Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (62 page)

Sabina wasn’t sure of the way to this mysterious
Master Cuthbert’s tavern, but that didn’t seem to matter since Amir
seemed able to detect the boundaries of the overgrown bridle path
as if by instinct. Meanwhile, Robert dragged Arthur forward by his
bridle and bit, all the while whispering soft commands in French.
Sabina didn’t fathom why he did that—Arthur didn’t understand a
word of French—but nevertheless, it seemed to work. Soon Arthur was
following steadily along behind her, with nary a whinny or
head-shake at Robert’s firm lead.

After about twenty-five minutes of walking through
the heavy brush, they came upon a small clearing. In the middle of
the clearing was something that could best be described as a filthy
hovel. A two-story hovel, to be sure—but still a hovel. A faded
sign hung from the eaves that read “Master Cuthbert’s Cock and
Robin” in childlike lettering. Some scraggly-looking chickens
wandered in the packed-down dirt yard, and a mud-caked pig rooted
in the ground inside a three-sided pen set against one wall. A
muddy path that looked to be paved mostly with cow manure led
deeper into the woods—the scent of cow filth and sour milk wafting
from that end of the forest seemed to indicate a dairy farm of
sorts was hidden somewhere behind the trees. The only other
structure in site was an overflowing privy that had only a
rough-hewn screen of half-rotted wood for privacy.

This
was
where they were staying? The very thought of it made Sabina sick to
her stomach. Robert and Arthur emerged from the brambles a moment
later. Robert tied Arthur to a rotten post and surveyed the
surroundings. “Well, it seems Master Cuthbert hasn’t been investing
much in maintenance,” he observed. “That could be a good thing, or
it could be a bad thing.”

Sabina found the entire place
positively revolting. Camping out in the open under risk of bandits
and torrential downpours was surely a better option than this.
“What do you mean,
it could be a good
thing?
This place is worse than the pits
of hell! I’ve never seen such filth and squalor in my
life.”

“Appearances can be deceptive, milady,” Robert said.
“As I said, Master Cuthbert runs his tavern in a fashion that it
won’t draw attention to itself. You might be surprised at what
awaits us inside. Come on.”

He helped her down from his horse, then tied Amir to
the same post where he’d stabled Arthur. The minute Sabina’s
slipper hit the ground, she sank ankle-deep in mud and manure.
“Robert, this is disgusting. I refuse to stay another minute.”

“And where do you propose we go, milady? Rye?
There’s not much there at all, and Rye is a Norman stronghold that
is likely to be crawling with soldiers and agents who will give
away our whereabouts to Lord Reginald in a blink of an eye.
Hastings is only a half-day’s ride away, you know. And Hastings is
where my people took over this whole island in the first
place.”

“You needn’t remind me,” Sabina snarled. “It’s bad
enough I abandoned all I hold dear in order to run off with a
Norman, and a mercenary at that.”

“It’s not too late to change your mind about us,
milady,” Robert said with a wicked grin. “I’m sure that Lord
Reginald will still have you, although he might be more than a bit
dismayed by the fact you’re no longer a virgin. But you’d have to
find your own way back to Angwyld. If the humpback ever lays eyes
on me again, I’m a dead man.”

“You aren’t helping,” Sabina shot back as she tried
to wade her way through the thick mud. Every step she took seemed
to swallow her whole. “This Master Cuthbert couldn’t possibly have
that many guests. It’s almost impossible just to make it to his
front door.”

As if on cue, the pockmarked, muddy wooden door of
the hovel-slash-inn swung open on creaky wooden hinges. A massive
man—Sabina swore he had to be at least seven feet tall—stood behind
it. He had a thick shock of wild red hair, and wore the rustic
brown clothes of a Yorkshireman. His breeches were lashed tight to
his powerful legs with leather thongs, and he wore leather arm,
shoulder, and breastplates that were heavily scarred with sword and
arrow marks. His beard was long and matted, and just as red as his
hair. A long line of ragged scar tissue ran down the entire left
side of his space, crossing even his eyelid. Upon closer
inspection, Sabina saw that his left eye was missing—and he wore no
eyepatch to hide that fact for politeness’ sake, either. Here was a
man who had clearly spent much of his life in the heat of battle,
and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Robert bounded right up to the man, and they
embraced and patted each other on the back like old friends. This
scarred, wild-looking mountain of a man had to be none other than
Master Cuthbert, who supposedly would guarantee their safety. But
somehow Sabina didn’t feel very safe in the rough man’s presence.
Quite the contrary, in fact.

