Page 29 of A Nameless Highland Laird
“Och, lass,” he muttered. “This is another one of those things that I think will cause ye to want to do away with me once ye hear the truth.”
“Is this like the last confession? The one that did nae matter in the slightest?”
He smiled at her attempt to make him feel better. Even his confessions were little more than half truths, but it was all he could offer her so it would have to do.
“I think this one is a wee bit more important than a difference in hobbies.” He took in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to admit. “I sent the servants away because I dinnae want them to bear witness to my shame. In truth, I have never been able to master table manners. I dinnae eat much in front of ye because I dinnae want ye to think that I am a slob.”
“B-but ye are a Laird. How did yer mother let ye get away with never learning table manners?” she questioned as gently as she could manage.
“She died when I was verra young. Without her around, there was nay one to truly care about my lack of manners. At least nae until now,” he offered with a shy smile.
Her eyes softened.
“My mother died when I was young too,” she whispered. “It is hard to find someone to fill the gap they leave behind.”
He nodded solemnly, knowing well the pain that she was talking about. Of course, she didn’t fully grasp that without his mother, he was left with no one to take care of him. Table manners had been the least of his worries when he was a child just trying to survive.
“Would ye like for me to teach ye?”
Her question had him blinking in surprise.
No one had offered him such a thing yet. Even though Alastair knew of his lack of etiquette, there had been too much else for his advisor to focus on. It had been easier for everyone if Cameron just didn’t eat in front of others. Her offer was so genuine and kindly put that he couldn’t help but find himself nodding.
“Aye. I would like that verra much. As long as ye dinnae tell anyone about this. I cannae imagine what anyone else would think—a Laird learning proper eating habits from his guest.”
“Dinnae fash. It will stay our secret,” she promised.
With a quick glance down at the table, her brows furrowed and she huffed.
“Ye will need to help me. I will come sit next to ye so ye can see everything I am doing.”
They moved quickly, picking up her plate to be in the spot next to his rather than across. She settled into the chair and he immediately questioned why they didn’t dine like that every night.
Without hesitation, she jumped in to explaining everything to him. She started by labeling the different sized forks and spoons and what they were used for. She showed him how to drape a napkin across his lap. She even helped him find the right posture for sitting at the table, his elbows perched just off the edge.
“Now we get to the actual eating,” she told him with a smile.
One by one she went through the dishes laid out on the table and showed him how to serve each item onto his plate without making a mess. It took him a few tries, but he found that he was able to pick things up rather quickly.
As his confidence grew, so did their camaraderie. They worked through the courses of the meal with ease. Soon their conversation flowed freely as he was able to focus on her rather than his utter lack of manners. The minutes turned to hours, with only the dwindling fire in the hearth to signal just how much time had passed.
He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t remember ever enjoying a meal quite so much, but that felt like he would be pushing things a bit too far. They were still warming up to each other and he didn’t want to say or do anything that would push her back into her cool reserve again.
“I still cannae believe that Blake was able to talk me into sliding down the stair rail. Our father was so angry with us, I never let Blake talk me into anything ever again,” Charlotte said with a laugh.
Her eyes twinkled in fondness as she recalled her childhood memories. His own smile had crept onto his face as he listened to her talk and watched her joy spread. There was a pang of old grief that surfaced too, reminding him that he never got to have those memories with his brother and sister. There were no stories of them narrowly escaping danger or getting each other into trouble. He could hardly even recall their faces. But as he listened to Charlotte in rapt attention, he found that the sting of their separation was not as sharp as it once was.
“I always thought a house full of bairns made life more interesting,” he commented, sipping the last of his wine.
She blinked and the joy that had been so clearly on her face dwindled. It was then that he realized just what he had implied with his comment, but it was too late to go back and reclaim his statement, so he let it hang in the air over them and waited to see what she would do with it.
“I did nae realize just how late it had gotten,” she answered after another moment of silence. “I am sure that ye have other things to tend to this evening and I dinnae want to keep my maid up.”
Her response wasn’t what he had hoped for, but he understood it all the same. At the very least, he consoled himself, she still spoke warmly to him. He had not fumbled so badly as to send her back into her shell—just her room.
“Aye, it is late,” he agreed, standing with her. “Thank ye for joinin’ me for dinner. I hope tonight was more enjoyable than last night.”
She sent him a wide smile.
