The Crimson Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

felt like hot coals in their sockets, and he was more than a bit wobbly. Shoving the cup away, he grimaced. Perhaps he’d better forgo any more ale himself.
    Letting out an exasperated sigh, he turned to look once more at the door that led to the sleeping chambers above the inn. Where was Fiona, damn it? She’d been up there nigh on the entire hour since their arrival. Having had his share of experience with women and their need to stroke their vanities with excessive grooming, he’dprepared himself for her to take some time before descending again to sup, but this was getting ridiculous.
    The people in the inn would be the only witnesses to any fussing over her appearance. Whom did she hope to impress? Not him, surely. They were there to gather information, eat, and rest for a bit, nothing more. She’d assured him that they’d learn the whereabouts of her former band of thieves here—it was close enough to their old haunts in the forest that someone at the inn would know—as long as no men of law were hanging about, she’d added, instructing him to scrutinize every patron to ensure that no justices or sheriffs were present.
    He’d done as she’d asked, but damn if it would do them any good. Grimacing, he decided to neglect his former decision to cease drinking by tossing back the remainder of his tepid ale. They’d get nowhere with her out of sight, arranging her wimple or donning another of those singularly unattractive black kirtles she seemed devoted to wearing. By God, nothing would happen as long as she cloistered herself up there.
    Unless she wasn’t abovestairs after all.
    Blast it, he hadn’t even considered that. What if she’d decided to do something foolish and attempt to flee from him and his demands on her? Gathering all of his waning strength, Braedan pushed himself to his feet, preparing to go and find out if his suspicions were true. But he swayed a bit as he stood, knocking his cup to the floor.
    God’s bones, it must be a potent brew. The thought wiggled through his brain like a heat-slicked worm, elusive and boggling, leaving him feeling even more confused than before. Rubbing his hand across his brow again, he shook his head and squinted. A dark shape filled the doorway. Fiona, at last?
    The whisper of vanilla cooled his senses as she swept toward him, keeping in the shadows along the wall so as not to attract attention. She stopped in front of him and his newly brimming cup of ale. It had been replaced by a buxom wench with flaxen hair, who’d been glancing at him from across the room with a half smile every time she caught his gaze. The woman had sidled back toward the other patrons with Fiona’s entrance, he noticed, apparently pouting over the fact that the return of his female traveling companion would make it unlikely for him to respond to any additional interest she might show him.
    Dismissing the woman and her carnal disappointments from his mind, he redirected his attention to Fiona, subduing the relief he felt at her return by eyeing the long, hooded cape she wore.
    “Why the devil are you wearing that inside? We’re not going anywhere soon.”
    She didn’t answer, instead reaching for his cup and lifting it to drink.
    He sat down again, adding wryly, “I take it you’re thirsty.”
    She only kept drinking, pulling the cup away for a moment to breathe before tipping her head back again and draining the last of it. She set the vessel down when she was done, delicately wiping her mouth with her fingers.
    He scowled at her, beginning to become annoyed at the way she continued to ignore him. “Enjoy that, did you?”
    She looked askance at him this time, her face still shadowed in the folds of her hood. “I haven’t tasted public ale in a long while, but it is as awful as I remembered.”
    He didn’t possess the strength to ask why, then, she’dgulped it down like it was elixir. He closed his eyes for a moment, determined to work through this fog that seemed to be settling