the battlefield, lass. And they are no’…friends of ours. They are rough about the edges. But stick with me, and ye’ll be safe.”

  “Oh.” There was fear and sadness in her sigh.

  “We’ll stay only as long as the weather demands,” he said.

  She nodded, the top of her head tapping against his chin, nearly making him bite his tongue. The snake pit was going to be a reprieve away from this temptress. She didn’t even realize how much she was…bothering him. Perhaps it was just that it had been so long since he’d been with a woman. Not that he found the adventurous lass in his lap to be of any interest at all.

  “’Tis there.” He indicated the tavern just a stone’s throw away to get his mind off her squirming, enticing body.

  The tavern was built of thick, heavy stones. Tiny windows barely emitted any candlelight now that it was morning, but come night, the wee squares of light would lure in weary travelers.

  The thatched roof was covered in thick snow, and Thane wondered how long it would take before a part of it collapsed in on the inhabitants. Given the state of the inside, he’d hazard to guess very soon.

  Thane led Destiny on a path that had been recently cleared around the back of the tavern to where the stable was located. A young lad stood in the doorway, rubbing his hands together. A shovel leaned on the side of the stone building beside him. Clearly, he was the one who had shoveled the path. Another lad shoved him aside with an armload of wood. They’d have a nice fire going on inside to keep themselves and the horses warm. A small curl of smoke leached from the ceiling, which was good. At least they’d managed to keep the chimney clear.

  “Got room for another?” Thane called.

  The lad nodded and hopped forward on feet that were probably frozen. He reached for the reins, holding tight while they dismounted, each of them grabbing their respective satchels.

  “Gonna cost ye, but Balthazar will collect inside,” the lad said, teeth chattering.

  “Thanks, lad.” Thane reached into his sporran and pulled out a coin. “For ye and the others in the stables. Keep my mount well.”

  “Aye, sir. Thank ye.” The lad led Destiny inside, telling him exuberantly how much oats he was about to have for his breakfast. He called over his shoulder, “Ye can go in the door to the kitchens rather than trudge about.”

  “Thank ye.” He took Sarah by the hand. Her fingers were small, slim and freezing. “Goodness, ye should have told me how cold ye were.”

  “No’ my place to complain, though, is it?”

  Saints, did she really think he meant to torture her on top of the abduction? “’Tis no’ complaining. I dinna want ye to lose a finger.”

  “Ye dinna?” She glanced up at him, and he could figure out the rest of what she meant, that a finger was a lot smaller of a thing to lose than one’s life.

  The truth was he didn’t want her to lose a finger—not even a hair on her head.

  “Remember what we discussed,” Thane said gruffly. “Munros on the way back from Lindsey lands.”

  “I’ll no’ forget.” She shuddered, and he had a feeling it was not from the cold.

  The kitchens were smoky and filled with shouted orders as scullions rushed to follow the head cook’s demands. It smelled enticing, rich with herbs and baking scones. There was a savory scent that belied the large pot of porridge being ladled into bowls from the hearth fire. All of the aromas reminded Sarah how little she’d eaten in the last few days, since she’d been so worried about the Christmas Eve celebration and subsequent auction of her life.

  Thane had offered her nothing but a canteen of water on their ride here, and she hadn’t asked for more. It had been the middle of the night, after all, and he wasn’t responsible for her having missed supper. Besides, she’d spent most of the time sleeping, keeping warm and trying to refrain from annoying him so he wouldn’t change his mind and take her back to her brothers.

  “Get out, ye rapscallions!” shouted the cook, swinging a ladle in their direction. A few speckles of porridge hit Sarah’s cheeks. “Food will come when ’tis good and ready.”

  Thane ducked the swinging utensil, and the second fling of oats. Barely having time to wipe her face, Sarah followed suit, rushing from the kitchens. However, they went the wrong way and ended up in the scullery room, where they were met by a buxom redhead who greeted them with a saucy grin, her hands buried in a wash bin full of dishes.

  “Och, but ye’ll no’ be doing your dirty business in here, ye two.” She pointed toward the door, droplets of water flinging in their direction. “Back to the common room with ye.”

  Sarah’s face heated, and she was sure it flamed as red as her own hair at what the woman suggest with that line about “dirty business.” She might not be as worldly as some, but she knew exactly what that referenced.

  “We got turned around,” Thane explained. “We just arrived and came in the back door.”

  The irritation dissipated from the woman’s face. “Well, in that case, welcome to Balthazar’s. He’s my da. I’m Carrie, and this is our tavern. Will ye be taking a room?”

  “Aye, that would be verra much appreciated,” Thane said.

