Page 13 of Keepers of the Highland Crown
“Aye, when you turn away, my lady, he follows you with his gaze in a way I have yet to see him observe another. Do not be too rash in your judgment of my friend. Even with a sour expression, I have not seen such a glint of life in his eyes before. If he smiles, well then, you shall know he favors you above all others.”
She rested her chin on the stout knight’s shoulder, the woolen mantle rough against her skin. “You are a very kind sort, Sir Brayden. I see why he favors your talents and your Lady Maise is a most fortunate one.”
“Oh, my lady! I shall have to tuck you in my pocket for the time when my Lady Maise grows angry after I leave my dirty hosen strewn about the bed chamber’s floor.” Nella smiled as a thick chuckle echoed the air from Brayden, causing Callum to glance back at them.
Her eyes locked with Callum’s. Was it possible Callum cared for her more than simply the accord? Then why had he been so adamant to have her ride with Sir Brayden?
Chapter 7
“All prepared for battle?” Nella heard Callum’s question with a brush from his breath gracing her ear while they stood about ready to walk into the tavern which sounded packed heavier than the sheep in the pen at the barn behind them.
Sir Brayden’s stern nod matched his words. “As we discussed, my friend, if you need me at your side, simply hail me. I shall remain at watch here for any who believe to seek the stables in escape if they bolt for the door at being discovered by Lady Fawnella.”
“Aye,” she answered with ease. Why? Callum was close; he would keep her safe. She closed her lashes tightly for a long blink.Damn, it had been so long since having this feeling!Was she prepared to unleash her instinct in sense? Certainly; however, she had not been ready for the emotions awakening in her by his tenderness at each turn.
He grasped her elbow gently; it was a tiny gesture, but one which gave an even stronger confidence in her step. Had she realized how much of a brave face she had put on for those who surrounded her from Abbot to Abbess to… well, everyone till now? No, she had not.
A mask! It was a mask she had worn all these years after her father’s stern warning in making certain she concealed being odd.
The first glimmer in light feathered through the dark cracks also cast by her late husband’s cruel hand. Would she do anything to hang on to this feeling? To protect Callum with the element in her grasp? Aye! She stepped boldly over the threshold.Let’s commence.
Scotsmen filled the massive common room along with a haze by fumes from the smoky hearth or stench in bodies or roasted meat or fermented ale. Not pretty. She held her finger to her nose briefly while falling in stride beside Callum as they made their way toward the only empty table flanked by benches. The table was a perfect placement, shadowed from the closed shutters given the foul weather that was about to descend outside.
Taking a seat at the wax-covered table, one of the few lassies in the establishment meandered their way. About a score in years, the serving lassie looked… yep, right at Callum a long moment as if he were a delicious slab of meat.
“Cider for all,” Callum stated.
“Aye, nae pottage or other wants, my lord?”
Other wants?Yeah, let’s guess what those are, lassie.Nella’s eyes narrowed.
“My lady?” he questioned gallantly.
She hadn’t eaten anything other than some rye bread and cheese Callum had packed for his original journey from Stirling. At spying a bowl filled with something that had grease gleaming on the top –yuck– she shook her head.
“I shall be but a moment,” the serving lassie replied, giving her a dismissive look.
Soon as the skirt’s shadow vanished from near the table, Callum leaned over. “Is there anything I may offer which will help in the search?”
“Only if I suffer by a lack of someone speaking. Then you shall be hailed to go find a purpose for them to talk so I may gather a sound signature from their voice.”
His shoulders straightened as he leaned back to say, “Aye.” At her nod, he grew silent.
Her eyes strayed toward the lit candle with the wax bleeding onto the table. Dare she stare at him with the fetchingly wayward dark hair tossed across his temple in a laddish way while attempting a chronicle? Uh, only if failing were the desired result. Tilting her head, she opened the stronger gateway for her instinct in sense, unleashing the conversations which flowed brisk and sure and loud as a waterfall from the surroundings.
“I told the shite he was to honor my daughter by askin’ for her hand or I would be cutting off his cock.”Nope, not the leader from the abbey.
“The prices were the worst I have seen at the tron gate since two fortnights past.”Not him.
“I must have the serving wench. My wife nor the wench will ever know with discretion.”Bastard, but not him.
“Why is the Benefactor not here? We were promised coin. Does he believe we shall simply harbor fear and cower away like mongrels given his standing?” Huh, promising; perhaps this was someone tethered onto the raiders?
“Patience, all will not be for naught. Look at the fine bottles of wine the Benefactor saw to leaving in preparation for his arrival.”
“Ack,” the stranger huffed dryly, “we sit here drinkin’ a wee bit of fancy wine while our great Benefactor is rumored to be riding off toward that grand wedding feast upon the day after the morrow at Highloch Castle.”
“How are you certain of this?”
