Page 3 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“God’s eyes, nay,” groaned David, seeing the clothes of the wet woman. She was a noble! And as if it weren’t bad enough to knock a woman to the ground, this one would probably have his head or at least throw him in prison for what just happened to her. “I’m so sorry.” He rushed over and helped the lady up, almost getting trampled by a tall man wearing a long cloak who came up behind her. The man carried a crying and moaning woman in his arms. All the time the rain continued to pelt down upon them.

“Sorry, we’re full. No one else can enter.” Dirk told the man, blocking the doorway with his bulky body. “You’ll have to find another tavern.”

“But I have a woman in need here. Now get out of my way,” growled the man.

“We have no more room,” Dirk continued to deny him access.

“She’s in pain,” cried the woman whom David had just helped to her feet. “We need a dry room and a physician quickly.” She pulled away from David and ran to the door, trying to push Dirk out of the way but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let them enter, Dirk,” instructed David. “Three more people won’t matter much. These ones are nobles.”

“Nobles?” Dirk’s craggy brows raised in surprise and he took a closer look at the newcomers. Oh, I see. All right.” He quickly moved aside and held out his arm, motioning for them to enter. As soon as he did, the woman who had fallen earlier entered the inn, clearing the way for the man carrying the woman in need. David wondered what the woman’s malady was and hoped it wasn’t anything contagious.

“What else can go wrong?” grumbled David. He took a step toward the tavern, but was pushed aside as an armed guard led a procession of people into his tavern that also served as an inn. “Now, wait a minute,” he protested, not liking the fact that he, the owner, was just pushed aside.

“We’re with them,” said one of the women, peeking out at him from under her hood, motioning with her eyes to the people who had already entered his establishment.

That’s when David realized there were another three women plus two guards and a servant boy with the traveling party. They all carried large leather bags filled with belongings. One of the guards even had a trunk in his arms. They acted as if they were here to stay, even though his rooms were rented and full. Things were quickly going from bad to worse.

“Where can I stable the horses?” asked the servant boy, holding the reins of four horses that whinnied and pulled, afraid of the storm. The boy’s body shook from the cold. “We’re also in need of someone to fix a broken wheel on our wagon. We left it down the road.”

Standing in the pouring rain, David felt as if he wanted to scream. One problem after another kept stacking up today, only making him regret taking over the inn at his father’s demise a year ago.

“Do you have the means to pay for stabling the horses?” David calmly asked the boy, pushing a dripping wet strand of his wavy hair from his eyes.

“Lord Gar holds the money pouch,” the boy answered with a shrug. “You’d have to speak to him about it, I suppose.”

David’s eyes drifted back to the inn. “Lord Gar,” he repeated the name, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. “Do you mean the big man who was carrying the woman?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“Of course, it is,” David said under his breath, letting out a long sigh. There was no use fighting any of this because it wouldn’t make a difference. He raised his arm and pointed. “The stable is out back of the inn. You and the guards can stay there for the night but it can get rough with some of the drunken patrons wandering over. Therefore, I don’t suggest the women stay out there too. Not unless you and the other men guard them. However, I warn you, I won’t be responsible if they get hurt.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. One of the guards rode ahead to secure us rooms,” the boy tried to explain, looking back, trying to still the horses.

“Well, even so, I’m sure my cousin told him we don’t have a single vacant room tonight because that is the truth. This storm has brought every traveler, beggar, and straggler from here to Cornwall to my door this day. Now, go before I change my mind about giving your party shelter.”

David walked back into his establishment, glancing around the crowded room, but didn’t see the newcomers anywhere.

“They went into the kitchen,” his uncle told him from his chair positioned by the door. “I heard Farley yelling at them that they didn’t belong in there. That cook is mad. You’d better get in there before he starts swinging his cleaver at them.”

“Thanks, Uncle Joe.” David hightailed it through the crowd, rushing into the kitchen. He came to an abrupt halt just inside by what he saw. The big man called Lord Gar was about to lay the ailing woman down on the wooden table. The handmaid and another girl hurriedly cleared an area.

“Nay! Don’t put her there,” shouted David’s cook, Farley, waving his meat cleaver in the air. Farley was a small, older man who used to work for the town’s baker before his temper got him fired one day. Since he knew how to bake the best bread and David was in need of a cook as well as a baker, he’d hired him. “I prepare food here!” Farley rushed over and slammed the cleaver down into the wooden table, right where Gar was about to place the girl.

“You fool! You almost hit her,” spat Gar through gritted teeth. “I’ll have you imprisoned for that.”

“Nay! This won’t solve anything.” The woman whom David had accidentally knocked down outside stepped in front of the man named Lord Gar and held out her arms, keeping the men apart. “Besides, Sage can’t birth a baby on such a hard table. We need to find her better accommodations.”

“Birth a baby, did you say?” David repeated in surprise. His gaze darted over to the girl in the man’s arms. Her cloak had fallen aside and he could now see the large bump at her waist.

“Martine is right,” said the other noblewoman. “Gar, we need to find a bed for Sage.” They all turned and looked directly at David.

“Nay,” he said, shaking his wet head. “I’m sorry, but I am absolutely full. Every one of my rooms is already occupied by at least a half dozen people.”

“Certainly you can make room for us.” The noblewoman he’d helped to her feet sauntered over, pushing her hood from her head and staring directly into his eyes. He felt his throat tighten just seeing her beauty. He couldn’t speak. The girl who seemed no more than nineteen or twenty years of age held her chin high, seeming to have the composure of a much older noblewoman. Her long dark hair was loose, the curly locks falling down nearly to her waist. Smooth and pale skin graced her round face which somehow only reminded him of a pixie. Her lips were full and the color of ripe berries. They turned down into a sultry pout. That intrigued him and only made him wonder how they tasted. This mysterious woman was stirring his loins from just a look.

“Who are you?” he found himself asking softly.