Page 64 of Surrendering to her Highland Captor
“Aye, I have heard of the Kincaids,” the hefty barman answered, sliding over a fresh mug of ale. “The last news that came through was that the young Laird was venturing North of his lands to find allies. I suppose that Englishman is still giving them some trouble.”
Downing the glass in one go, James slammed the cup on the counter and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, replenished by the news as much as he had been by the drink.
“Thank ye,” he replied before rushing out the door again.
Two hours later and he still had caught no sign of the Kincaids, but he wasn’t ready to give up hope. Not yet, at least. Without any other information, like who Taryn’s friends mighthave gone to for allies or even who their past allies were, James felt as though he was riding blind.
Flakes of fresh snow fell from the afternoon skies, powdering his hair and the roads. If he didn’t catch a trail quickly, any signs of the search party would be long gone. He swore under his breath and dug his heels into the sides of his horse, spurring the beast on, faster and faster.
As his eyes scanned the trail, he contemplated if he had made a mistake in changing course on the word of a tavern keeper. Perhaps he should have gone directly to the Kincaid Castle instead of trying to find them on the road.
James shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. He didn’t have time to change directions a second time. And the Kincaid lands were at least another day’s ride south. Besides, Taryn had been certain that her friends would come for her. She had begged him to keep them safe. And if anyone knew what they were doing, it would be Taryn. He had to trust that she was right and that he wasn’t going on a fool’s errand.
Saying a prayer for more help, James pressed on.
Several hours later, he entered the next village. His body ached from riding for so long. He needed to stretch his legs and give his horse the chance to rest as well. The sun was beginning to set, and he hadn’t found a trail yet. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face just as his stomach began to rumble with hunger.
“A quick meal for both of us and then it is back on the road,” he told his horse.
After handing his stallion off to the blacksmith for tending, James turned for the tavern. He had lost track of how many he had stopped in, asking for information, hoping for a lead. This time, as he knocked the snow from his boots before entering the tavern, he didn’t have any hope left. He was here, not to tryto ferret out any tiny details that might point him in the right direction, but merely to feed himself and his horse.
Rather than walking right up to the tavern owner and starting his now practiced line of inquiry, James slunk into a table in the back corner near the hearth. Slowly, the fire worked at warming him from the cold. A waitress with a keen eye brought over a large mug of ale and a steaming bowl of stew. With a grumbled “Thanks,” James tucked into the food.
Conversations flowed freely over his head. Trying his best to pay no attention to them, James focused on his meal. His thoughts turned over and over his plan. It had all seemed so simple; find Taryn’s friends, get them to convince Laird McGregor to fight the Baron, save Taryn’s life. But the longer he thought about it, the more naive he realized his plan had been. He had wasted almost an entire day merely trying to find the people to help him. He could have been back at the castle, trying to convince the Laird himself or coming up with a way to sneak Taryn out of the prison and somewhere far enough away that the baron would no longer be a problem. He could have…
“I mean it, David! I swear to ye, I have never seen the horse’s equal.”
“Ye mean to tell me, a warhorse unlike any ye have kent before, ambled into yer stables last night?”
James’ ears perked up as two old friends took the table next to him. They were talking so loudly that James didn’t consider it was eavesdropping. The entire tavern could hear their every word without trying. At least, that was what he told himself as he leaned closer and set his emptied bowl down.
“That is what I am sayin’! Mary said it belonged to someone who checked into her inn last night. I told her to charge them extra for all the hay that horse ate, but she would nae do it.”
“Ye are nae truly upset about the food, are ye, Angus?”
“Of course nae. I am angry that she did nae let me shake the hand of the man who rode the beast. I had at least a dozen questions to ask, and now I’ll never get the answers.”
James all but jumped out of his seat and rushed to the bar. Pulling out one coin more than was necessary to cover his dinner, he slid the money to the man behind the bar and leaned over.
“Where can I find a room to rent? Is there an inn nearby?”
“Just down the road. The yellow building on yer left. Big sign hangin’ from the porch. Ye cannae miss it.”
Rushing out of the tavern, James followed the man’s instructions to the inn, a new spring in his step.
The Kincaid Clan had been known for their stables. It was said they put out the best warhorses in all the Highlands. Tall and strong, bred for battle. Some said the men would even come to train the horses if you were lucky enough to buy one. But the horses had disappeared when the clan did. A beast like that hadn’t been seen in the area for years. It had to be Lachlan and Aila. He was so close, he just knew it.
A bell jingled over the doorway as James pushed inside the cozy-looking inn. Warm, worn rugs in swirling patterns covered the wooden floors. Gleaming banisters lined the stairs. Framed paintings boasting of the most important guests the inn had kept hung all over the walls. And behind the welcoming counter, a woman with gray streaked hair stood, with a smile as warm as the rest of the establishment
“Good evenin’, lad. Can I offer ye a room?”
James crossed the room, his boots thudding on the floor with the determination that coursed anew through his bones. Shaking his head with a polite smile of his own, James looked down at the woman, leaning on his forearm on the counter, doing his very best to charm her.
“Nay, ma’am. But I am hoping ye can help me.”
He lowered his eyelids and drawled out his words, trying to win her over. Before he managed to get his response out of his mouth, the woman burst out laughing.
“Goodness me. It has been a long while since someone tried to sweet talk his way into anything with me. I hate to tell ye this, lad, but that does nae work on me. Trust me,” she chuckled, wiping at her eyes. “Ye should ask my husband.”
