Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Her gaze searched for another route to Niall, and she spotted one.
Unfortunately, it led directly toward Torden.
Ismera hurried across the room, weaving between tables, keeping a good distance from the innkeeper’s broom until she reached him.
Torden looked at her. Up close, the smell was considerably worse, and her bold blue eyes blazed with enough fury to warn a sensible man to stay clear of her.
She put one foot on the bench opposite him.
His eyes narrowed.
The other foot followed.
Then Ismera's gaze dropped to the bowl.
He saw exactly what she intended and warned, “Don’t dare—"
Torden’s hand shot out as she reached for the bowl.
Ismera was faster.
“My stew,” he said, a rumble in his chest.
“Not anymore.”
His hand snapped out but she was quick, twisting away and jumping to the nearby table.
Torden's tankard rocked from the force of her departure, and he caught it before it tumbled over.
A man shouted as Ismera landed beside his plate.
Another scrambled out of her way when she jumped to the next table.
The innkeeper charged after her, waving his broom. “Ismera!”
She ignored him.
Niall no longer looked amused. “Don't do anything foolish, Ismera.”
She jumped onto a table directly in front of him and without a word spoke brought the bowl came down over his head.
Chapter Five
Torden
Gravy dripped down Niall's face, carrying bits of onion and carrot with it. A chunk of meat clung stubbornly to his hair while another slid down the side of his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt.
For a moment, the inn went completely silent.
Ismera stood on the table before him, hands planted on her hips and satisfaction bright in her blue eyes.
Niall wiped a hand across his face and stared at the gravy coating his palm. His face reddened as his gaze slowly lifted to Ismera.
“You miserable little—”
He lunged for her.
Ismera barely had time to react before a powerful arm wrapped around her waist and swept her off the table. She gasped as she found herself tucked firmly against the man’s, whose stew she took, side, her feet dangling above the floor.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, his arm feeling like an iron shackle around her waist.
Torden ignored her.
Niall came at them, his fist already drawn back ready to land a blow on Ismera. Torden caught his wrist before the blow could land and twisted his arm behind his back in one swift movement.
Niall cried out, his eyes cringing in pain.
With Ismera secured beneath one arm and Niall controlled by the other, Torden headed for the door.
Ismera squirmed furiously. “Put me down!”
Torden kept walking.
The innkeeper took one look at the three of them coming toward him and hurried to open the door.
Torden stepped outside and released Niall with a hard shove that sent him stumbling several feet before he landed squarely on his backside.
Ismera stirred stunned, then turned to the large man. “Don’t dare—"
Torden didn’t give it a second thought. He tossed her after Naill.
With a startled cry she landed on her backside beside the fellow.
She stared up at Torden in disbelief, a fine dust from the dry dirt settling around her.
He looked from one to the other.
“Stay out.”
Then he went back inside and shut the door.
A cheer erupted. Tankards thumped against tables and laughter filled the inn as Torden made his way back to his corner.
The innkeeper followed him. “The lass appeared in the village a couple of days ago. Been asking questions ever since. Too many, if you ask me.”
Torden sat and reached for what remained of his ale. “I didn't.”
The innkeeper chuckled. “I suppose you didn't.”
Torden had no interest in Ismera, where she'd come from, or why she was asking questions. He wanted a hot meal, another ale, and enough peace to enjoy both before he made his way home.
The serving lass appeared carrying another steaming bowl of stew.
She set it before Torden.
Torden reached for his coin pouch.
The innkeeper waved him off. “Your coin's no good for that meal. Nor the next ale.”
The serving lass added another thick piece of bread to his plate, then another. “For your trouble.”
Torden looked at the generous helping of stew, the extra bread, and the fresh tankard placed beside it. Perhaps the evening could still be salvaged.
He picked up his spoon.
By the time Torden left the inn, dusk had begun to settle over the village.
He had eaten two bowls of stew, finished the bread, and ignored the curious glances that occasionally came his way. The innkeeper had offered him a room for the night. Torden declined.
Home wasn't far.
He left the village behind and followed the road until it narrowed into a well-worn path that wound through the trees. The noise of the inn faded with every step until there was nothing but the crunch of his boots against the earth and the occasional rustle of some small creature moving through the undergrowth.
This was better.
Torden breathed deeply, glad to finally have the night to himself.