Page 10 of Bound to a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #8)

CHAPTER NINE

A ch, 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.”

Isabeau knew she could do better than him. For one, people weren’t scared of her like they were of Tiernan. It was not just that, though; she knew how to talk to people and make them act as she pleased. Her brothers had their tactics and their plans and their swords; all she had all her life were words, sometimes sweet and flattering and others subtly scathing.

“I would, actually,” she said as she slipped out of her seat. She paused by the table and downed some of her ale. It was far from the smooth, sweet wine she was served at home, but it would have to do.

She then melted into the crowd, weaving through the people as she looked around for her target—a man who was alone or perhaps with one more man near him, someone who would be seeking company and was already a few drinks in. And there, in the far corner of the room, she found her target.

From their table, Tiernan watched with amusement as Isabeau approached a man at the other end of the room. Isabeau had been awfully confident that she could get information out of people easier than he could, but she was in for a rude awakening. Perhaps the people in Castle MacGregor spoke openly to her, flattering her and fawning over her because she was the laird’s sister and they wanted to get in her good graces. There, however, she was nothing more than an anonymous girl; a pretty girl, for sure, and someone who several men may approach with hopes of spending a night with, but to whom no one would give any information. Those people were guarded, fearful of Constantine.

Isabeau approached the man with a smile and a cup of ale that she had swiped from another table, and Tiernan couldn’t help but laugh.

She slid into the seat across from him so Tiernan could only see her back, her shapely, square shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, her hair falling over them and shining under the light of the candles. Even from the back, she was alluring, and it was then that he began to fear that perhaps he had misjudged her.

Men were idiots. They would speak to any pretty girl.

Before long, not only did Isabeau have the man laughing and speaking animatedly to her—although what he was saying, Tiernan couldn’t hear—but she had also somehow gathered a small crowd around her, entertaining them all animatedly. She laughed and gave them small, fleeting touches, gestured wildly with her hands, and had them all laughing along with her.

The strange part was that it was not only men. There were women in her little group, too, all of them thoroughly charmed by Isabeau.

What in God’s bones is happenin’ here?

After a while, she gracefully and subtly excused herself, and even after she was gone, the group continued to laugh together, as if her presence had been enough to bind them forever. Then, she kept flitting about the room, inserting herself in conversations and approaching other people.

Well, I’ll be damned.

Tiernan could only hope that she was, in fact, gathering information and not simply entertaining the locals. He was curious to see what she had managed to find out, if anything, but if her approach worked, then he would congratulate her. It was a performance unlike anything he had ever seen and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was a skill unique to her or if all learned ladies knew how to act like this.

It wasn’t until she was the one being approached that Tiernan was concerned with the number of people around her. He didn’t like the look of the man went came close to her; he didn’t like that smile, like a baring of his teeth.

He was already out of his seat by the time he was proven right. The man went too close to Isabeau, pressing her against a nearby wall as she backtracked and tried to avoid him. There was no way for her to sidestep him, and when he saw his hand reach for her hip, resting there as though he had any right to touch her, Tiernan lost any sense of control.

He didn’t know when or how he managed to reach them through the crowd. All he knew was the slight sting of pain on his knuckles that would later blossom into a bruise as his fist connected with the man’s cheek, sending him flying to the side. Tiernan could hear nothing but the rush of blood to his head, his ears buzzing with it, his gaze zeroed in on the man who was quickly recovering and pushing himself upright. Distantly, he could tell Isabeau was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear any of her words, so focused was he on the man before him that everything else seemed to melt away, the world narrowing down to that small point of existence where there was only him.

The man came at him with force, barreling into him as he tried to use all his mass to fight Tiernan. Being larger, Tiernan stumbled back but didn’t fall, planting his feet on the floor and pushing the man back. Around them, the crowd had gathered, watching them as they them a wide berth, fearful that if they approached to separate them, they would be drawn into the fight.

