Page 26 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)

A nora vibrated with curiosity and excitement as they walked along the busy lane toward Madam Ruby’s brothel.

The anticipation of seeing something typically forbidden to her thrilled her, but she needed to stay calm and not attract attention.

She took long strides, as instructed by Hunter, and enjoyed the sensation of being unhindered by the swishing fabric of a gown.

Hunter had told her the best approach was the direct approach. Two men walking through the front door of a brothel in the middle of the day would garner less attention than two men trying to sneak in the back door of said brothel.

“Heavier steps. Slouch a bit,” Hunter instructed in a low voice. He’d also smudged her cheeks with dirt before they rode through the town gates after informing her that her skin was too perfect for a man’s.

It was a new experience to walk in the light of day in a crowded lane and go unnoticed.

Nobody gave her any attention, other than stepping to the side to get out of her way, which she attributed to her menacing-looking companion.

What was most remarkable was that she didn’t have to endure the leers and unnerving stares from men that always made her feel self-conscious and vulnerable.

She was tall for a woman, taller than some men, and she often garnered unwanted attention because of it.

But as man, she was no one special, and she loved it!

Loved the anonymity of being inconspicuous and the idea that she could do whatever she pleased because no one watched and judged her every move.

Except for Hunter.

“We should have gone in the back,” he grumbled at her.

“Why?” She’d done nothing to disguise her voice, so she coughed and tried again in a lower pitch. “Why?”

“Men don’t move that gracefully. People are looking at us.”

“No, they are not. And if they do, they will be looking at you. You are quite intimidating, you know.” She lifted her head just enough to peer out from under the hood of the mantle she wore to look at the people walking in the lane.

“Thank you for the praise.”

“What praise?”

“That I’m intimidating.”

She almost laughed but held it in so as not to attract additional attention. “It wasn’t meant as praise.”

Hunter nudged her with his shoulder and nearly knocked her off balance.

She tipped her head down to hide the smile that pulled at her lips.

She’d seen men nudge each other in the same way before, as if to bump the other man’s shoulder was a signal of appreciation.

Barbaric as it was, it seemed to be a gesture of acceptance, a sign of approval, and Hunter had just bestowed the honor of it upon her.

She felt her chest expand with pride, only to be deflated in the next instant.

Hunter bumped her in the shoulder again. She looked up to acknowledge his gesture only to see him point toward the door of a tavern on the other side of the lane, saying, “This way.”

Not a gesture of comradery, then. It was a prod to get her moving in the right direction. And a reminder that she did not understand men as well as she thought.

She surveyed the front of the building, which looked like any other tavern with an inn on the upper floors, heavy timber framing, and shuttered windows. She couldn’t say what she expected a brothel to look like, but it wasn’t this. She expected something more…momentous.

They entered the tavern and hesitated while their eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room after being in the midday sun. She reached her hand up to push her hood back, then ran her fingers under the edge of the coif to ensure no stray hairs had come loose.

“Quit fidgeting,” Hawk warned. He scanned the room as he walked toward the long sideboard of tankards in front of a row of kegs. He pointed at a table in the corner. “Sit. I’ll bring ale. Don’t forget to slouch and God’s teeth, don’t fidget.”

Perplexed, she did as instructed. She hadn’t expected to linger in the tavern, but did not question why as she slipped onto a wooden stool behind a table pressed into a dark corner near a large hearth with a steaming cauldron hanging over the flames.

Several heavy, soot-coated beams supported the ceiling, hanging low enough that Hunter had to dip his head to avoid hitting it against them.

The rich scent of a roast simmering in juices reached her nose and set her stomach to rumbling. They’d not eaten on the journey to Oswestry, and the hunk of bread she’d eaten before they left her home in the morning was long gone.

Hunter slid a tankard across the table to her, then sat on another stool with his back to the wall.

From their vantage point, they could see everyone in the main room as well as into the room that extended toward the back of the building.

Only a handful of tables in each room had people sitting at them.

Evening was still some hours away and she expected the tavern would fill up as the night wore on.

