Chapter 3 #2
Once they were seated, Malcolm poured them each a goblet of wine. “Fine French wine, Laird Mackenzie, as ye please.”
Ewan raised his glass. “Tae yer continued good health Lady Tyra. Slàinte mhath.”
She raised hers in salute. “And tae yers, Laird Mackenzie.”
Two scullery maids brought out platters and placed the meal on the table in front of them. Steam rose from the stew and Tyra found her mouth watering at she breathed the fragrant aroma.
The two serving maids stood and stared at her for a moment before turning and scurrying off. The sound of their giggles floated back from the kitchen.
Tyra smoothed away a long strand of hair that had come loose from her braids and tucked it behind her ears, all of a sudden uncomfortably aware of her untidy appearance.
Her dress was coated in mud around the hem and there was a slight tear in her skirt, while her hair was far from the neat coiffure she was used to.
Being always careful of her appearance, her state of dishevelment caused her cheeks to burn in embarrassment.
It was unseemly for her to be seen in public in anything less than immaculate attire.
“Dae I have a smear of mud on me face Laird Mackenzie? I am a little discomfited by the maids’ amusement at me appearance.”
He examined her face, this way and that, for a little too long, his searching gaze causing her cheeks to burn more fiercely.
“Aye, milady, there is a wee speck of mud on yer face.” He grinned and reached a hand to touch the tip of her nose, leaving it perhaps a moment longer than he had intended.
She blushed and rubbed a finger on it when he removed his.
“Is it gone?”
He was chuckling, making a show of regarding her, peering closely at her nose. “Hmm. Nay, I believe it is only a wee freckle after all.”
She smiled. “Ye’re foolin’ me!”
“Aye. I admit tae the crime.”
He reached for her glass to pour more wine and their fingertips touched for the briefest moment.
Och.
There was that sliver of lightning striking her heart again.
She took a gulp of the wine and looked up at him from under her lashes.
Me goodness, he is a handsome lad.
A tad flustered she turned her attention to the bowl of venison stew in front of her and spooned in a mouthful.
“Mm. Me compliments tae Malcolm’s wife, this is delicious.”
“Seems we’re in luck. I’ve granted him permission tae take a deer from me estate every month and make good use of it here in the inn. If the weather wasnae so bad, there’d have been many folk here tae dine, so it is likely there’d have been nay venison left fer us tae sup.”
The two scullery maids appeared again, removing their dishes and providing servings of puddings and little almond and honey cakes. Again, she felt their eyes on her.
Her sweet tooth was such that she found it impossible to resist the delectable-looking confections.
She took a cake and nibbled it, and when she was done her fingers sticky with honey.
Without thinking, she licked her finger, savoring the last scrap of the honeyed tidbit.
Glancing up, she caught Ewan’s eyes fixed on her mouth.
“Excuse me.” She felt her cheeks flush with heat. “I forgot me manners fer a moment.”
“Dinnae fash, lass.” He smiled and for a moment Tyra forgot her awkwardness, smiling back and taking another gulp of wine. And another.
The terror of the day’s events had cut her to the bone and the Laird Ewan’s attentiveness and the wine helped dampen the horror for a brief while.
As the evening wore on, she felt herself becoming sleepy.
She looked around the empty parlor, stifling a yawn.
The journey and the terrible events of the afternoon were weighing heavily on her.
All at once a wave of dizziness swept over her, causing her head to swim.
She clutched the arm of her chair to steady herself.
Placing a hand to her throat she shook her head. “Methinks I should take tae me bed, Laird Ewan”.
Oh dear. The walls seem tae be tipping and wavering alarmingly. Whatever is happening?
She rose a little too quickly, her feet almost tripping over each other, her legs unsteady. The room was definitely swaying.
Ewan leapt to his feet and grabbed her arm. She clutched him with both hands. If not for his support she would have ended in a heap on the floor.
“This place has the most devilishly uneven floors,” she said, holding tightly to his sleeve. “I can scarcely keep meself upright.” She giggled. “Ye must forgive me, Laird Ewan.”
Straightening her spine and raising her chin, she released her grip on his sleeve.
“I thank ye, but I am quite all right now.” She shrugged aside his proffered hand.
“Nay bother, sire, I am quite all right.” With another breathless giggle, she took two steps forward, her hands outstretched for balance.
She turned to him. “See, I’ve nay need of support. ” And then she veered toward the wall.
“Oh!” She clutched the table and swung around to face Ewan. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Ye’ve nay cause tae laugh, milaird. Mayhap, after all, I dae require yer hand tae keep me upright.”
He hastily reached out his hand. Tyra clung to it tightly, unable to progress any further, her feet utterly failing to obey her commands.
Then, with a most annoying expression of amusement on his rugged features, Laird Ewan Mackenzie politely hoisted her into his arms.
“Begging yer pardon, Lady Tyra, tae save us both valuable time, I shall carry ye up the stairs tae yer room.”
“Nay. Nay. I dinnae wish tae be carried.” She squealed and shook her head vigorously as he strode across to the staircase holding her firmly in his strong arms. Mortified, she glanced around. Thank goodness the parlor was empty.
Yet those vexatious maids were peeking around the kitchen door at them, giggling to their impertinent hearts’ content.
“Put me down,” Tyra commanded, trying not to slur the words.
Ignoring her, he ascended the stairs, carrying her with the same ease as he’d lifted her into his saddle. She uttered an indignant huff, and then without another thought, she found her arms winding around his neck as he clasped her to his massive chest.
It was not an altogether hateful sensation to be enveloped in his arms, feeling his heart beating close to hers, his warm, hard body against her and his breath in her hair. She nuzzled her tired head on his shoulder, her eyes drooping as sleep began to claim her.