Page 60 of Lord of Dunkeathe
“What did I tell ye, Roban, old son? She’s all but promised to him already.”
That got a reaction from Riona. She darted a look over her shoulder at her uncle that would have warned a sober man to keep quiet.
Nicholas hoped this wasn’t going to ruin the relationship she had with her uncle, which was one to envy. It was probably Roban’s fault they were drunk. He’d been to a tavern once or twice with Adair’s friend himself, and knew how easy it was to lose track of time and how much you had to drink as Roban regaled you with stories of heroic deeds and great battles, all featuring amazing Scotsmen, of course.
Once in the kitchen, the servants, wary and curious, gave them a wide berth as he got the two men sitting on a bench beside the worktable.
“Ah, thank you, my son,” Mac Gordon exclaimed. “Well, you’re not my son and never will be. Nephew-in-law, though, eh?” he finished, laughing.
“I suggest you do as your niece proposes and have something to eat,” he replied, ignoring Mac Gordon’s comments and fighting to ignore Riona, who was dishing up some food at another table along the wall, her slender—and very tense—back to him. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
“Or later in the hall,” Mac Gordon declared, slapping Roban on the back and nearly knocking him over. “Roban and I will teach you how to sing.”
Nicholas didn’t reply as he turned to leave the kitchen. As he did, he couldn’t help giving Riona one last look. When she realized he was watching her, she quickly turned away.
But not before he saw a tear upon her flushed cheek.
The sight of that single droplet stirred something deep within Nicholas—a tenderness, a longing to comfort, such as he’d never felt before.
Was this weakness?
He’d always thought so when he’d heard the minstrels singing of such a feeling.
Yet how could it be? he asked himself as he returned to his hall. Never in his life had he felt more keenly determined to protect and take care of another. He felt strong, not weak—stronger than he’d ever felt in his life, as if he could take on anarmy to protect Riona Mac Gordon, and see to it she never shed another tear.
AFTERRIONAhad finally got Uncle Fergus and Roban fed and a little bit sober, she had to try to get them to retire, or at least persuade Uncle Fergus to go to bed.
“But my beauty, ’tis the shank o’ the evening!” Uncle Fergus protested after she suggested it was getting late—again.
The servants stifled more grins and smiles.
Riona could appreciate that while this might be an amusing diversion for them, it most certainly wasn’t for her. She’d rarely been so humiliated as when she’d heard Uncle Fergus singing and hurried into the hall to find him making such a scene. And then when the lord of Dunkeathe himself had felt called upon to escort him from the hall…
“Where’s Fredella?” Uncle Fergus asked, looking around as if he thought she might be hiding in the corner.
“I daresay she’s long abed,” Riona replied, hoping this would encourage him to move.
“Who’s Freerinella?” Roban asked with a sleepy grin.
“A lovely woman. Dee-lightful.” Uncle Fergus winked. “And too old for you, my lad. She needs amatureman.”
As her uncle roared with laughter at his own joke, Roban rose somewhat shakily. “Then I’m going to see what Adair’s up to.” He sat back down. “After I rest my eyes a wee bit,” hemumbled as he folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. In the next moment, he was snoring.
Uncle Fergus prodded him, but the man didn’t move or stop snoring. “Wheest, young folks today! No stamina.”
“If he’s that tired, itmustbe late,” Riona reasoned.
“Maybe you’re right,” Uncle Fergus finally conceded.
Riona sent up a quick prayer of thanks as her uncle hoisted himself up from the bench. She hurried forward to lend him her shoulder. “Let me help you, Uncle.”
Mercifully he didn’t protest.
“We’ll go through the yard,” she said. “It’s faster.”
Since their chambers were so far from the hall, itwasquicker to go through the courtyard, and if that meant not having to endure the sneers and whispers of the Normans, so much the better.
“I told you about the time I went boar hunting, didn’t I?” Uncle Fergus asked as they crossed the yard.
