Chapter 13

13

Ardneuk was less of a village and more of a town, and there were five inns there. However, that day the town had hosted a huge market, with stallholders coming from miles around to do their business, so every inn there was packed.

They had just begun to despair of finding accommodation when they reached the last one, a rather rundown place called the Ox and Plough. Gavin wrinkled his nose in distaste as he saw its almost illegible battered sign hanging askew above its equally bruised doorway.

It did not look like a very inviting place, but he reasoned that beggars could not be choosers, and recalled the barn that he had tried to sleep in before he found the Goose and Gander. God forbid he should be reduced to that again!

Maura opened the door, which rattled on its hinges as she pushed it, and stepped inside, whereupon a warm feeling of familiarity settled on her. This might not be her own tavern, but it had all the appearance, the smell, and the feel of home.

The crowd, mostly men, smelled of ale and earth, and the sound of hoarse shouting and hilarity was almost deafening. There were so many of them that they were standing almost shoulder to shoulder, and Gavin had to force his way through them, with Maura following in his wake.

They arrived at the counter at last, and Gavin put a protective arm around Maura’s shoulders, which she did not fuss about. Surely, she felt distinctly vulnerable in a multitude of men. The very sight of Gavin usually put paid to any bad intentions on their part.

However, she was surprised, when she saw the proprietor, to realise that she recognised him. At the same moment, the tall, balding middle-aged man gave her a warm, welcoming smile. “Maura!” he cried, “what a surprise! ‘Tis so good tae see ye.”

Maura was delighted that John Cunningham, a close friend of her father’s, now owned the inn. She had known him since she was a little girl, and felt much safer now that she knew she was under his roof. She also thought that they had a much better chance of finding lodging, since she was sure he would make room for her somewhere.

“Uncle John!” she cried, laughing. “I am glad tae see you too. Dae ye have a room for us?”

The big man’s face fell, and he shook his head sadly. “I have nae rooms left, Maura, I am so sorry.”

“Are ye sure, Uncle John?” she persisted. “Anythin’ will dae, just tae keep us fae freezin’.”

The man frowned, looking at her uncomfortably, and Maura immediately saw that he had been lying. “There is a room, is there no’?” she persisted, treating him to the stare that she used when she wanted to intimidate, an unwavering, penetrating glare.

John sighed, and his gaze slid away from hers. “Aye, there is, hen,” he replied. “But it only has one bed, an’ your Da wouldnae be very happy wi’ me if he knew I was lettin’ ye sleep wi’ a young man.”

Gavin spoke up then. “Maura is not an ordinary lass, sir,” he said firmly. He added the sir as an extra touch. “I respect her immensely, and I have no bad intentions towards her at all. I will be happy to sleep on the floor if you give me an extra blanket.”

John Cunningham looked at him shrewdly. He prided himself on being a good judge of character, and there was something about this big, strong man that he liked.

“Ye can have the room, then,” he said at last.

Maura smiled at him. “Thank ye, Uncle John,” she said gratefully. “We have been walkin’ a’ day an’ will be glad tae get our heads down.”

Gavin nodded to the landlord and held out his hand for the keys. When he received them, he took Maura’s hand and led her upstairs. Maura was intensely relieved; until this moment, she had not been aware of how afraid she was.

The room was on the upper floor, and it was as depressing and decrepit as the rest of the place. There were spaces between the slates in the roof which allowed rain to leak in, and buckets on the floor to catch the drips. The bed was just about wide enough for two average-sized adults, and a chamber pot was tucked underneath it.

Gavin was much bigger than average, but he would not be sleeping there anyway, he thought sadly. It was not much of a consolation, though.

A rough wooden chair stood by the side of the bed and there was a washstand underneath the tiny window, whose wooden shutters were worn and splintered. A layer of dirty straw covered the floor, and the whole place was absolutely freezing.

Gavin looked around, then thought wryly of his bedroom at Duncairn Castle, the silk brocade curtains, carved mahogany furniture, silk rugs and crystal vases of flowers. Then he reminded himself that he had almost been forced to sleep in the gutter—twice—and suddenly, his situation did not seem so bad. He laughed inwardly; now he was really seeing how the other half lived!

Maura put her sack down on the bed and glanced around her. This kind of accommodation was not strange to her at all; she would be content as long as she was warm. However, as she looked at Gavin, she realised that she could not possibly let him sleep on the floor.

He was a big, tough man to be sure, but it would be very unfair of her to let him suffer the discomfort of trying to rest on the cold, unyielding wood with only a cloak to cover himself with. The bed was not likely to be comfortable, but at least it would be warm.

“Ye cannae sleep down there,” she said flatly. “Ye will freeze. We will share the bed.”

“No.” Gavin said the word without thinking; the implications of lying next to Maura were almost unthinkable. How could he have his body pressed against her soft curves all night and stop himself from touching her in any intimate way? It was impossible, and both of them knew it.

