Page 14 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
Fortunately, a sense of urgency in a different area presented him with the perfect excuse to take a moment away. He finished his tankard, then rose. “Yer pardon.”
Lydia grabbed his arm before he could make his escape. “Where are ye going?”
“Privy. Or a back alley, if there’s nay piss pot or privy about.” Lydia blushed and released him, and Murdoch took the opportunity to scurry away.
The time it took to find the privy and relieve himself was enough for him to regain some of his composure. Beyond that, he was fairly certain their food would by now have been set before them, which meant he could hope that she’d be too occupied with eating for more questions.
Still, necessary as his actions had been, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d done Lydia a disservice. He hadn’t needed to be quite so abrupt, and he should have at least made sure someone was there to watch over her. It wouldn’t have taken more than a moment to send her man-at-arms in while he took care of his business behind the stable, for example. The hound could watch over the carriage easily enough.
Perhaps he should stop by the kitchens and ask for the cook or the maid to make something as a treat for Lydia - or else recommend someone who would make such things. Some village taverns served a ‘standard’ fare that could be augmented by others in the village. Others could make a little bit of anything, so long as they were paid the coin for it.
He was halfway to the kitchen door before he realized that he’d left Lydia unescorted for far too long already, and that it would be better to ask the serving maid who brought their drinks about that sort of thing.
He entered the main dining area to see that he was correct. The tavern maid had delivered their food as he’d anticipated. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that had come to the table while he was otherwise occupied.
Two men, burly laborers in farm smocks, had also taken up places by the table. From the looks on their faces, they’d had more ale than was good for them and they’d clearly gotten the wrong idea about Lydia.
Murdoch stalked closer, just in time to see the first man reach out to grab Lydia’s arm. “Come on, pretty wench, daenae be so rude. I can make it worth yer while to be nice…come have an ale with me and me friends.”
“Unhand me, please. I daenae wish to join ye. I’m waitin' for me companion.”
The second man leered drunkenly at her. “Nae much of a friend to leave ye alone. I’d never do that.”
Lydia’s eyes were sparkling with anger, and, unless Murdoch missed his guess, she had her free hand on her belt knife. “I wish ye would.”
The man’s companion sniggered. “Seems like the wench thinks she too good fer us. Oughta teach her a lesson…”
“I think ye're right.” The man’s grip tightened on Lydia’s arm.
Enough was enough. Murdoch surged forward and clamped his hand around the man’s wrist. “Unhand the lass.”
He squeezed hard, and the man let go with a gasp of pain. Murdoch shoved him back toward his friend, his lip curling menacingly. “Get back to yer table and back to yer drink and leave me companion alone.”
“Bastard. Who do ye think ye are?” The man he’d shoved was too busy nursing his bruised wrist to fight, but his friend was apparently both drunk and foolish enough to try his luck. “We’ll decide when we want to leave.”
“Nay. Ye will both go and do it now, and leave mebetrothed in peace afore I stick me blade in yer liver and me fist through yer teeth and leave ye eating soup for the rest of yer life.” Murdoch dropped a hand to his sword hilt.
The man was a drunken fool, but he had just enough wits left to know Murdoch was serious, and that he wasn’t going to win a battle with either fists or blade. With a final scowl, the two men slunk back to their table, to the laughter of their companions.
Murdoch sat down. Lydia gave him a sharp look. “I could have handled them. I ken how to fight.”
“Aye. But I ken how to win without fightin'. And without riskin' the injuries ye might have taken.” Murdoch applied himself to his waiting meal. After a moment, Lydia did the same.
It took him a moment to recall the thoughts he’d been having, prior to the distraction caused by the men. He lifted a hand to call over the serving maid. “Yer tavern cook, do they serve standard fare, or can a man ask for something extra?”
“Extra items will cost ye more, and the price depends on what ye want - and double if ye want something that has to be sent for from old Molly down the road.”
Having to send for something would take longer, and he wasn’t of a mind to linger. “What sort of sweet things can yer cook make, that willnae take too long?”
“Got some scones from the mornin', and a bit of fresh cream and honey. Can also make biscuits with fruit preserves from last fall’s harvest.”
Murdoch turned to Lydia. “Do ye like the sound of either of those?”
She blinked, flustered. “I…I daenae need…”
“I ken. But I was thinkin’ to apologize for leavin' ye on yer own for too long, when I should have had better manners. Besides, tavern was me choice, and I’d like to give ye somethin’ while we’re here.”
Lydia blushed, but after a moment, she nodded to the serving maid. “A scone with cream and honey sounds good, thank ye. And another tankard of ale, please?”
