Page 21 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
The other two vendors had similar stories, and Violet could see frustration deepen in his face when they were constantly let down. As they went back to the horses, Violet's eyes met those of a thin redhead lad quickly before he ducked away. Thinking nothing of it, she got on the horse and they went back to the center of the town.
“A tavern now?”
“Aye,” he said, “Luckily for us, it is in the lone inn they have here and mayhap we can find more people there to question.”
She stopped her horse and reached out to rest a hand on his forearm. “We’ll find this woman, Ethan, I am sure of it.”
He did not look comforted, and a cold hollowness began to settle in her heart at the feeling that their quest was turning out to be somewhat pointless. The only thing she was relying on was her instinct, and if she was wrong, Violet felt that there would never be enough apologies she could give him.
If this doesnae work….are there enough words to apologize with?
The inn was nondescript, with dulled wooden walls that showed its age and scrubgrass on both sides of the cobblestone pathway to the entrance. A square of the yard, near a west wall, was made of dirt and a row of hitching posts was there. She slid from the saddle and looped the reins over it. Guilt that she was wasting Ethan’s time had her looking everywhere but to him as they climbed the short steps to the front door.
It was loose, so she pushed in and a warm, somewhat stale air met her nose. There was a front room but, peering down a short corridor, she saw the tavern where a man with a face full of knotty whiskers sat at the long bar. The man sounded to be at the bottom of his cups already but, by peeking further, she saw there were three more people there. Guests of the inn, most likely.
Entering the room, she saw more clearly. A man was beside himself nursing a tankard, and two other people, a man and woman, were talking to each other. A barmaid was in the corner wiping down a table and another was behind the bar.
She took a seat in the corner and watched Ethan get cups of water for them. When the barmaid came back, Ethan spoke to her briefly and she shook her head. The hollow feeling in her heart began to throb. Another rejection. He placed the cup before her, but she felt emptiness sink further. There was a good chance she might lose her stomach contents if she even tried to drink this.
“Stop it,” Ethan said. “I ken that ye are over there digging daggers into yerself for. Ye dinnae cause this.”
“Perhaps I led ye wrong,” she sighed, daring to look up to briefly meet his eyes before looking around. “Mayhap I was completely wrong.”
He prodded the goblet to her. “Even so, the time with ye is never wasted.”
His kind words were a soft balm to her smarting soul, but the earnest look in his eyes enforced his words. “Ye believe that?”
Shrugging, he smiled. “Of course, I’ve gotten to ken who ye are. Ye are the most daring woman I have ever met, and yer smarts outshine the stars I see every night.”
Unsuccessfully fighting down a blush, Violet ducked her head. “Thanks.” Her throat felt tied and she was struggling to say something more when she caught something from the corner of her eye.
It was the same lanky redhead lad from the market; his head darted away and she stood abruptly. She briefly marked the confused Ethan’s face before she darted out, and got to the porch to see the lad look over his shoulder and dart off.
She was after him, sprinting agilely, dashing through the corridor he had taken and running through the slender spaces between the houses, down the twisting streets and leaping over a barrel the boy had kicked after him. She had no time to ask herself why he was running but she knew she had to catch him. If he had any information on the woman they were seeking, she was not going to let him go, even if she had to run to the ends of the earth.
Thumping feet behind her told her that Ethan was running behind her. She chased the flash of red hair as she raced along the path, ducking under eaves and weaving through the people who stumbled in her way. Soon her lungs began to burn as if they were set on fire. Her legs felt heavy and her muscles began to cramp, but as long as there was a breath left in her body, she refused to give up.
She could usually run for a long while without any strain, but she had not been this active in a while. Her step faltered while rounding a corner and she stumbled. She would have sprawled headlong, if she had not pivoted and spun around to get her footing.
“The redhead!” she gasped.
Ethan blew past her, and the moment she regained her balance, she was on his heels. The boy was quick, but Ethan was quicker. The redhead attempted to vault over a low wall, but as he leaped, Ethan grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him back. He spun the lad and shoved him against the wall just at Violet caught up to them.
She hunched over and braced her hands on her knees while Ethan growled. “Why did ye run?”
“A-and,” she gasped, “Why were ye at the market then followed us to the tavern?”
The boy’s face was pale with fear and his voice was a stutter, “I-I was in the town before this and word around there is that ye came around asking for a woman with d-dark hair and blue eyes with a s-scar on her forehead? I wanted to come and see if it was true that someone was asking for her, as well, ye cannae trust drunkards or gossips.”
“Aye, it was us,” Ethan glared, “What do ye ken about it?”
He swallowed liberally and fear rendered his face sickly yellow, “I ken because…her name is Gavina and…she’s—she’s—” he broke off and pressed his lips tight.
“Spit it out,” Ethan ordered impatiently.
“—she’s me sister—,” the lad said. “—but I dinnae ken ye would be searching for her as she’s supposed to bedead.”
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