“Och,” the woman said. “That John. He made the fire, but didn't have sense enough to close the window.” She went to the open window and tugged it closed. She turned her attention to the bed. “What brings you all the way out here?” she asked as she drew back the blankets.
“Forgive me, madam,” Phoebe replied, “I know it’s highly irregular for a woman to travel alone.”
The woman looked at Phoebe, not a trace of apprehension or recrimination on her face, and smiled.
Phoebe managed a blush. “You see,” she stammered and looked down at the floor, “I am newly married—”
“Well, now,” the woman interjected as she lifted a pillow and began fluffing it.
Phoebe looked up at her. “And, well, you see, my husband went away on business. He had not expected to be gone long, but it’s been a month now, and…well, I miss him terribly.”
“Aye,” the woman clucked, “and rightly so.”
“So, I decided, if Muhammad won’t come to the mountain, I’d bring the mountain to Muhammad.”
The woman paused in fluffing the pillow, a confused look on her face.
“If he can’t come to me,” Phoebe offered gently, “I’ll go to him.”
The woman’s face brightened. “A fine wife,” she said, then frowned. “But do you no’ think it’s a bit dangerous traveling on your own like this?”
“Oh, well, I didn’t start out on my own,” Phoebe said, stripping off her gloves. “I had a servant with me. You’ll laugh.” She tossed her gloves on the chair that sat before the crackling fire. “The foolishness of men.”
The woman’s eyes brightened.
Phoebe giggled. “You see, he fell from his horse and broke his leg.”
“No!” the woman exclaimed, her eyes widening.
Phoebe nodded vigorously. “And my husband is forever worrying I’ll hurt myself.” She laughed again. “Can you imagine? It was I who had to save him.”
The woman laughed. “Aye, lass, that’s often the way it is. They think it’s them who saves us, but who is it that saves them from themselves?” She snorted, adding, “The weaker sex,” and both women laughed.
“Well,” Phoebe went on, “it was no more dangerous for me to continue on, then it was to turn back.”
The woman’s expression turned more serious. “Surely, you could have gotten another escort, though?”
Phoebe affected a look of abashment. “Do you think I should have? Oh dear.” She sat on the chair, crushing her gloves. “Jared is sure to be angry with me.”
“Now, now,” the woman said, and waddled to Phoebe’s side. “You did what ye thought was best. And, you’re all right, aren’t you?”
“Oh, indeed, I am. Quite well.”
The woman patted Phoebe’s arm. “No harm done, then. But,” she said with a serious look, “you never know who you might meet traveling in these parts.” She gave a succinct nod. “We’ll find you someone to go the rest of the way with you.”
“Can you spare someone?”
“Well, perhaps we can send John.” She looked thoughtful. “I’ll ask my husband.”
“Your husband owns the inn?” Phoebe asked, as if in awe.
The woman smiled. “He does.”
“Oh, but I didn’t know. Pray, forgive me.”
A pleased look passed over the woman’s face. “Och. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“What is your name, madam?” Phoebe asked.
“Mrs. MacKenzie. Now,” she said, “you get—"
There was a knock at the door. Phoebe and the innkeeper’s wife both looked toward the door, which stood ajar.
“Sally,” Mrs. MacKenzie cried, when a young woman carrying a tray pushed open the door.
“Over here.” Mrs. MacKenzie pointed to the small table beside Phoebe's chair.
The girl brought the tray to the table.
“You're too kind.” Phoebe stood.
“Never mind,” Mrs. MacKenzie said. “You must eat. Now, Sally, fetch a little warm water for—” she looked to Phoebe.
“Mrs. MacGregor,” Phoebe replied.
As hoped, Mrs. MacKenzie beamed. “Mrs. MacGregor.” Sally hurried from the room and Mrs. MacKenzie looked at Phoebe. “If you need anything, my room is at the end of the hall.”
“Again,” Phoebe took Mrs. MacKenzie’s hand in hers, “you're too kind.”
The housekeeper blushed and patted Phoebe’s hand. “Get some rest, lass. We’ll have a nice breakfast in the morning and get you settled on your way.”
A shame, Phoebe thought, to have to miss such an enjoyable meal.