  “Of course, I’m just back here helping out while I waited for my own room to be tidied up after it was let out to someone else.” The woman narrowed her eyes, wet, red hands on he
r hips. “Ye wouldna be here causin’ trouble, would ye? We’ve had a few troublemakers about the past fortnight or so.”

  “Oh, nay,” they both answered at the same time. Then as if they’d been playing this game for more than a few minutes, they glanced at each other and laughed like two lovebirds.

  “Sorry,” Sarah said with a giggle. “Newlyweds. I’m S—Samantha Lindsey, I mean Samantha Munro now. This is my husband—Tobias Munro.”

  “Och, I see. Welcome, welcome and congratulations. Ye’ll have a round of ale on us, I’ll see to that. Go on out to the common room, and in the meantime, I’ll have a room set up. Oh,” she squealed. “And one more thing. I’ve go’ a special room here, my Chamber of Sorrow, if ye’d like to pay respects to anyone that ye lost in the battle. Doesna matter the side. We all lost that day.”

  Carrie had a whole chamber devoted to prayer for the dead Scots and traitorous dragoons? Immediately she wondered if anything belonging to her brother would be in that room.

  It was a mighty task to hide her horror, but Sarah managed it. “Thank ye kindly, Carrie. I’m sure we’d love to enjoy it later today.”

  “Excellent. Now go on with ye. Cook is going to begin serving soon, and if ye miss out on the meal, it will be a while before supper.”

  Carrie ushered them out of the scullery through the kitchen, where this time they dodged scraps of cabbage tossed their way and finally made it into the common room. The tiny windows barely let in any light, and the ceiling was low. The floors were made of dirt, strewn with straw, which was a shock to Sarah, given the only taverns she’d ever been in had either wood or slate flooring. What were they trying to hide beneath the straw? But she needn’t have wondered, for the stench in the commons quickly dispelled the delicious scents from the kitchen. It smelled like…

  Dog excrement.

  Sarah tried not to gag at the overpowering smell. She glanced up at Thane to see if he’d noticed, but he was busy scanning the patrons and available tables. Several dogs lounged by the hearth sleeping, but there was one who’d taken up the telltale curved back pose of disposing of his bowels.

  “Dear God,” Thane muttered to her under his breath. “We’ll take our meal in a chamber. Hopefully, the private rooms are better.”

  “Good idea.” She leaned closer to him as if that would somehow make her feel better.

  A large, bald, older man slapped his hand on a table with a friend, shouting for the dog to cease his business, before addressing them. “Welcome, newcomers. I’m Balthazar.”

  His beard looked similar to the fake one Thane had been sporting at Campbell castle, and if she had to guess, Sarah thought it probably smelled worse.

  “Thank ye, sir. We’re waiting on a room your daughter is having prepared for us,” Thane said. “And if we could have our meals served there? Newlyweds.” He added a wink for emphasis, which got a round of cheers from those in residence and started the hounds to howling.

  Sarah was not against dogs; she loved them dearly. Her own sweet Mildred had just passed the month before. But these hounds were unruly, and she guessed it had something to do with the tavern owner himself, who seemed something of a wild man.

  “Come, come. I’ve got one already set up.” Balthazar ushered them through a series of chambers. “Will this do?”

  But before they could reply, Carrie shouted, “Da, I’ve got another one prepared for the newlyweds.”

  She took them to a door across from the one her father had suggested. Before opening it, she leaned in a little close, speaking conspiratorially. “On the other side of this wall is my Chamber of Sorrow.” Carrie glanced down at her feet, then back up at them brightly with her green eyes. “I’m hoping the souls whose possessions I’ve got displayed there will bless your union. And that it will bring me good luck in finding my own gentleman husband.”

  And what type of gentleman would that be—an English dragoon or a Jacobite rebel? Somehow, she managed to mask her musings and offer her thanks enthusiastically.

  “Gave ye the best bed in the tavern. Sheets have been cleaned recently. Dinna mind about the table, it will make do.”

  As soon as Carrie and Balthazar shut the door behind them, Sarah turned to Thane. His handsome features were masked with indifference, but then his brooding gaze latched onto hers.

  Mildly teasing, but partly serious, Sarah said, “Just where in blazes have ye brought me, sir? I promised to behave. Ye need no’ have added torture to your abduction.”

  Thane raised his brows, arms crossing over the wide expanse of his muscled chest. “I could leave ye here. Maybe Cook will stop swinging her ladle long enough to offer ye a position?”

  Chapter Four

  Sarah laughed. “Were ye sotted on your last sojourn? Or is this what I should expect of the Shaw holding?”

