Page 70 of Her Dark Seduction
“I’ll send Gwenna to show you to your room.”
“Have her bring our meal,” I said. “We wish to dine in our room.”
The innkeeper thrust his face toward me, sour anger in his eyes before addressing Tom. “Your woman speaks for you?” he leered. “You should control her better—she merits a beating for speaking thus, uninvited.”
“How dare…” I began but Tom placed a warning hand on my arm. “Forgive us, good man. My sister is merely tired and wishes to retire.”
“If she wishes to eat, she’ll eat in the main room with the rest of us. We’re too busy to tend to a woman who fancies herself a lady.”
He spat at my feet then turned his back and roared for Gwenna.
A thin woman, barely out of childhood, scuttled out and led us to our room. I sank onto the bed, my body aching. It would be a relief to sleep in a bed rather than outside. The damp cold from ground hardened by winter frosts had penetrated the woolen blankets we lay on during our journey. Each morning I’d massaged my feet, numbed by the frost, flinching at the sharp needles of pain pricking at my skin as my toes returned painfully to life.
After fetching our belongings, Tom left me to nurse Geoffrey in peace. Placing my sleeping child on the bed, I dropped a kiss on his forehead before joining Tom in the main room. He had found a table tucked away in a corner and waved as I entered. I sat, surveying the room, my skin prickling with anticipation as if everyone’s eyes were on me.
The room had filled since our arrival and was much noisier—an amorphous bustle of coarse words and laughter. My eyes smarted in the air, acrid with smoke from the fire which now burned more brightly, the shapes of the patrons silhouetted against the deep orange glow of the flames.
An occasional drunkard roared for ale, followed by cheers as a serving wench weaved her way between the tables. The woman shrieked with laughter as she dodged eager hands which reached out to fondle her, spilling ale as one man secured a hold on her skirts, pulling her toward him to plant a loud kiss on her lips.
“Well, well—what do we have here?”
A sour stench of sweat and stale liquor grew stronger and a leering, fleshy face was thrust in front of me. Having learned my lesson earlier I remained quiet, waiting for Tom to respond.
“Please leave us,” Tom said, his voice trembling.
The man laughed and sat beside me. The stench of his body odor turned my stomach, which already churned in distaste at the greasy stew we had eaten.
“I’ll wager you’d not miss your wife, young pup,” he slurred. “I could warm her up for you.”
Poor young Tom. His face paled and he shook his head, too frightened to respond. He had grown up in a friendly village where most of the inhabitants were related to each other—brothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles. Midford, a larger town, attracted traders and travelers from further afield—strangers with no ties of family or friendship. Tom was unused to such behavior.
I drew my knife and pressed it against the man’s side. With a yelp of surprise he jerked away. but I lifted it, holding the tip of the blade against his throat. His eyes widened, but he stayed still as I twisted the knife, making a deep dent in his skin.
“I have much experience in defending myself against drunken animals,” I said coldly. “Your wife has my sympathies.”
“I meant no disrespect to you or your husband,” he said.
I increased the pressure and a small patch of red appeared on his throat, growing to form a droplet. The man whimpered, and I leaned closer, ignoring the stench of his breath, and I gave him a cold smile.
“My husband is dead,” I said. “I wonder if your own wife would care to join my widowed status. I doubt she would miss you.”
He shook his head, but I held the knife firm, the droplet spilling onto his tunic.
“What say you, Tom?” I asked. “Shall we find out if this man’s wife would miss him?”
“Begging your pardon, madam,” the man said.
“Leave us,” I said. “Crawl back to the hovel from whence you came.”
He lumbered off, doubtless on his way to accost another unsuspecting female.
“We should retire, Tom,” I said. “I’m anxious not to attract any more attention.”
****
The following morning Tom insisted I stay in our room while he made enquiries for someone willing to complete my journey to the convent. He had offered to take me himself but I didn’t want to place him in any danger in case I was being watched, particularly after the attention we had drawn the previous evening.
A few hours later Tom’s voice signaled his return, and I placed Geoffrey on the bed before calling out in response.
