Page 14 of A Nameless Highland Laird
“They did a splendid job,” she complimented again.
This time, when Laird Knox went back to his plate, he reached for the slab of meat. So far, it had been nothing but soup and a few pieces of bread and a fork full of vegetables. It was the first time she had seen him touch the second plate.
She, likewise, moved onto the main course, picking up the knife in her right hand, placing her fork in her left. Without thinking about it, she sliced through the meat and raised the fork to her mouth. It was deliciously seasoned, melting in her mouth quickly as she chewed.
Using her napkin again, she wiped her lips and looked back up to Laird Knox. He was staring at her, his own knife and fork forgotten. Her eyes went wide in embarrassment, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.
Why is he watching me eat? Did I spill something on myself?
Just as she was going to ask him if something was the matter, he swiveled his head back to his own plate. She reached for her glass as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He held his knife and fork in the wrong hand, making awkward cuts that didn’t get all the way through the meat, even with it being as tender as it was. He sawed relentlessly, letting out the smallest grunt of frustration.
He must have felt her eyes on him as he picked his head up, stopping his efforts to cut the meat. She hastily set her glass back down and lowered her eyes to her plate again. It was clear that he had no idea what he was doing. She wanted to help him, she wanted to offer to show him how it was done, but her manners kept her from saying anything.
Instead, she reached for her utensils again, moving deliberately, hoping he was still watching her. She cut through the meat, switched her fork to her other hand, and brought it to her mouth with ease. It was as much of a demonstration as her manners allowed her to give. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass Laird Knox or make him feel uncomfortable.
When she chanced a glance up again, she didn’t fail to notice that Laird Knox had abandoned his fork, knife, and plate. He had pushed everything away from him and tossed his soiled napkin on the table. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, either. Rather, his eyes were glued to the floor, examining his boots as he drank the rest of his wine.
He didn’t make an effort to talk with her anymore and she had run out of things to say. So she ate the rest of her dinner in silence, wondering how he had gotten full off of such little food. Bread and wine wasn’t enough to satisfy her own stomach, let alone the stomach of a man almost twice her size.
She said nothing, allowing the silence to creep back in and take up permanent residence in the room.
