Chapter 7
That evening, Rose sat down to dinner with the Laird, surprised to see the entirety of those within the castle gathered in the enormous dining hall, all eating as one. It was so informal compared to the lofty dinners she was used to attending on behalf of her friends and family throughout the ton.
High and low were enjoying their meals together. It was…splendid.
Still, as soon as Rose had sat down at the table next to the Laird, she could feel the room collectively turn and stare at her.
It had backed off some once everyone began to eat, but it was clear that all those who sat around the table were still on edge, and it was even more obvious that the awkwardness was on account of her presence.
Just focus on your plate, Rose. Keep a polite air. You are new here, and it is understandable for them to be cautious.
Eilidh had been a wonderful guide through the castle. She’d spoken at length about all the duties that would be required of Rose, including the increasingly nerve-wracking concept of socializing with the clan members and being seen among the people.
It was not so much the idea of being seen or even working hard to ensure that they had what they required that set Rose on edge.
It was the notion of being in front of people and being judged harshly before they even knew her.
She was well aware of how the Scots—particularly the Highlanders—viewed the English, and in many ways, she did not blame them.
There had been tensions between their two countries for hundreds of years.
Still, Rose wanted to do her best for her. She was an optimist, yes, but she was also willing to put in the work. Rose hoped that they would soon see that about her.
“What on earth are ye doing there, me Lady?”
Rose glanced over to her right, where Oskar sat next to her. He eyed her with a brow up, a smirk on his face. She looked down at her plate, where his gaze was sharply fixed, and nervous energy crawled up her spine. Had she done something wrong?
There weren’t the numerous courses or plate clearings as she might have expected. It was very possible that she had missed one of their customs, however, by making a grave mistake.
“I’m sorry,” Rose offered politely, dabbing at her mouth gently before resting her napkin back in her lap. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“At ease, me Lady,” Oskar chuckled. “I only mean that ye take such dainty bites of yer food. It’s like ye’re a bird or wee mouse. How ye arenae eaten by yer own stomach for the length of time it takes ye to clear yer plate, I daenae ken.”
Heat burst through her cheeks, undoubtedly making Rose turn bright pink. She was so embarrassed, and it struck her that she never would have considered eating politely—as she’d been taught her entire life—could be viewed as a bad thing in this particular situation.
“Oh, I…”
Rose’s words died in her throat, and she looked around the long table where she sat, realizing that everyone else around her was taking to their food heartily.
In fact, it very well could have been viewed as a distaste for what she was consuming based on what she was seeing.
Regret hit her, and when she looked up at the Laird, whose gaze she felt heating her skin, he looked as if he were barely restraining his annoyance.
His jaw muscles worked as he stared straight down at his plate, tearing free some of the meat—a delicious venison, in fact—and plopping it in his mouth.
Oh, blast.
At once, Rose realized that the Laird was waiting for her to stop being so prim. He glanced sidelong at her plate, that tension in his jaw flexing, and she silently cursed. She’d offended him, which was entirely the opposite of what she was trying to do here.
Correcting herself, Rose set her fork and knife down on either side of her plate, reaching for the thick piece of meat in front of her.
Admittedly, it had been quite challenging to cut through the portion with her utensils, being that they were not especially sharp and had short tines.
With her fingers, she ripped a bit of the venison free and ate it up.
A tiny moan escaped her at the taste now that she could properly enjoy it, and Rose began to make quick work of her food, not caring that she needed to wipe her mouth more frequently or that her fingers would be joining in where usually they remained clean.
After a moment, Rose realized that it was quiet around her, and she looked up, seeing the entire room full of people watching her enjoy the food properly. It appeared everyone needed to see her drop her pretenses and English propriety. It made sense, she supposed, so she’d give them exactly that.
Picking up the bit of venison, she held it up over her plate and sank her teeth into the delicious meat, digging into the hearty food like a proper Highlander. A chuckle erupted from Oskar next to her, and he patted her on the back, nearly launching the food out of her mouth.
“There now!” He raised his glass of ale, holding it near her hand, and Rose picked up her own. “Slàinte mhath!”
The cups clinked together in a toast, and Rose found herself smiling. It was quickly followed by short cheers of approval from those around her, and she nodded happily as the clan clapped and held up mirrored cheers.
But as the ale touched her tongue, Rose coughed, choking slightly. It was like nothing she’d had in England, so much stronger to be sure, and she was quickly caught up in coughing, her eyes watering.
“Och, here, lass. A bit of water.” Laird MacKay took the cup from Rose’s hand, replacing it with an even smaller one.
She looked down at the clear liquid, utterly shocked that he might offer her something so notoriously bad for one’s health.
“I assure ye, lass. It has been taken from only the cleanest springs. We’ve nay trouble drinking it here.”
Taking a sip of the water, Rose relished the cool, crisp liquid that eased the burn she’d experienced because of the ale, not looking at the Laird when he spoke next.
“Nor do we have much with the ale, though, apparently it is verra different from what the English make.”
Rose reeled back, casting a furious glance up at Dominik with her lips parted in shock. He was making a jest out of her lack of knowledge. She had just arrived here, knew nothing of the culture, and on her first evening, she was being met with cruel words cast at her expense.
“Are you mocking me? How dare you. To poke fun when I just—Ugh. I will not be made a fool of on the first night in the castle. Is this to be how you treat your wife for the entirety of our arrangement?”
Dominik frowned, his brows sinking low over his vibrant green eyes. “For goodness’ sake, lass. I’m nae trying to harm yer pride. It isnae surprising that ye’re nae prepared for Scottish ale.”
“Not that you provided any type of warning about the drink or dinner, for that matter. How was I to know that I would upset your people—upset you—by simply eating as I always have? You would do well to improve your communication skills, Laird MacKay.”
The words were far too direct. Rose knew it at once, but it was impossible to take them back. Dominik glared at her, turning in his seat as he blindly grabbed for his mug of ale and downed a healthy portion.
She’d hardly meant for their conversation to devolve in this way, but it seemed inevitable that the two of them would be at each other’s throats.
From their first meeting, all they seemed to do was butt heads.
Neither of them was willing to back down, and Rose knew well enough how that stubbornness of character would cause issue.
Still, she would not be talked down to. Rose had been through too much because of Lord Egerton. She would be treated with respect, or the Laird could fight for an annulment and lose the land holdings he’d only just acquired.
“I willnae be told what to learn at me own table, lass. It would do ye well to remember whose castle ye indeed reside in. And the water was to help ye. I could have let ye sit there and continue to choke.”
Her mouth dropped open, the sound of barely stifled laughter hanging around them.
“Perhaps you would be better off if you had.” Rose stood from the table, her chair making a terrible screech as it moved across the stone floor. “Good evening, Laird MacKay. Do enjoy the rest of your meal. I unfortunately do not feel well enough to do so myself. Apologies.”
She took off out of the room, hearing Peggy hot on her trail.
Rose would not endure another minute of being the outcast in a room full of people who’d already decided to hate her.
This marriage was meant to free her and her family from hardship.
But it appeared that the arrangement would be so much worse than she originally imagined.