Page 43 of Scot of Deception
Blaine must have resembled the man then in some way.
“What was he like?” Blaine asked, just to make small talk with the laird. It seemed like a safe topic, one that he could follow while still keeping an eye on Kathleen and the conversation she was having with Fenella.
Would Kathleen tell everything about the two of them to her friend? It was likely, of course. Young women shared everything, especially things like that, but at least he was certain neither of them would broach such a topic in public, among the other nobles, and so he allowed his attention to stray from them and back to the laird.
“A formidable warrior,” Laird Stewart said as he took a sip of wine from his goblet. “Truly the best o’ his generation, Angus was. We won many battles thanks tae him that we would have otherwise lost.”
“I’d heard o’ Clan Stewart’s victories, as I’m sure everyone has,” said Blaine, in that polite and unhurried tone he assumed whenever he was in the company of nobles and trying to pass as one of them. Now, he mimicked the laird, taking on the same, straight-backed stance with his chest open and his arms relaxed. It was far from easy; he was used to being on guard at all times, looking over his shoulder as any soldier did, but a noble wouldn’t have a reason to look over his shoulder in the safety of a keep, no matter how many battles he had personally won.
“It was a great loss,” said Laird Stewart. “Never again shall there be another man like him.”
As the laird spoke, one of the servants poured more wine for him and then proceeded to do the same for Blaine. He had seen the other servants unobtrusively moving about the table to make sure those who broke their fast had everything they could possibly want, and he had seen the dismissive way in which the nobles treated them all—as if they were entirely invisible, nothing but a meaningless rustle of movement in the corners of their eyes.
“Thank ye,” Blaine told the young woman, giving her a small, polite smile. In turn, she stared at him in surprise, freezing inher tracks, as if she had never expected to be addressed by someone at the table at all.
And perhaps she hadn’t. Blaine was used to dining in taverns and inns, places where one was meant to thank the serving wenches and anyone who offered them their service. No such thing was expected here, in the keep.
“O’ course, m’laird,” said the young woman, bowing to him quickly before she moved on to the next guest, her gaze downcast the entire time.
When Blaine turned his gaze back to Laird Stewart, he found the man looking at him oddly, his brow furrowed as if in confusion.
“Somethin’ the matter, me laird?” Blaine asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Had he embarrassed himself among the nobles by addressing the young servant girl?
Blaine threw a quick, furtive glance around the room, but if anyone had noticed, they seemed to have moved on from it already. When he looked back at the other man, he found him with a small, almost amused smile on his lips.
“Nay, nay,” the laird assured him, waving a hand dismissively, along with the piece of egg that was skewered on his fork. “It’s just that Angus always made a point o’ thankin’ the servants as well. Ye really are plenty like him, after all.”
Blaine returned the man’s smile. It seemed to him that he had inadvertently gotten himself in the laird’s good graces, which was more than he could have hoped for when he had first set foot in Castle Stalker. One could never know when such a contact could come in handy, and in Blaine’s line of work, it was always a good idea to have powerful friends.
“Well, I think it is important,” Blaine said, putting as much meaning behind his words as he could. Laird Stewart knew his true identity, after all; he knew he was closer to those servants than he was to the people sitting around the table.
“An’ ye’re absolutely correct,” Laird Stewart said with a smile. Perhaps Blaine’s resemblance to Angus, the war master, had made the man especially sentimental that morning. The conversation solicited a few stunned, mumbledthank yousfrom the nobles around the table.
Across the table, Kathleen glanced at Blaine, giving him a look that was equal parts amused and bemused. Blaine only shrugged a shoulder, not knowing what to say.
Then, suddenly, Laird Stewart clapped his hands together. “Alright! Once we are finished here, we shall all head tae the woods fer the hunt.”
“All?” one of the men inquired. He was older, with dark hair that grayed at the temples, and piercing blue eyes. “The lasses as well?”
Laughter rippled around the table from the men and women alike, but Laird Stewart seemed to consider it seriously for a moment. In the end, he nodded slowly, scratching idly at his chin.
“Sure,” he said. “Whoever would like tae join. We shall divide ourselves in pairs, one man an’ one woman in each, an’ then we can see which pair brings in the biggest game.”
Another round of murmurs followed around the table, from which Blaine could catch a few complaints. Fenella looked art her fiancé and blushed. In the end, it was Kathleen who spoke up and settled it.
“I think that would be lovely, Laird Stewart,” she said. “I, fer one, ken how tae hunt.”
“There!” Laird Stewart exclaimed delightedly, with another clap of his hands. “It is settled, then. We shall all head tae the woods together.”
This time, the murmurs around the table were of assent as the men resigned themselves to their fate. Trying to suppress his amused chuckle, Blaine looked at Kathleen over a largeplatter of roasted fowl that rested between them on the table, and he found her eyes sparkling with mischief.
It was going to be a long hunt.
There was no other option for Blaine than to be with Kathleen on this hunt—or at least so he told himself. Fenella had naturally been paired with he husband-to-be and Kathleen with him. He had to keep an eye on her, of course. It was important to the mission to make sure that nothing happened to her, and a hunt could pose plenty of danger. What if she was suddenly face to face with a wild boar? Or if she fell into some trap that another hunter had laid in the forest, one she couldn’t see?
And, to be honest, if it meant that he got to spend even more time with her, then it was all the better.
It was an overcast day, dark clouds lingering in the sky, a breeze blowing all around them and mussing his hair. The ground was soft, wet with the previous night’s rain, and Blaine’s boots sank into the mud as he and Kathleen followed the rest of the group into the forest. Kathleen was the only one out of the women who was holding a bow and quiver, just as the men, and the only one who was dressed reasonably for the occasion with her sturdy boots and hardy cloak. She had prepared well for her travels, and now once again, her clothes came in handy.