“Is that your stomach I hear?” Hunter asked after a particularly loud growl emanated from Anora.

“It has been hours since we’ve last eaten,” she said defensively. “Are you not hungry?”

He shook his head.

“How can you thrive on so little sleep or food? I rarely see you rest or eat.”

Instead of answering her question, he rose and retrieved two wooden bowls and a loaf of bread from the sideboard, then set another coin on the edge of the board. The proprietor nodded and grunted his acknowledgment as he lifted an empty keg and started toward the back door with it.

Returning, Hunter set a bowl on the table and slid it to her with a chunk of the bread.

His own bowl he filled from the cauldron hanging in the hearth, then sat down and dipped his bread into the steaming gravy.

He stabbed a piece of the meat and brought it to his mouth but stopped chewing mid-bite.

“Don’t look at me that way,” he said between gritted teeth, his lips barely moved as his gaze darted around the tavern. “Get your own roast. It would look odd if I served you.”

The blush that covered her cheeks was not very manly when she realized her blunder. Of course, she must serve herself.

They did not speak as they ate their meal and drank the ale, which was an unexpectedly good brew.

Anora was still not sure about the reason for the delay, but she didn’t ask questions as she watched Hunter and waited.

He must have good reason for his actions.

They finished eating, and still Hunter did not make a move to go upstairs.

Leaning closer to Hunter, she asked in a low voice, “Are we waiting for something? Is there a reason we are not going to Madam Ruby yet?”

He glanced at her from the corner of his narrowed eyes.

“I am debating the wisdom of bringing you to this place.” Hunter’s eyes continuously scanned the room as he spoke.

“I have a mind to leave you here while I go speak to Madam Ruby.” He turned to look at her directly.

“But I fear you will find more trouble if left alone.”

“I’ve come this far; I will not be deterred.

” She tired of this argument. Hunter had to know by now that it was a fruitless endeavor to try to sway her.

“I have questions to ask Madam Ruby about the baron. And I want to know if she’s seen similar pendants in the past thirteen years that she may have sold to another goldsmith. ”

“She does not pry, and she doesn’t like questions,” Hunter said. “She listens and she remembers. As do all of the women who work for her.”

Anora tipped her head to the side and studied Hunter.

“You are quite well-versed in Madam Ruby and her women.” She’d meant for her tone to be nonchalant, as though just making an observation, but even she could hear the snide undertone.

Jealousy was an ugly thing, and she had thought herself immune to it, but obviously she was not. At least not when it came to Hunter.

Before he could respond, a door creaked open at the far end of the back room and a man stumbled out, walked unsteadily across the tavern, and crossed near their table.

His clothes were filthy, and he stank of ale, onions, and sweat.

Anora held her breath to minimize the sickly stench as he passed by.

He flashed a gap-toothed leer at her and Hunter, the few teeth he had black with rot, then mumbled something about a conquest before proceeding out the front door of the tavern.

“Did he come from above stairs? Did one of the women have to…” She didn’t even know how to finish the question. It sickened her to think of anyone having to endure the man’s stench for any length of time at an even closer proximity than what she just experienced.

“Aye.” Hunter’s tone was flat. “Did you think all the men handsome and pleasing to the eyes and nose?”

Anora hadn’t allowed much thought about the men who would visit a brothel.

She supposed some men would not be very appealing, and she knew some could be violent, but she’d not thought in detail about what that would be like for the women until this moment.

A shudder shivered through her body as she realized the women likely did not have the option to say no to servicing any of those men.

“You don’t have to do this,” Hunter muttered. He studied her intently with a deep crease of concern between his brows. “I can ask your questions for you.”

A torrent of doubt flooded her. She had been excited and enthralled, but now she felt sick with dread. Yet, there was too much to lose if she did not see this through. “I cannot turn back now.”

Hunter held her gaze for a long breath then nodded once. A welcomed sensation of calm washed through her and she was grateful Hunter was here with her.

He downed the last of the ale in his tankard and set it to the side. “Let’s go.”