Chapter 12 #2
Ewan skimmed the contract for the land to Ross once more, and his gut twisted with dislike. After all the years of constant attacks from the Ross clan and what Ross had done to his own granddaughter, the idea of deeding over the land felt like a reward for nefarious deeds.
The savory scent of a meal tugged at Ewan’s awareness, and his stomach issued a low, hungry rumble. He lifted the stones, so the parchment curled in on itself, and tucked the document into his drawer. He would consider it tomorrow. Again.
Ross’s patience would only last so long. Ewan needed to come up with a solution, and soon.
He arrived in the Great Hall as everyone else was taking their seats for the evening meal. His gaze found Faye, and his heart gave a solid kick against his ribs.
“I don’t want to be loved.”
Such words were hard to absorb.
He settled into the large, ornate chair on the dais beside her. She was resplendent in a red kirtle with a gleam of gold glinting from her circlet.
She cast him an anxious glance. “Ye’re displeased with me.”
He considered her words. She hadn’t made him discontented; it was her determination to not fall in love that vexed him.
“I canna force ye to want anything,” he replied in a quiet voice for her ears only. “Especially no’ love.”
She nodded and nervously touched the metal stem of her goblet. Her fingers were elegant, graceful as they stroked over the metal.
“’Tis no’ because of ye.” She paused until the maid delivering bowls of bread walked away. “I…” She released the goblet, and her fingers twisted against one another in her lap. “There has been much betrayal in my life.”
“And it’s made ye hesitant to trust,” Ewan surmised.
She nodded slowly.
Understanding dawned on Ewan then. It wasn’t that Faye didn’t want love. It was that she was afraid.
That, at least, was something he could manage.
But now was not the time for platitudes or trying to sway her with words. Not when actions worked so much better.
“I’d like to know what happened, but only as ye feel comfortable telling me,” Ewan said. “I’ll no’ force anything from ye. Especially no’ a feeling.”
Her rigid demeanor relaxed somewhat.
“Ye assumed the role of mistress of the castle today, aye?” He inspected the table, set with fresh linen and dotted with sprigs of heather.
Color flushed at her cheeks. “Aye. And I had the cook prepare one of yer favorite meals.”
“Ye know my favorite meal?” Pleasure rushed through him that she would be mindful of what he’d eaten to try to accommodate his tastes. It was a considerate gesture. Especially from a woman who claimed not to want to be loved.
She grinned at him. “I believe I am correct in what ye like.”
A servant carried over a platter and settled it before Ewan. He peered at it and froze. Coils of cooked eel snaked around one another, their dull eyes staring at nothing. A shiver of disgust crept up his spine.
He’d never cared for the wicked looking creatures. Not when they were alive with their serpentine bodies and sharp teeth. And even less when they were dead and set on a plate before him.
Mindful of her stare upon him, he pressed his lips together to stifle his expression.
She looked at the platter and gasped—no doubt in delight.
He steeled himself to force the meal down in an effort to please her. Not just one bite, but many. Enough to fill his belly. He stared down at the glossy, baked skin and bile burned up the back of his throat. Mayhap he’d need to eat an entire one.
“That isn’t what I asked Cook to make.” Faye glanced around the room, as though seeking the man out to speak with him then and there.
Ewan eyed the unappetizing meal before him. “What did ye ask for?”
“Venison,” she replied.
“So, ye dinna order eel intentionally?” Relief eased his tense shoulders.
She shook her head, her expression wounded. “I don’t know what I did wrong. How could I possibly confuse so simple an order?”
“May I confess something to ye?” Ewan nudged his elbow against hers.
She turned her worried gaze up to him and nodded.
“I’m glad ye dinna think I liked this.” He didn’t bother to hide his revulsion for the meal. “I canna stand eel.”
Her mouth curled up with mirth. “Nor can I.” She turned her face away from the platter. “I could go the rest of my life without ever having another.”
“My mum gave up with me when I was a lad.” Ewan chuckled. “I made such a show of it every time it was set before me.”
“It was all my mum could afford after my da died when we were in England,” Faye said. “We ate it for years.” A shiver of revulsion wracked through her, and they both laughed.
Their eyes caught with their shared distaste for the food, and a pleasant warmth hummed in Ewan’s chest. He reached for the bread, his hand hovering. “May I select the finest piece of bread for yer supper this evening, my lady?”
Faye smiled at him and made a show of perusing the small rolls. “That would be most kind of ye.”
He plucked one from the top. “This appears to be the bonniest in the bunch.”
She nodded her thanks as he took one for himself. Together, they split their bread and spread a glossy smear of salted butter over it, while the rest of the castle dined on eel for the first time in nearly a decade.
One of Ewan’s warriors entered the Great Hall at a clipped pace and approached the dais. “Forgive the interruption, sir, but there are several visitors who insist on seeing ye.”
“Several visitors” was vague enough to imply any number of people. Including the Gordon clan, which was the last thing Ewan wanted now that he’d finally removed them all from his home.
“Visitors?” Ewan set his bread on the plate in front of him, no longer plagued with hunger. “Who are they?”
The young man glanced toward Faye. “They claim to be Lady Sutherland’s family.”