Maura turned and looked up at him, and for the hundredth time realised how tall he was, and how he seemed to fill the small space. At that moment, something passed between them, some current of attraction that was palpable, but not acknowledged by either of them.

Maura saw every detail of his face with astonishing clarity; the gold flecks in his eyes, each one of the rust-coloured bristles on his cheeks which had not been shaved for a day, and the fullness of his lower lip. It was a beautiful, but unmistakably masculine face, each feature strong and well-defined, almost as though it had been carved from stone.

Gavin watched as her gaze roamed over his face. Her eyes, stunningly blue, were capable of great merriment or sadness, but now they darkened, full of some other emotion to which he dared not put a name. Her soft lips parted, and she sucked in a sudden deep breath that caused her full breasts to rise and fall. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull her roughly into his arms and kiss her senseless.

The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension, and for a few seconds it was as though they were waiting for something momentous to happen, before Maura abruptly turned away to unpack her belongings. The spell was broken.

Gavin sighed and began to do likewise. It was time to be practical, to establish how they were going to cope with the situation they found themselves in. Gavin spread his cloak on the floor and produced a blanket he had taken from his bedroom at the tavern, then he remembered his cushion. Its soft surface would be the only comfortable thing in his hard bed, but there was nothing he could do about that.

“I still have a wee bit o’ food here,” Maura said. “We willnae get served in the tavern tonight—it’s far too busy.”

Gavin was ravenous, but he agreed, since he was too tired to go downstairs and fight for the last few scraps of whatever food was left that evening. He sat on the floor, deciding that he might as well become accustomed to the discomfort, and let Maura sit on the chair.

They ate their bannocks, cheese, and fruit in silence, shared the last of the ale, then Maura looked around her, wondering how she could get ready for bed in private.

Gavin, seeing her awkwardness, decided to leave for a few moments to give her time to wash and relieve herself, since he was still hungry anyway. “I will see what’s left over downstairs,” he told her. “We might get a few scraps.”

Maura thanked him and sighed with relief when he left. She quickly washed as much of herself as she could, climbed into bed and pulled the thin blanket over herself up to her chin, still absolutely chilled to the bone.

She was absolutely exhausted, but too nervous to even close her eyes. The prospect of having a devastatingly attractive man in her chamber was exciting, but not conducive to a good night’s rest. Yet as she looked at Gavin’s cloak and blanket spread on the floor, Maura realised that she simply could not allow him to lie there; it would be cruel, and it made much more sense for them to keep each other warm in the narrow bed.

He arrived a moment later with two more bannocks spread with butter. “I am afraid this was all I could get,” he said sorrowfully.

“Better than nothin’,” Maura said, shrugging. They ate in silence again, then Gavin picked up his blanket, preparing to lie down on the floor.

“No, don’t.” Maura’s voice was firm as she climbed out of bed and stood up. “Get in that bed, or I will lie down beside ye on the floor, an’ we can both freeze.”

Gavin looked at her face, which was an almost comical mask of determination. Once more, he had a near-overwhelming urge to draw her into his arms, but he resisted it with a valiant effort of will. He looked at the bed, then at the floor, and sighed. Maura was right, of course. It would be madness to lie on the cold wood when he could be snuggled against her warm body, sharing her warmth.

“I hope ye can be good for just one night,” Maura said, her eyes twinkling wickedly. “Or is that too much tae ask?”

Gavin, not to be outdone, said, “I think I can behave well, but what if you find me utterly irresistible and cannot keep your hands off me?”

Maura giggled, and as he looked at her face, alight with mischief, he wondered if he could keep his word; she was almost irresistible.

He picked up the blanket from the floor and draped it over the bed before climbing in beside Maura. The heat from her body spread from her skin to his, and he closed his eyes, then breathed a sigh of contentment as he laid his head on the pillow beside hers.

“Better?” Maura asked, with a smile in her voice.

Gavin gave a soft laugh. “Yes,” he whispered, but he felt intensely awkward. The bed was against the wall, and to accommodate his large body, he almost had to press Maura against it. As well as that, her closeness was causing his manhood to stiffen uncomfortably, and he knew she could feel it. What must she think of him?

As it happened, Maura was wondering how she could conceal her own arousal from him, since her nipples had hardened into peaks under her dress, so she began to do what she did best—talk.

“What does it feel like bein’ a Laird?” she asked. “Dae ye feel powerful?”

Gavin laughed softly. “I did at first,” he answered. “Then it all just became too much for me. My parents’ death affected me badly, and I fell apart. The rest you know.”

“Did it feel good growin’ up in the castle?” Maura went on. “Did ye have lots o’ toys?”

Gavin laughed again. “I was never short of those,” he replied. “And I had my first pony at the age of six, a little strawberry roan. She was adorable, but the first time I was lifted onto her back, I was terrified. It seemed like such a long way down to the ground! I remember how my hands shook as I held on to the saddle pommel and I screamed to be taken off. But as the days passed, I became used to everything, and I was brave enough to sit on her back while she walked around the stable.