  Thane grunted, smirking at her joke, before quickly wiping away his mirth. They were supposed to be enemies. They were enemies. He’d abducted her, even if she had come willingly.

  “I wish I could say I was, and no, Shaw is an oasis of calm,” he drawled, turning his gaze to their private hell. The chamber was not as unwelcoming as the common area of the tavern, and Thane was more than happy to take it for the night. Hopefully, that was all they would need it for.

  “Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it!”

  Though this floor was also dirt-packed, a carpet that appeared recently beaten lay on the floor beside the bed, which was shoved against a wall.

  The wooden bed frame sagged from the lumpy straw mattress that appeared to weigh an unfathomably vast amount, and tossed on top of it was a plain wool blanket. At least it did look clean, as Carrie had said. She and her father seemed like they aimed to please. If he’d been on better terms with them, perhaps a regular, Thane might have told them a simple redecorating of the main tavern room would bring in more guests. But they seemed smart enough to have figured that out on their own, which meant they probably purposefully kept it…rustic.

  Two stools flanked a small table that was missing half a leg, but an upside-down bucket had been placed to steady it. Best rented chamber in the place—that was saying a lot. He kind of wished that Balthazar had opened the other chamber door, so he’d have something to compare it to.

  Perhaps there was a certain charm in providing such a medieval tavern to those looking to go back in time. A time when Scotland had not been trampled over by dragoons. Saints, but he could not remember such a time ever having existed.

  Thane turned away from the bed to investigate a crumbling iron brazier that had seen better days. The room was chilly and could do with a bit of heat. He picked up the poker resting on the rim and jabbed at the half-burned logs in the cavern. One of them crumbled to ash, sending up a plumb of dust, which had them both waving in front of their faces and coughing.

  “I’m no’ that cold,” Sarah said with a cough and a laugh.

  Thane groaned and dropped the poker. “Good. I’m afraid if I light it, the whole room will blaze.”

  “It might go to flame anyhow with the way it was roaring in the kitchen and the common room.” She giggled and backed away from the brazier. Either she was daft, or she was the type of person who always seemed to look on the bright side of the coin. While he wanted to think it was the former, he was fairly certain it was the latter, which only ended up endearing her to him.

  “I hardly noticed,” he quipped. “Though I did wonder if ye were going to lick the oats off your face.”

  “Ha! Maybe I should have, for I am starving.” Sarah tossed her satchel onto the bed, and surprisingly a plume of dust did not rise with it.

  Carrie had not fibbed about cleaning the bedding. Well, that boded well for their sleep. Och, but they would have to share a bed. There was barely even any room on the floor for Sarah to curl up on, and he wasn’t going to make her sleep on the dirt-packed earth, despite there being a rug tossed down.

  Sarah pulled out one of the stools and sat on it, wobbling a little and catching herself on the uneven table,
nearly dislodging the bucket. “Whoa,” she said, finally managing to catch her balance.

  This only seemed to make her laugh, and Thane couldn’t help but notice her dimple and the beauty mark that winked in and out with her humor.

  She was beautiful, and it wasn’t fair. Under the circumstances, he should not find her so attractive and fascinating. Instead of taking the stool opposite her, Thane leaned against the door, arms crossed, one ankle over the other, and stared in her direction. He told himself he was doing as an abductor would, but truly, it was to put distance between them because the way she was wriggling her bottom on that stool reminded him all too well of their journey on Destiny.

  Sarah cocked her head, a tease in her dark eyes. She stared back at him, a bit of humor dancing about her mouth too. “Goodness, but ye sure are brooding. If ye’re doing that for my benefit so that I remember ye’re my captor, I assure ye, I am well aware, and I dinna plan to go anywhere.”

  A knock vibrated the door at his back, and Thane pushed away from it, opening it to see who would interrupt them.

  Carrie stood in the hallway with a tray of food, and one of the lads from the stable behind her held a jug and two cups.

  “We’ve brought your breakfast, a bit standard for us, but I assure ye supper will be delightful. And we’ve got a mid-morning Christmas treat too. Are ye planning to dine in your chamber this evening as well?”

  “Aye.” Thane’s mouth watered at the simple fair. Lord, but he was starving. If he recalled correctly, the butter here last time was surprisingly good.

  “All right, good then. When ye finish, if ye like, I can show ye the Chamber of Sorrow.” Carrie beamed a smile at them and shifted on her feet.

  “Hmm,” Thane said. “We’ll consider it.”

  Sarah was beside him then, her hand on his arm. “We’d love to see it. Perhaps with a bit of food, my husband will be more cheerful.” She nudged him in the elbow as if she were the one in charge of their current circumstances.