Page 7 of The Eagle

She did her best to keep her distance from the men at the high board, which worked well. Keeping her gaze downcast also helped to keep from seeing the unlikable visitor and avoiding Stuart Ross as well.

When she went to the table where the ladies of the household sat, the laird’s wife, Isobel, touched Cait’s lower arm. “Are ye unwell? Ye seem nervous.”

Cait adored the laird’s wife. Since arriving, Isobel had always made her feel welcome and often asked about her mother and brother. “I am well Lady Ross. Thank ye for asking.”

The laird’s mother, Lady Mariel, gave her a quizzical look. “Where do ye live Cait?”

Knowing she’d be in trouble for lingering while Cora had to continue serving, Cait let out a soft sigh. “In a cottage that yer son, my laird, was gracious enough to allow my mother, younger brother, and me to live in. It is near a creek. We are very grateful for it.”

“I am glad to know.” Seeming to understand she had to continue with her duties, the woman smiled and returned her attention to the other women at the table.

Cait hurried back to the kitchen where Greer immediately handed her a tray laden with sweet cakes.

The meal lasted longer than usual. It seemed the visiting laird and his son enjoyed late evenings and partaking of what was offered. Her feet ached as once again she refilled the empty cups of the men who lingered. Most of the room was empty except for the Maclean, his son, Darach, Stuart, and Duncan. The few others that remained were the usual sentries and the laird’s personal guards.

Not wishing to look at the visiting laird’s son, Cait kept her gaze downcast, though she could feel his gaze on her. Once when she’d dare to look from under her lashes, her suspicions were confirmed, he was tracking her every move.

“The potato was delicious,” Stuart said, startling her so that the liquid she poured sloshed over the edge of his cup and onto the tabletop.

“I-I . . .” She grabbed a cloth from a pocket on her apron to clean the spill. “I am glad.” Cait dared to look up for a scant second to meet his gaze and instantly her face heated at his regard.

“Ye scared the poor lass.” She heard his brother, Duncan, say to Stuart as she moved away.

In the kitchen, Greer sat at the table fanning her face with a cloth but had a bright smile at seeing Cait’s empty tray.

“Ye can tell a great deal about a person by the way they treat their hosts,” the cook said shaking her head.

“What do ye mean?” Cait asked, lowering to a chair across from the woman.

“If they have little concern for their guest’s nightly routines and need for rest, then they are not kind people.”

Cait drank lukewarm cider and hungrily gobbled some leftover bread upon which she placed a thin slice of cold meat. “I agree,” she replied between bites.

Cora entered looking entirely limp, her face drawn with exhaustion. “I am so tired,” she complained, but upon seeing the tray of leftovers that Greer had set out for them, she slumped into a chair. “They are finally going to their bedchambers.”

“We will wait a bit and then clean up. It won’t be too long,” Greer said attempting to make light of the hard work ahead.

“Lads,” she called out to the two sleeping boys who were to help with cleaning. “Go fetch the dirty dishes.”

The boys sat up yawned and stretched but didn’t move. One of them, who looked to be about two and ten frowned. “Is it morning?”

Greer chuckled. “It will be soon. So go on and hurry. Get yer job done so ye can get more sleep before I wake ye for morning duties.”

Moments later, Cait and Cora trudged to the great room to complete the tasks of the night. Greer was right, morning would come much too soon.

In the study, Darach was livid. His nostrils flared as he looked to Stuart and Duncan. “An entire day of nothing but revelry and drink. The man has not yet explained what he expects now that I’ve said I won’t turn the men over to him.”

“I do not believe he has any plan, nor does he care really about the men who came seeking asylum. He is here and behaving in such a manner because he believes we owe him an apology,” Stuart explained.

“I will do no such thing,” Darach roared, living up to his moniker of being called: The Lion.

There was something else, but Stuart couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Laird Maclean was old and didn’t seem to have a clear reason for staying longer. However, there was a reason, and he would find out what it was.

Apparently, Duncan thought along the same lines. “Perhaps he has something very important to impart or to ask ye and is waiting for the right time”

Stuart nodded in agreement. “What if we hold an archery competition? The laird announced they would remain for an additional two days. Since we cannot spend the entire time waiting for him to tell us the true reason for the visit. Perhaps if we distract them, he or his son will talk.

“Highland hospitality,” Duncan all but spit out the words. “We should send them on their way. They take advantage.”