“Why, if it isn’t Robert de Tyre? Whatever brings ye
to this hellhole, lad? And with a lady, no less! Not like ye to
travel with the fair sex. What news d’ye bring?” He elbowed Robert
in the ribs and grinned. “And, more importantly, what gold?”

“I’ve brought you plenty of both, old friend. But
there’ll be plenty of time for that.” Robert turned back to Sabina
and made formal introductions. “Cuthbert, this is the Lady Sabina,
though her formal, ahhh, title is Lady McDonough of Glasgow. I’m
travelling under the name Lord McDonough for Lady Sabina’s
protection. Sabina—er, Lady McDonough—this is my dear old friend
Master Cuthbert.”

Cuthbert bowed deeply. “A pleasure, milady. I’d take
your hand, but I’ve just finished gutting a chicken.”

Sabina blinked. Master Cuthbert was a rough man
indeed. “Well, ahh, thank you all the same, Master Cuthbert.”

The huge man gave her another slight bow, then
turned his attentions back to Robert. “What brings you to these
parts, Robert? Last I heard you were in service to Lord Reginald in
Essex.”

“My work for Lord Reginald takes me far and wide,”
was Robert’s cryptic reply.

Master Cuthbert gave him an odd look then, which
Robert didn’t seem to notice. But Sabina did, and it made the tiny
hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. Robert might feel
perfectly safe and comfortable here, but she didn’t. She had a very
bad feeling about the whole situation, in fact. She made a note to
have a serious talk with him about it the moment they were
alone.

Their scraggly host ushered them inside the
low-ceilinged hovel that passed as an inn. Once they were past the
main entryway, however, the place was startlingly comfortable. Even
if the outside of the tavern was ramshackle and dirty, the inside
was sturdy and clean. The walls were freshly whitewashed with lime,
and the floors were polished oak. The furniture was simple, yet
well-made of fine maple and coated with good varnish. There were
even some expensive-looking tapestries hanging on the wall opposite
the large dining table. A heavy stone fireplace filled almost the
entire south wall of the main room, and a cozy fire crackled there.
Cuthbert tossed another log onto it as he passed, and soon a
pleasant sweet woody aroma filled the room. “Applewood,” he
explained as he took their dirty boots and showed them to two
comfortable chairs. “I always throw a log or two of it on when I
have guests. It smells pleasant when it burns, helps cover up the
stench of the cows a bit.”

“Much obliged, Cuthbert,” Robert said, stretching
his tired legs out in front of him. “Your place is as comfortable
as ever. Though I see you’ve let the outside go a bit since my last
stay. Any particular reason for that? I certainly hope you aren’t
feeling a pinch.”

Master Cuthbert washed his dirty
hands in a small stoneware basin that sat on a ledge built into the
plaster wall. “No, Robert, quite the contrary. Business is good.
Very good. But it’s also sometimes of a sensitive nature, which
means it helps to draw as little attention to the place as
possible. My only guests are ones who have specific business here.
Everyone else either doesn’t know the Cock and Robin exists, or if
they do, they give it a wide berth.” He dried his hands on a rag
and sat down on a stool beside the hearth. “And since you’re here,
Robert, I suspect it’s because
you
have business with me, though I shudder to think
what it might be given ye’ve been in Lord Reginald’s employ these
many years. How can I help ye, lad?”

“I’m not looking for anything much, Cuthbert. Just a
quiet, out-of-the-way place for Lady McDonough and I to stay for a
night or two—and no questions.”

Cuthbert’s bushy red eyebrows raised. “No questions,
eh? Ye haven’t gotten yourself into any kind of trouble, have ye
lad?”

“None that you need worry about,” Robert said, a
slight edge to his voice. “I’ll pay you handsomely for your
silence, Cuthbert. As always, I know you can be discreet,
especially when the price is right.”

“My price is a bit higher than it once was, Robert,”
Cuthbert said, his expression hardening. “We’re in the heart o’
Norman country here, and it’s gotten a lot harder for a redheaded
Saxon from the North of England to go unnoticed here of late. What
are ye offering, lad?”

