with a man. But lairds, I suspected, were above scandal. Either they were too highly respected to be accused of making untoward advances, or they were allowed whatever untoward advances they chose to make. I hardly cared. It wasn’t as though my reputation was as pure as the driven snow. That I had managed to traverse the path of my young adulthood without experiencing even so much as a first kiss was all but a miracle. I wasn’t afraid of being alone with Knox Mackenzie. And, in fact, I was hungry.
Our path was interrupted by the sudden approach of a young soldier, who was well armed and also bloodied and dirty as though from a fight. “Laird Mackenzie,” he said, with clear urgency in his voice. “A dispute between Eamon and Fraser is in full force in the sparring ring. I fear one of them might take the other’s life if they aren’t persuaded otherwise. I’ve attempted to intervene, but they’re in a blind, provoked rage. They’ve already injured themselves quite severely.” Then, as though noticing me despite the circumstances, he took a quick bow. “If you’ll forgive the intrusion, milady.”
I was unaccustomed to being addressed in such a way, and I fumbled with my answer before I could give a reply that might have sounded appropriate. “I, uh, not...not at all.”
Knox Mackenzie was too preoccupied—and annoyed, if I was reading him correctly—with the matter at hand to take notice of my response either way. “Isn’t there anyone else who can break up two hotheaded recruits? Where’s Lachlan?”
“I couldn’t find him,” the young soldier said.
Laird Mackenzie’s manner had changed markedly, his resolute seriousness shielding any fleeting, momentary connection we might have skirted around. “If you would be so kind, Miss Taylor,” he gruffed, “to wait for me in the hall, I will be with you shortly. This will not take long.”
“Of course, Laird Mackenzie,” I replied, and I was pleased with the gentility of my response; I sounded wholly proper, and suitably respectful. As I very nearly was.
As Laird Mackenzie retreated into the unseeable distance with his soldier, I made my way to the manor, entering through the side door and finding my way to the grand hall, where the tables had been set with cheese, fruit and bread.
There was no one about. The servers must have been preparing the remainder of the meal in the kitchens.
My stomach rumbled at the sight of the abundant food. Tiny tufts of steam still rose from the fresh-baked bread rolls, and the heavenly scent was enough to break down my barriers of etiquette. Surely they wouldn’t mind if I took something to eat before the others arrived. I had been offered food by the laird himself, after all, and also invited by Christie. My last meal had been a hearty one—more than twelve hours ago. And the apple...well, Knox Mackenzie had eaten most of it in the end. I’d always had a healthy appetite, yet more often than not I was left unsatisfied. And the bounty before me was simply more than my limited powers of resistance could handle. I picked up a small, rounded loaf of bread, breaking it open. I placed a hunk of the ripe cheese between the still-warm halves, watching it melt. Then I took a blissful bite. Unthinkingly, I reached for more bread, for Hamish, stuffing it in the pocket of my gown. And another. He’d be hungry after his morning in the barracks.
At that moment, Laird Mackenzie walked into the hall, accompanied by not only Christie but also Katriona.
Oh, damnation.
How uncouth I must have appeared. It occurred to me that I could have been just a wee bit less eager about helping myself to this food on offer. I didn’t believe they would mind that I’d taken a small bite of bread before the dinner bell was rung, but the way I was stuffing not only my mouth but also my pockets might have looked less than genteel.
Ah, well. My intentions were as true as they’d ever been: to look after my nephew as best I could, by finding food for him along my travels. Partaking in sustenance for myself was hardly a crime worth punishing, I reasoned.
I swallowed, brushing the crumbs from my chin with my hand, for lack of anything more suitable. All three of them were staring at me, of course. As I might have expected, this transgression would only fuel Katriona’s scorn; she looked almost amused by my total lack of decorum, as though I had proven a point she’d been trying unsuccessfully to make all along. I thought of stuttering out some excuses, but that might make matters worse. Instead, I squared my shoulders and smiled gracefully.
Knox Mackenzie’s face was virtually unreadable. This irked me. If it was pity he felt for me, or disdain, I wanted to be able to tell, I realized. But he wouldn’t even give me that. He just leaned his shoulder against a wooden pillar to watch me, his thumb casually laced beneath the belt at his hips, as though to take his time and carefully assess whether I should be regarded as a thief, a beggar, a nuisance or something else altogether.
Christie stepped forward and laced her arm through mine. “I’m famished, too,” she said conspiratorially, and I was grateful. Her benevolence was the most pronounced aspect of her character. I wished I might someday have a chance to reciprocate her kindness. “We didn’t even break our fast this morning, did we, Amelia? You and your brother must be half-starved by now, after the journey you’ve had.”
Before I could respond to her, to thank her for tactfully smoothing the awkwardness caused by my misdemeanor, Knox Mackenzie said brusquely, “Shall we conduct our meeting now, Amelia? I can offer you more food in my den...if you’re still hungry.” As if to imply that I might have already eaten my fill.
I thought of telling him that I could have eaten all the food in the room if he’d just leave me to it. Instead, I smiled and said, “As you wish, Laird Mackenzie.”
Katriona’s flicker of amusement faded. In a complete reversal, her face took on a note of mild anxiety and she offered, “I could bring the food to your den if you’d like.”
Offhandedly, without giving her so much as a glance, Knox Mackenzie replied, “Call for one of the servants to bring it. Amelia, this way, if you will.”
Christie patted my arm and turned her attention to Katriona, placating an apparent uprising of distress in her that I appeared to have a knack for inspiring.
I followed Laird Mackenzie through a door and down a candlelit corridor.
We entered a large, low-ceilinged chamber that was opulently decorated with well-crafted yet comfortable-looking furniture, woven rugs and a large circular table. Several shuttered windows were open and looked out upon the orchards. A servant came immediately to the door, and Laird Mackenzie asked her to bring us some food and ale.
I stood by the window, feeling increasingly on edge about the inquiry that was about to begin. Perhaps sensing my unease, the laird invited me to sit in one of two stuffed leather chairs that had been situated to enjoy the view. I was glad he hadn’t asked me to take a seat at the meeting table. This cozy corner seemed more conducive to a casual, informal chat than a full-blown interrogation. The servant returned, placing a large plate of assorted meats, cheeses and breads and a pitcher of ale on a small table between us. Then she took her leave, closing the door with a heavy thud.
Laird Mackenzie poured ale into two goblets and handed one to me. I accepted the drink, even though I knew he was likely just trying to loosen my tongue, hoping to get me tipsy so I’d spill all my secrets. Wise to his ploys, I would humor him but I would not fall into his traps. I would drink. Very, very slowly.
But when I tasted the ale, it was so delicious, lightly bubbling with a hint of malty sweetness, and I was so thirsty that I ended up drinking half the goblet in one go. Even as I silently cursed myself for what would certainly be unwise, I couldn’t resist just one more
