Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(7)

He made a scornful sound in his throat. “I wouldn’t trust Darryl Tewkes to guard my drink while I went out to piss.” His eyes went serious. “It’s a valuable take tonight, Meredith. I’ve two men out there already, armed with pistols and shot. It’s too risky not to transport the goods immediately.”

Even worse. Two men with guns? She hesitated, casting a glance toward the bar.

“As usual,” he said, “there’s more than Madeira in it for you. You know I pay handsomely for the use of your father’s ponies.”

“I know, I know. But you don’t understand.”

“I understand your eyes keep straying to that gent by the bar. Great ugly fellow, isn’t he? Where’d he come from?” His voice darkened. “Has he frightened you?”

“No, no. He’s just a traveler.” Inspiration struck, and she added, “So he says. If you ask me, he’s on errand from the Lydford magistrate. Best not to give him any reason to suspect, you know? Wait until morning, after he leaves.”

“You know I can’t transport these goods in daylight. And the Lydford magistrate’s been in my pocket for well over a year.” Gideon shrugged out of his coat and tossed it to a waiting man. “Perhaps I’ll introduce myself. Add his drinks to my account, will you?”

Meredith tried to protest, but Gideon was already halfway across the room.

“I’m Gideon Myles,” he announced, tossing his cap on the counter beside Rhys’s elbow.

Rhys looked up from his ale. “Should I know that name?”

“I daresay you should. But then, modesty’s never been one of my virtues.”

With a reluctant sigh, Rhys braced his hands on the edge of the bar and stood. Meredith saw a flicker of hesitance cross Gideon’s features. Gideon was a big man by most measures, but Rhys dwarfed him with his shadow alone.

“Don’t tell me,” Rhys said, stacking his arms across his massive chest. “You want to show me your enchanted cave and sell me a bottle of piskie dust.”

And now Gideon’s face went blank with confusion. “I don’t know what the hell you’re implying,” he said slowly, “but I know I feel like hitting you for it.”

This was hopeless. Meredith had no choice but to step in.

“Pardon the interruption,” she said to Rhys. “Mr. Myles is our local … dry goods carrier.” She ignored Gideon’s expression of offended pride. He’d understand the reason for her falsehood soon enough. “Gideon, this is Rhys St. Maur. The new Lord Ashworth.”

The entire room went still. Conversations died mid-syllable. The name Ashworth had the same effect as the sound of that brass candlestick whipped through the air. It was a dangerous sound. A threat.

“Ashworth,” Gideon repeated, staring down Rhys with vengeful eyes.

Rhys stood impassive and said evenly, “Yes. I believe we’ve established our names, Mr. Myles.”

A grumble spread through the room. Chair legs scraped slate.

“What are you doing here?” Gideon asked.

“Whatever I please. I don’t answer to you.”

Meredith knew she had to draw a close to this scene, and fast. She’d only just tidied up from the first brawl. And now Gideon had two men outside armed with pistols, and a wagonload of smuggled goods he’d no doubt kill to protect.

“He’s only here for the night,” she announced to the room. “And I was just going to show him to his accommodations. Mr. Myles, our trade will wait for tomorrow morning.”

There, she told Gideon with her eyes. Now do you see why you can’t go unloading that wagon tonight?

He did. But he wasn’t happy about it. He struck a petulant pose. “Darryl can show him upstairs.”

“It’s my inn. He’s my guest.” She turned to Rhys. “If you’d follow me, my lord?”

She didn’t wait for his reply, just turned and headed for the back stairs and hoped he’d follow. He did. The ancient bowed planks groaned beneath his weight, and the stairway suddenly felt too narrow.

“I’m sorry to make trouble for you,” he said.

“It’s no trouble,” she replied, slowing her pace. “But if you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?”

She heard him sigh. “Honestly, Mrs. Maddox?” Creak. “I’m asking myself the same thing.”

Fair enough.

“Your room’s just here,” she said, leading him down the corridor. She waited to the side, holding the door open for him to enter.

He strode a few paces to the center of the bedchamber and turned a slow circle, surveying his accommodations. Meredith held her breath, wondering what he’d make of them. She’d only finished redecorating the room this week. It was the opening salvo in her campaign to remake the Three Hounds into a quality establishment. A real inn, the type where well-heeled travelers would plan to break their journeys, not just reluctantly stop over if they’d broken a carriage wheel.

Meredith sighed as she went to start a fire. She really hadn’t the slightest notion what she was doing. Just this afternoon, she’d stood in the center of this room, feeling terribly proud of the new ruffled drapes and quilted counterpane. The blue china vase above the mantel added a touch of elegance, she’d fancied.