Page 30 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
“Ye enjoy the oatcakes here, then?” she commented as she placed one on the plate in front of her.
William nodded. “Cook’s famous for ‘em.”
“He used to nae be,” Myles jumped in, gnawing on his own oatcake. “Werenae those the days, Billy?”
“William. Aye, hard as pucks some of em,” He said, his mouth now only half-full of food. “Gorge on ‘em now, ‘fore he changes the recipe again and they’re back to bein’in-famous.”
The table chuckled along as she took the first bite.
It warmed her from the inside and her thoughts scattered briefly under the comfort of honey and butter, the steam from the tea curling under her nose. Amara’s stomach growled angrily at once, traitorous and loud enough for William to hear right as he was stuffing three cakes in his jacket.
“Goodness me,Eatup, ye’ll feel much better,” he laughed and placed one from his jacket onto her plate as he stood and joined Rhys at the end of the table. Myles has snuck around the back of the table apparently as well because he was there as well.
Their low tones hovered around the clinking of wares on the plates as the two men teased each other while waiting for their laird. Their jests ventured between dice and horses to some lady who threatened to throw a chamber pot at one of them…or had she actually thrown it?Amara’s interest was piqued only briefly until her attention wavered.
Her eyes drifted down from the men behind Rhys and landed on Daisy, who leaned toward her father, whispering something. He bent to hear her, his entire body softening. The lines of his shoulders eased, and he nodded with full attention.
He wasn’t always sharp edges and commands. He listened to his daughter like she was the only one in the world worth hearing. It was an incredibly gentle.
Part of her wanted to look again, but she quickly turned her eyes back to her bowl. The shawl around her shoulders still held the scent of peat smoke and heather. Careful not to draw too much attention to herself, she pulled it closer and breathed it in.
The porridge was nearly gone when Amara realized she hadn’t spoken in several minutes, and the hall had gone nearly quite, save for William and Myles still lowly insulting each other.
“Lady Amara?” Daisy piped up suddenly, her voice cutting through the table’s low rumble.
Amara blinked, “Aye?”
The young girl leaned forward with an inquisitive frown. “Are ye feeling better, then?”
The air shifted at once.
William froze mid-bite. Myles paused with his cup halfway to his lips. Even Rhys, who had just reached for the honey, stopped moving.
Amara’s cheeks went hot. She glanced at Rhys, but he remained staring into his cup as if hoping to disappear into it.
“I…” she cleared her threat. “Aye, thank ye, Miss Daisy. I am well, especially after some sleep.”
The girl smiled, pleased with herself, and took another nonchalant bite of her jam-slathered oatcake.
But the girl was far from finishing her inquisition.
“Are ye goin’ to marry me da?”
Amara choked on her tea.
Myles let out a startled laugh. “Aye, what’re yer intentions with our laird, Lady Amara?” he teased. “Best we all ken ‘fore the banns get read out.”
William sputtered, covering his grin behind a hand.
Amara’s mouth opened, then shut. Her skin burned and in this moment she didn’t know what was worse, the clansmen last night or this intimate-type of embarrassment.
She turned fully toward Daisy, shoulders cocked back and ready to respond with whatever the right answer might have been. Amara had hoped it would come to her as she started to speak, but before she could, Rhys’s voice came down hard between them.
“She’s a guest.”
His words were flat. Cold. As final as a slammed door.
Even Daisy blinked, startled by his tone, and her entire little body went rigid.
