Page 18 of Bound to a Highland Beast
“They were unlabeled, so I took them all,” she said. As she spoke, she unscrewed the cap of one of the jars, brought it to her nose, and then closed it again, before grabbing the next one. That one seemed to satisfy her, and she applied a thin layer over his wound.
“An’ ye can tell what each is by scent alone?”
“Och aye,” she said. “I’ve always wanted tae be a healer, so I learnt everythin’ I could.”
Tiernan couldn’t help but smile, the tension between them melting away once more. There was a different kind of tension brewing, though, one he couldn’t ignore any longer.
When their gazes met, they both froze. Suddenly, Tiernan couldn’t look away from her, mesmerized by her beauty. Her green eyes shone in the light of day and her hair, dark like ink, was now loose, falling in waves over her shoulders. Isabeau’s cheeks were instantly flooded with color, as though this short moment of connection was enough to embarrass her, and then she quickly averted her gaze.
“Surely, as a healer, ye would have tae treat many men,” he said.
“Aye, I suppose.”
“Then ye cannae blush every time ye take care o’ one,” he teased, and much to his delight, Isabeau blushed an even deeper red. In retaliation, she bunched up the cloth in her hand and threw it at his face, hitting him square on the forehead, before she stood and walked to the door.
“If ye’ll excuse me, I must return these,” she said, in her prim and proper tone, before she left the room.
Even so, Tiernan was certain she could hear his laughter all the way down the stairs.
CHAPTER NINE
Ach, so this is where the stench is.
Contrary to the neatness of the inn, the village tavern held the usual filth of such establishments. The floor was sticky under Isabeau’s shoes and when she placed her hand on the table as she sat, that too was sticky, a film of ale coating the surface and clinging to her fingers. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol and bodies, though some of it was masked by the sweet scent of the pine burning in the fireplace and the stew that simmered on the stove.
The room was packed with people, their voices loud as they all tried to be heard over the hubbub. Though it was a clear day, the tavern as dark, the small windows letting in little natural light. It was only the incandescence of the fire and the candles that burned on every wall and chandelier that illuminated the place, casting a warm glow over the patrons and the flimsy tables and chairs scattered around the room.
Isabeau watched them all, lips parted so she could breathe through her mouth and avoid the worst of the stench. Ever since she and Tiernan had entered the tavern, everyone around them pretended not to see them while at the same time throwing furtive glances at them. Here, too, people recognized Tiernan, but they actively avoided him, their fear overpowering whatever anger and disgust they felt towards him. Now that he was gone, though, and Isabeau was sitting alone at their table, the patrons had started to take a larger interest in her, some of them openly staring.
It was a good thing she was wearing this drab dress, after all. Had she been wearing one of her own, they would have undoubtedly ascended upon her like vultures.
The sound of a palm hitting the table startled Isabeau, but when her gaze snapped up, she only saw Tiernan there, sliding into his seat. She breathed a sigh of relief; his presence had quickly turned from threatening to reassuring for her. If she could help it, she’d rather be as close to him as she could for the rest of their journey.
“I secured a horse,” he said. “It willnae be very comfortable tae travel on one taegether, but we cannae afford two.”
“How can we even afford one?” Isabeau asked. The gold Tiernan had taken from the brigand couldn’t possibly be enough for a horse.
“I sold one o’ me rings,” he said.
“Ye had a ring that expensive? Enough tae buy a horse?”
What kind o’ blacksmith has such a ring?
The kind o’ blacksmith who was once a brigand.
“Aye,” he said. “’Tis the one I stole from Beag. I fancied it, so I thought I’d keep it. Never was there a more appropriate time tae use it.”
Isabeau couldn’t even judge him for it. That ring had saved them a lot of trouble. All she had on her was a necklace, a family heirloom that she had stuffed into her pocket the moment she realized she wouldn’t be returning to the castle any time soon, and from which she refused to part. She wouldn’t trade a family heirloom for anything, not even food and water.
“Did ye find out anythin’ about Constantine?” Isabeau asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“Nay,” said Tiernan, shaking his head with a disappointed, weary sigh. “I asked a few people, but they dinnae wish tae talk tae me. I might simply have tae start usin’ more… convincin’ methods.”
Isabeau stared at Tiernan in disbelief. Why did he always have to resort to violence, she wondered? Why did he always have to use his fists instead of his brain?
“How surprisin’ that they wouldnae speak tae someone who threatens them,” Isabeau said flatly before she could stop herself. Tiernan shot her a scathing look, but he couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips as he tried to contain his mirth.
“Perhaps ye’d like tae try, then,” he suggested with a smalls shrug. “See if ye can dae any better than me.”