After a while, I took her outside, and then, when I was confident enough, we broke into a trot. As I grew, the ponies became bigger too. My horse now is called Sable, but I doubt I will ever see him again.” His voice was infinitely sad, then he abruptly changed the subject. “What about you, Maura? What was it like growing up in Duncairn?”

There was silence for a moment as Maura paused to think, then she said, “It was mostly happy. I had a lot o’ friends, an’ we would run about makin’ mischief an’ annoyin’ the butcher especially. He was a real sourpuss an’ we a’ hated him.

One day, me an’ some o’ my pals waited till he went out tae the market, sneaked intae his shop an’ pinched about six pounds o’ his best pork sausages. We made a fire in the forest an’ ate it before he got back, so there was naethin’ tae prove it was us, but he knew. He tried tae make our lives a misery after that, but my Da was a hard man an’ when he threatened tae beat him up, he soon shut his mouth. He was such a mean so-an’-so he wouldnae employ anybody tae help him—well, he had tae after that!”

Gavin laughed, and Maura smiled as she looked backwards into the past.

“I was a favourite o’ the minister’s wife,” she went on. “Her name was Mistress MacNeill, an’ she taught me how tae read an’ count. She picked me out specially, an’ tae this day I dinnae know why.”

“I do,” Gavin said firmly. “She recognised your intelligence and knew you could make something wonderful out of yourself—and you did.”

“What?” Maura scoffed. “I run a tavern wi’ my drunk uncle. I wouldnae call that makin’ somethin’ o’ myself.”

“You are a much better woman than you give yourself credit for, Maura,” Gavin said softly. Something in the tone of his voice made her turn to look at him. Their faces were so close that she could not see him properly, so she propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at him.

“You are looking after all the orphans,” he told her. “And trying to make life better for them. That is an extraordinary thing to do. Some of them have been adopted and acquired new families because of you, so never think you are just a tavern wench. You are more than that, much more; you are intelligent, quick-witted, and funny, as well as very beautiful.”

Maura was astonished. It had never occurred to her that anyone would consider what she was doing with the orphans praiseworthy in any way. “Thank you,” she almost whispered.

“I hope, when I manage to get my Lairdship back, that I can help you.” Gavin reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair from Maura’s forehead behind her ear, and the touch of his fingers on her skin made her whole body tingle.

When she spoke again, her voice was husky with emotion. “An’ will Elspeth no’ mind if ye dae that?” she asked.

“I do not care if she minds or not,” he replied in a somewhat offhand manner. “I am prepared to make a sacrifice for the good of my family and my clan, and that is why I am marrying Elspeth. I’m not in love with her, Maura. I will treat her with the respect and affection a man owes his wife, and we will hopefully have children. That’s my duty, and I will do it.”

“It doesnae seem like much o’ a sacrifice tae me,” Maura observed, with a soft laugh. “Ye are gettin’ your castle an’ estate back if everythin’ works out the way ye want.”

“But it is.” Gavin rolled over and gently pressed Maura flat on the bed, then propped himself on his elbow and looked down deeply into her eyes. “Because Elspeth is not the one I want to be with. There is only one woman who will satisfy me.”

Maura was about to ask who the woman was, but the words did not leave her mouth, since Gavin had captured it with his in a tender but passionate kiss that left both of them trembling with need.

Gavin could tell by her response, eager but untutored, that she had never been kissed properly before; when he parted her lips to ease his tongue inside her mouth, she started and gave a little whimper before surrendering herself to him.

It was like something out of a dream, she thought, as she felt his lips caressing hers with infinite gentleness. They were so soft, so unlike what she had imagined in her dreams. Her whole body was thrilling with a pleasure she had never experienced before, particularly in her most private place, which was beginning to flood with moisture and throb with a sweet pulse.

When he drew away, he was unprepared for her expression of astonishment as she stared at him with wide, startled eyes.

“Did you like that?” Gavin asked, smiling. “Because I did.”

Then Maura smiled. “Aye, I did,” she replied huskily. “I was a bit surprised, an’ I have never been kissed before. It wasnae what I imagined at a’.”

“Was it better?” Gavin asked hopefully.

“Much better,” Maura answered. “I never imagined anythin’ could feel like that, Gavin.”

“Neither did I,” he confessed. He had kissed many women, but had never been in love with any of them till now. “Maura, what if I just ran away and left all this mess behind me? Would you come with me? We could be so happy.”

Maura hesitated for a moment. She was sorely tempted to say yes, but Gavin was talking with his heart, not his head. She cupped his face in her hands and looked into the eyes that she loved.

“I wish we could, Gavin,” she said softly. “But where would we live? How would we feed ourselves? An’ my feelings dinnae matter because I am only one person, an’ ye have hundreds tae look after. Ye have tae put your duty first, or people will suffer. I dinnae want that on my conscience.”

Gavin nodded slowly, knowing that she was right.

“But there is one thing ye can do for me,” she murmured.

“Anything,” Gavin whispered, smiling at her lovingly.

Maura kissed his lips softly. “Make love tae me,” she said.