“’Tis sorry I am about the place. But I don’t think our horses will make it to the next inn.”
“A cockfight?”
“Aye, a few inns along the way hold them for the townspeople’s entertainment.”
“That’s terrible.”
“For the cocks, I imagine. The men seem to enjoy it.”
She would never understand men. To stand around and watch two roosters fight each other to the death was ridiculous. Men had the most peculiar interests. A question jumped into her head. “Do you like cockfights?”
“Nay. I think it a barbarous sport. If I’m to see an animal killed ’twill be for my dinner. But I wouldn’t say too much about it here, lass.” He gestured toward a group of heavily drinking men shouting at each other. “The men seem quite ready for the game. In case yer interested, the sport is a couple hundred years old. The book The Commendation of Cocks and Cock Fighting was published in 1607. However, during Magellan’s voyage of discovery of the Philippines in 1521 he witnessed cockfighting. ’ Twas documented by Antonio Pigafetta.”
She gaped at him. “You have all this information stored somewhere up there in your brain?”
He shrugged and cast her a boyish smile. Another point for Braeden McKinnon. Not that she was keeping score, of course. It just interested her how civilized, intelligent, and respectable the man was.
Anxious to get her mind off her traveling companion, she said, “I find I am still tired, so I will be happy to have dinner and retire to my room. Perhaps we can start out earlier tomorrow to make up for the shortened day today?”
“I will tell the innkeeper to have the horses ready at dawn.”
“Good evening, my lady. Mr. McClune tells me ye want two rooms?” The innkeeper’s wife regarded them with raised eyebrows, and Sarah immediately felt the disapproval in the woman’s eyes. Here she was being judged by a tradeswoman for traveling alone with a man who obviously wasn’t her husband, or they would be sharing a room.
Sarah nodded. “Yes, please. We had to leave my maid behind at the last inn. She was suffering an illness and couldn’t travel.” Now why in heaven’s name did she feel the need to explain herself to a serving woman?
She looked helplessly at Braeden who didn’t seem the least bit concerned. She had an inane desire to kick him in the shins.
“Well, if you will follow me, my lady, I can get ye settled upstairs in yer room.” The innkeeper’s wife started up the stairs, then spoke over her shoulder to Braeden. “We have a room on this floor where ye can sleep.”
Sarah almost laughed out loud at the woman’s statement. Apparently Mrs. McClune was not going to countenance any shenanigans under her nose.
The inn had quieted by the time they had refreshed themselves and were settled at a lovely table near the fireplace. Raucous shouts from behind the inn could be heard, but Sarah blocked them out. Mrs. McClune brought them a basket of warm, fragrant bread, a crock of butter, and two bowls of the most wonderful lamb stew Sarah had ever tasted.
Delicious food and the two glasses of wine she’d consumed had her more than ready to seek her bed. The little bit of a nap she’d received that afternoon had helped, but still she felt tired to her bones.
“I’ll see ye to yer room, lass.” Braeden stood and held his hand out. “Ye look like yer about to fall asleep in yer tea.”
“Yes, that is quite true.” She took hold of his hand, and they walked upstairs. Sarah glanced around as they made their way from the table to the staircase, afraid Mrs. McClune would jump out from behind a door and shout “aha!” at them.
She comforted herself with the fact that they only had another two, maybe three, nights before they would reach Bedlay Castle. There she would be safe from the man walking behind her and the feelings he coaxed from her untried body. She needed to stop being so aware of Braeden. The warmth from his closeness reached her back, making her