Page 42 of A Virgin for the Icy Laird
She sat to his right, pushing her food around her plate, which unsettled him. He could not focus. Her forlorn expression alone had killed his appetite.
She had jerked her head in his direction once, when Alec wedged himself between them, whining for her attention. She snuck him a bite of goat meat, and he wagged his tail gratefully against Adair’s leg.
The dog was huge, its tail thick and heavy. When it wagged, it did with enough force to split stale bread. And a force strong enough to break bread was enough to wound a man.
Adair winced. He kicked his foot into the dog’s arse to shoo him away, but he had miscalculated. His boot met Emily’s shin in a not-painful but brusque way that made her jump and gape at him. Her fork crashed loudly against her plate, but the sound was thankfully drowned by the hum of conversation around them.
“Forgive me.” He leaned in, but she turned away as quickly as she’d looked at him.
It must have stung. Have I offended her in some way?
He could not deny that something had transpired between them last night. Before then, their relationship had been strained by the ill-advised kiss and the pendant. After their conversation, he felt order had been restored considerably.
That morning, he’d been too busy to stop for a chat, but she’d responded positively. Her smile had warmed him, making the eventful day bearable. He had not even scolded Callum when he found out that he had used up his allowance, though he itched to do so, considering his brother had refused to say why he had been hovering in Emily’s corridor the day before.
Nothing could have turned her heart against him between their greeting and dinner because he had done absolutely nothing.
A thought came to mind. Someone else might be the cause of her anger.
His jaw ticked. Was the staff not showing her proper respect because of the circumstances of her arrival?
It was not possible. He had given clear instructions to Mrs. Donnelly to take care of her. Surely age could not have eroded her competency.
Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of her laughter. He looked up from his wine to find her leaning into the man beside her.
Who dared place her next to another man?
Possessiveness surged through him, but he immediately checked it. He did not have feelings for her. Besides, their betrothal was fake. She could smile at any man she pleased. She intended to marry, after all.
“Ye have a rather lovely laugh, Lady Emily,” the cad said smoothly. “I am honored to have heard it.”
“Ye flatter me,” she responded.
“I speak only the truth.”
Her face lit up. She hid her smile behind her hands and listened with rapt attention to whatever the man said.
Adair did not like the way she watched his lips, but who was he not to? He did not have feelings for her, after all.
But Laird Adair MacDonnell, who commanded a battalion of soldiers, directed a castle full of servants, and managed lands vaster than the eye could see, bent the knee to a frown.
The cad was Alistair Murray, a friend of Callum’s from his school days, and he was abusing his hospitality.
Callum needed to understand that it was inappropriate for a groom to bring guests in the lead-up to his wedding. From tomorrow, he shall. If he wanted his allowance, that was.
“Wine?” Adair offered, holding up a pitcher.
Emily tucked the hair curled around her jaw behind her ear. Even while she looked at him, she did not lean away from Alistair.
Their fake betrothal did not allow her the freedom to give another man all her attention.
Her throat bobbed. She eyed the pitcher, then reached for it, but he held it away. He could damn well pour his fiancée some wine.
“Thank ye,” she croaked, then turned back to Alistair.
“It is no problem,” Adair said to the back of her head.
She looked over when he just twisted away. He did not want her thinking that he was purposely avoiding her, so he looked back at her, but she turned her face away again.
