Free Kill or Be Kilt by Victoria Roberts Page B

whelp. The man’s eyes widened when Ian pulled him roughly to his feet. When the arse raised his hands in defense, the other men stepped away from the table. Ian was amused when the man’s “friends” no longer wanted to have any part of him.
    â€œI was only jesting! I’m a sot who has had too many!” The man hesitated, and the corners of his lips slowly lifted into a smile. “Tell me. Have you already bedded her then?”
    Ian rammed his fist into the man’s face. When the whelp fell onto the table with a thud, Ian patted the idiot on the head. “Now there’s a good laddie.” His eyes darkened, and he glared at the men who remained standing. “Anyone else have something to say, or mayhap ye donna understand my words, eh?”
    The men paled, shaking their heads nervously.
    Ian walked back to the table and grabbed his scabbard. On his way out of the hall with Fagan, he paused, handing the woman from the kitchen a coin. “The stew was delicious, and I apologize for the mess.”

Six
    Elizabeth opened her eyes and rolled onto her back. Her entire body protested. Still weary from traveling, she wasn’t ready to throw back the blankets and start a new day. Even her less than desirable room didn’t provide her with enough encouragement to put one foot on the floor.
    Other than the bed, there was a chest of drawers with a looking glass and a small sitting area with a table and two chairs. Her disappointment returned when she knew her accommodations at the palace would have been on a much grander scale. But she felt guilty thinking that way. She was only considering herself, and her poor traveling companions hadn’t wanted to be here in the least.
    When memories returned of the abhorrent behavior of her countrymen in the dining hall last night, she fought a war of emotions. Those men were quick to judge someone and something they knew nothing about. Frankly, they were ignorant, and she had no tolerance for stupidity.
    There was a knock at the door.
    â€œElizabeth, are ye awake?” asked Ruairi from the other side.
    â€œYes, but I’m not yet dressed.”
    â€œWe’re going below stairs to break our fast. Throw something on and come with us. Ye can always return to change your clothes before court if ye wish. I’ll wait for ye.”
    Elizabeth grudgingly rose from the bed. After seeing to her personal needs, she donned a simple day dress and her silk slippers. She approached the washbowl, and the looking glass that hung above the chest of drawers returned a vision of red, tired eyes and unruly hair. Wetting a cloth, she wiped her face with cool water. If that didn’t wake her up then nothing else would. She patted her skin with a drying cloth and smoothed her long locks with her hand. That would have to do for now. At least she was presentable. When she opened the door, Ruairi was leaning against the wall.
    â€œI’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
    â€œDinna fash, lass. Fagan and Ian are below stairs. Did ye sleep well?”
    â€œAs soon as my head touched the pillow. I didn’t move all night.” She closed the door behind her, and he chuckled.
    â€œI’m glad to hear it.”
    â€œAnd you?”
    â€œThe same.”
    Elizabeth knew her brother-in-law probably slept with one eye open, but he’d never admit it. They descended the stairs and entered the dining room where Fagan and Ian stood upon her approach. Only a handful of men sat at the other tables, none of whom were the obnoxious ones from last night.
    â€œGood morn, lass,” said Fagan.
    Ian gave her a brief nod. “ Madainn mhath. ”
    â€œGood morning to you both.”
    â€œOch, aye. Ye’re definitely going to stop a few hearts at court. Ye look verra bonny in that dress,” said Fagan.
    She stilled. “I’m not even dressed for court, and you’ve seen me wear this many times before.”
    He lowered his voice.