Page 56 of The Wolf in My Tavern

“In the tavern. Incident with that shifter bastard.”

I feel the prickling of unease. He is talking about Gray, I’m sure of it. But he is not talking to me, so I stay where I am, sweeping up the dust left behind from the packing crates so I can surreptitiously listen in.

“… killed two men…”

“Why the fuck did he do that?” I demand and, giving up all pretenses of working, stalk over to stand at my father’s side.

Anders looks from me to my pa and back again. “There was a fight. It was rowdy, by all accounts. A man known for cheating at cards clearly picked the wrong sailor to fleece. Your lass was standing close by when it happened. They knocked Ada flying, and that’s when the shifter stepped in.”

“Ada? Is she alright?” Fuck. My mind is all over the place. I cannot think fucking straight. I need to go to her. I need to go to her right now.

“Steady, lad,” Anders says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “The lass is well, thanks to the shifter. Although he could have used more subtlety in his method of killing.” He grimaces. “I had to pay off no end of people to cover the ruckus up. I thought the two of you should know, given this involves the lass you’re due to marry in a couple of days.”

“Thank you,” I say, my heart galloping in my chest. “I need to go and see her, Pa.”

“Of course, son,” he says. “Go on over and check. Send my regards to Ada and ask Tim if there is anything we can help with.”

The two men fall into a conversation. I charge out the back, grab my cloak off the hook beside the kitchen door, and turn into the alleyway at a run.

Gareth is the first man I see, carrying a barrel of ale over one shoulder between the cellar and the tavern.

“Gareth, where’s Ada?” I call.

“Aye, Callum, lad,” he says. Slowing his steps to a stop, he turns back to look at me. “Your lass is fine, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was coming over to tell you once I finished changing these barrels.”

“A city guardsman came by with the news,” I say. “I wanted to check on her.”

“Of course,” he says. “Go on through. Although I happened to hear her and Betsy talking about going to the markets. If you hurry, you might catch them.”

I enter the back door of the tavern, startling the cook. I wouldn’t normally come in this way, and further, the tavern is not even open at this time of day, but my urgent mind doesn’t care.

“Go on through, lad,” she says. “Such a kerfuffle last night. And a relief Gray was there.”

I growl under my breath, trying to temper the feelings that rush through me. Why didn’t Ada send word to me last night? Had I known, I would have come straight over.

She probably didn’t want to worry me. But, fuck that. I am to be her husband, and I have a right to be worried and to be there for her.

Also, why did that bastard have to be the one to step in? If anybody should be protecting Ada, it should be me.

My thoughts are irrational. I’m grateful he did. I really am. But also, I fucking hate that he did.

Tim is in the main tavern room, taking inventory of several broken chairs. My fists tighten as I see the evidence of the fight.

“Tim, I’m looking for Ada,” I say.

His head whips around, and his face softens. “She has gone to the market with Betsy. She mentioned calling in your workshop on the way back.” He rubs his brow. “Poor lass was bowled over when the trouble started. Thank the Goddess that Master Gray moved so swiftly and snatched her out of harm’s way.”

I want to growl at that bit about Gray’s hands on my woman, even though I’d sooner rip my own heart out than have Ada hurt.

“I should have booted the lot of them out after the first fight started,” Tim continues, oblivious to my rising rage.

“You weren’t to know,” I say distractedly, although I really wish he had kicked everybody out, and then Ada would never have been involved. It feels like the puzzle pieces are falling altogether at once, yet they still do not make any fucking sense. “Might see if I can catch up with her.”

I am definitely going to look for her, but I don’t want to sound like a sap when everyone else is so fucking calm.

“Aye. They’re looking for some ribbons and such.” He smiles. “Something to do with your wedding.”

The franticness inside me softens a little. We shall be wedded in two days. I feel foolish, yet urgent. I don’t need to go racing off after her, do I? She is obviously fine, or she would have sent for me. And now she is buying pretty things for the wedding: I feel like an even bigger fool when maybe she only wants to surprise me.

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