Robert reached into his doublet
and took out a heavy velvet pouch—the very same pouch that Lord
Reginald had given him in deposit on his assignment to recover
Sabina. “Two hundred fifty crowns.That’s more than enough for you
to live on for a year or more, with or without the inn or any
other—ahem—
activities
you might have going on.”

Cuthbert’s one remaining eye nearly popped out of
his head. “A princely sum indeed, Robert,” he said, his Yorkshire
accent growing ever thicker with excitement. “But why so exorbitant
a sum, lad? I’d have settled for half that.”

“You give yourself away, my friend,” Robert said as
a way to avoid the question. “Did I teach you nothing when it comes
to the art of negotiation?”

Cuthbert clapped his massive freckled hands together
and laughed. “There’s no getting past ye, eh Robert? Two hundred
fifty crowns it is. And no questions. Other than how long ye might
be staying. I’m due to have a number of rather, shall we say,
unseemly guests arriving day after tomorrow for some business.
Business of the sort I’m not certain a lady as lovely and civilized
as Lady McDonough here would have much of a tolerance for, even if
she does hail from Glasgow.”

“I should think we’ll be out of your hair well
before then, Cuthbert,” Robert replied. “Provided the weather
clears and we can arrange passage across the Channel.”

“The channel, eh? Going to see yer mum on the old
estate then, eh Robert? Maybe introduce the lady round Normandy as
the new daughter-in-law, perhaps?”

“I said
no questions
, Cuthbert,” Robert
snapped, his voice harsher than Sabina had ever heard it before.
She glanced from Robert to Cuthbert, and back to Robert. Both men
had instinctively placed their hands on their sword hilts, whether
out of habit or sinister intentions, Sabina had no idea. One never
knew with mercenaries and their hair-trigger tempers, after
all.

Cuthbert grinned, slapped his knee, and laughed. He
took his sword out and used it to cut a lock of hair from his
beard. Robert immediately relaxed and joined in the laughter.

“Aw, Robert, ye know I’m just playing tomfoolery,
lad,” Cuthbert said. He handed Robert the lock of hair.“My beard is
my bond, Robert, just like in the good old days.”

“Just like the good old days. I’m much obliged,
Cuthbert.”

“Not at all. For two hundred fifty crowns, I
couldn’t care less what yer up to. Though I do wonder if perhaps
ye’ve gotten in over your head, lad. But that’s none of my
business.” Cuthbert stood up and stretched. “My housemaid and I
were just out in the summer kitchen preparing dinner. We weren’t
expecting anyone to join us, so I might as well go out and kill
another chicken. But I’ll show you to your room. Since stealth
seems to be of the utmost importance to the both of you, I’ll set
you up in our cellar suite.”

Sabina gasped. “The
cellar
?“

Robert shot her a warning look, but Cuthbert raised
his hand. “’Tis all right, Robert. Milady, I assure you, our cellar
suite is by far our most comfortable room. And our most private.
Follow me.”

He guided them down a narrow hallway that ended at a
trapdoor set in the floor. Cuthbert lifted the trapdoor, revealing
a set of narrow stone stairs leading downward. He took a tin
lantern from the wall and shone it down the stairs. “There you
are,” he said. “Take the lantern with you. There are plenty of
candles and oil lamps down there, use the lantern to light them.
I’ll have the housemaid bring down a tub of hot water for washing.
Dinner should be in an hour or so.”

With that, Cuthbert turned on his heel and walked
back to the front of the inn.

Sabina blinked. “Not a very gracious host, is he?”
she remarked. “He didn’t even offer to help us down the
stairs.”

“Cuthbert is just respecting our privacy,” Robert
said. “And if he says the room is comfortable, I can assure you
that it is. Come on, let’s have a look.”

Robert helped Sabina down the narrow stone steps. He
shone the lantern around the room, revealing a surprisingly clean
and cozy suite. There was a good-sized bedstead with feather
mattress and pillows, and fresh clean linen sheets. Two chairs, a
side table, a small washbasin, a chamber pot. Even two small
paintings of the Blessed Virgin and a prayer book, along with a
tiny vase of wildflowers. It seemed that Cuthbert hadn’t lied—at
least about the accommodations.

Sabina turned to face Robert. “I don’t trust that
man,” she snapped. “I think we should find somewhere else to
stay.”