Page 8 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
“I thank ye lad. I shall be pleased tae avoid the snow and bide here taenight.” He turned to Tyra. “I am confident Lady Tyra would welcome a night’s respite and a sound sleep.”
She smiled, relieved that they would not travel further in the vicious weather.
The landlord turned to Tyra. “We had supper ready fer ye and yer escorts, milady. Sadly, yer lads will nae be joining us. But the meal awaits. I wish tae offer both ye and Laird Mackenzie a serving of the stew me good wife has prepared.”
Tyra nodded, her heart sore at the reminder of the fate of Ghillie and Dugald.
“I thank ye, Malcolm.” Ewan turned to Tyra. “I trust a good meal is tae yer liking, milady?”
“Aye,” she nodded. “I am quite partial tae some nourishment.”
“Then let us take our seats at the table.” Getting to his feet, Ewan proffered his arm as if they were heading for a grand dinner. Smiling, Tyra rose and took his arm, reassured by the strength she felt under her fingers.
Once they were seated, Malcolm poured them each a goblet of wine. “Fine French wine, Laird Mackenzie, as ye please.”
Ewan raised his glass. “Tae yer continued good health Lady Tyra.Slàinte mhath.”
She raised hers in salute. “And tae yers, Laird Mackenzie.”
Two scullery maids brought out platters and placed the meal on the table in front of them. Steam rose from the stew and Tyra found her mouth watering at she breathed the fragrant aroma.
The two serving maids stood and stared at her for a moment before turning and scurrying off. The sound of their giggles floated back from the kitchen.
Tyra smoothed away a long strand of hair that had come loose from her braids and tucked it behind her ears, all of a sudden uncomfortably aware of her untidy appearance. Her dress was coated in mud around the hem and there was a slight tear in her skirt, while her hair was far from the neat coiffure she was used to. Being always careful of her appearance, her state of dishevelment caused her cheeks to burn in embarrassment. It was unseemly for her to be seen in public in anything less than immaculate attire.
“Dae I have a smear of mud on me face Laird Mackenzie? I am a little discomfited by the maids’ amusement at me appearance.”
He examined her face, this way and that, for a little too long, his searching gaze causing her cheeks to burn more fiercely.
“Aye, milady, there is a wee speck of mud on yer face.” He grinned and reached a hand to touch the tip of her nose, leaving it perhaps a moment longer than he had intended.
She blushed and rubbed a finger on it when he removed his.
“Is it gone?”
He was chuckling, making a show of regarding her, peering closely at her nose. “Hmm. Nay, I believe it is only a wee freckle after all.”
She smiled. “Ye’re foolin’ me!”
“Aye. I admit tae the crime.”
He reached for her glass to pour more wine and their fingertips touched for the briefest moment.
Och.
There was that sliver of lightning striking her heart again.
She took a gulp of the wine and looked up at him from under her lashes.
Me goodness, he is a handsome lad.
A tad flustered she turned her attention to the bowl of venison stew in front of her and spooned in a mouthful.
“Mm. Me compliments tae Malcolm’s wife, this is delicious.”
“Seems we’re in luck. I’ve granted him permission tae take a deer from me estate every month and make good use of it here in the inn. If the weather wasnae so bad, there’d have been many folk here tae dine, so it is likely there’d have been nay venison left fer us tae sup.”
The two scullery maids appeared again, removing their dishes and providing servings of puddings and little almond and honey cakes. Again, she felt their eyes on her.
