Page 22 of Highland Seduction

“I’d hoped this one was no’ occupied,” Tor said, entering it with her. A large bed, much larger than she’d expected, along with a table and two chairs, greeted them.

Tor dropped his small saddlebag along with Ainsley’s much larger one. He took the key from Neil.

“I will send a maid with a bowl of scented water and cloths while ye attend to a meal below. A warm bowl of stew and pitcher of my best ale awaits ye both.”

Tor clasped the man on the back. “Many thanks. Ye’re a good man, Neil Hayle.”

“Better than ye, for certain.” He smiled, winking again at Ainsley. “I jest, my lady, as I’m sure ye know already. There is none I would prefer under my modest roof than the laird of MacRob or his siblings. This one, especially.”

“Aye?” Ainsley asked, probing. “Why Tor, if I may be so bold to ask?”

The innkeeper took a step toward her and leaned in as if he told her a secret. “He is my favorite, my lady. Always quick with a smile, and his sword if need be. And I’ve needed it more than once.” He stood straight again and addressed Tor. “Do ye remember that scoundrel who tried to steal a horse right from my own stable?”

“Two horses, if I recall,” Tor said. “I remember him well.” He stuck out his arm. “I’ve a memento from that particular time.” He said to Ainsley, “I’d naught to protect me, no’ a shirt even. This one came knocking in the darkest part of the night yellin’ about a horse thief.”

“Ach, well, he’ll no’ be thievin’ any longer.”

Her eyes widened. “Did ye kill him, then?” she asked Tor.

“Nay.” He shook his head, a twinkle in his eye. “Just cut off his hands.”

Ainsley’s jaw dropped. But she closed it when Neil cackled.

“He took him to the sheriff of Berwick the next morn. The man’s been in a prison cell for two summers.”

“’Tis better than losing yer hands, or life, I suppose.”

“I’ll be leavin’ ye to dry,” Neil said, backing out of the door. “Come down when ye’re ready to eat. If that be yer pleasure.” Another wink.

Ainsley laughed as he dropped the key on a table and closed the door. “The man does enjoy winking, does he no’?”

“And telling stories too.” Tor glanced down at his satchel and then promptly began to undress. Ainsley turned her back before she could see aught.

“Ye’re . . . undressing?”

There are other ways to find pleasure between a man and a woman, Ainsley.

“Are ye no’?” he asked. A reasonable question, as Ainsley was as wet as if she’d just emerged from a bath.

“No’ . . . here.” Ainsley closed her eyes even though she was turned around. She could hear him shuffling through his bag. Had he completely disrobed already?

“Then where, lass? In the hall?”

The sound of his boots told her he’d removed them.

“Ye’re no’ amusing, husband,” she said, oddly enjoying calling him as much. The tone she used on that particular word hadn’t lost its vitriol.

“I’ve been told otherwise, wife.”

She smiled.

“I’ll no’ tell anyone if ye peek.”

Oh God, she wanted to. “Will ye leave when ye’re finished?”

“Nay, lass. I will turn my back, as ye do. And give ye my word, as a MacRob, I’ll no’ have a wee peek at ye.”

Her shoulders shook, Ainsley understanding why Neil would count Tor as his favorite. “I do no’ believe ye.”