And they had every reason to be fearful. If anyone tried to get between Tiernan and that man, they too would suffer his wrath.

The man swung at him, his fist flying towards Tiernan’s face. He had just enough time to lean back and avoid the blow, before he responded with one of his own, hitting the man in the stomach. With a groan, the man curled in on himself, but then, just when Tiernan expected it the least, his leg kicked out and hit him in the shin.

It was a surprisingly harsh blow and a very effective move. Tiernan lost his balance, pain exploding over his leg, and he cursed under his breath as he planted his hands on the floor to push himself back up.

“That’s it,” he growled. “I’m goin’ tae kill ye.”

“Tiernan!” shouted Isabeau.

Before he could attack the man again, though, a strong hand clamped over his shoulder and pulled him back. Tiernan struggled, but the man holding him was not only larger and stronger, but also clearly used to dealing with such fights.

The barkeep.

“Out o’ me tavern,” the man shouted, tossing Tiernan right out. The other man followed, being thrown to the ground next to him, and then Isabeau was escorted out as well, much more gently than the other two.

Tiernan lay on the ground for a few moments, catching his breath. He was suddenly aware of every pebble, every twig under his back, all the points of contact between the earth and his body. Rage still coursed through him, wave after wave threatening to pull him back under into a frenzy, but when Isabeau came to stand over him, her arms crossed as she narrowed her eyes into a glare, he found some of it dissipating.

Slowly, he turned his gaze to the man, who was still next to him, also on the ground. When their eyes met, though, he scrambled to his feet and fled, fearful of what would come if he stayed too close.

Tiernan let his eyes fall shut with a sigh. The breeze hit his cheeks and gave him some much needed clarity. The sky above was bright, a clear blue he hadn’t seen in days.

“Was that truly necessary?” Isabeau demanded. “Did ye have tae respond with violence like this?”

“He was touchin’ ye,” was all Tiernan could offer. He couldn’t explain to her just how easy it was for him to fall into madness in that moment. The mere memory of the man’s hands on her was enough to bring that mad rage back and he had half a mind to chase him down the street and teach him another lesson.

“Aye,” said Isabeau. “He was. An’ I am glad ye stopped him, but there were several other ways ye could have done that. If he had only seen that we are together, he would have left. He wouldnae have made any trouble.”

Tiernan could hear the accusation in her tone. Ye’re the one who made trouble , she seemed to be saying; he was the one who had learnt to respond with violence and who, even now, even after he claimed to have changed himself and his life, was still doing all the talking with his fists.

He didn’t want to admit that maybe she was right. He had learned to hit first and ask questions later for a reason. It was safer that way; it was the one thing that had kept him alive all this time.

Isabeau couldn’t understand that. She didn’t know what it meant to live with the shadow of death over one’s shoulder. She didn’t know the importance of doing anything in one’s power in order to stay at the top of the food chain.

With a sigh, she offered her hand to him, like a laurel. Tiernan took it and stood, dusting himself off as best he could.

“Dinnae scare the locals,” Isabeau told him. “Or they will never speak tae us.”

“They seem tae be fine speakin’ tae ye,” he pointed out. “What was all that in the tavern?”

Though he could tell Isabeau was still angry from the incident, she gave a small chuckle. “I told ye, I have me ways. Nobles are… obstinate creatures. They dae as they please an’ they ken they can get away with it. So, one must learn tae deal with them.”

An’ in dealin’ with them, she has learnt tae control them.

It was a surprising revelation for Tiernan. Never before would he have thought that a creature as sweet and angelic as Isabeau could display such cold precision, and yet it was precisely that which made her so alluring. She wasn’t as innocent as she seemed. Many may have even taken her for a fool, nothing but a simple, spoiled girl who knew nothing about the world. Even he had come close to making that mistake.

But now he could see just how wrong he had been to underestimate her. Isabeau was not as naive as she seemed. She was a quiet force of nature.