Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tearloch watched Kenna across the room while she surreptitiously spied on him. She couldn’t seem to resist staring at his bare chest while his arm was cleaned and sewn shut again. And each time he sensed her attention leave him, he took the chance to look his fill.
He had never watched someone arrange a lady’s hair before, and he was surprised by how violent the process could be. But his lass never complained, even when tears were brought to her eyes.
His lack of grace when speaking to women was much less a problem since meeting his bride-to-be, touching her, and holding her in his arms. Would that he could have met her sooner and avoided many an awkward moment in Malcolm’s court in the past year. As with many things, it only took practice.
Wouldn’t Malcolm be surprised—if only he would ride through the gates! Where was the man?
Kenna watched with regret when he finally dropped a clean leine over his head and reached for his tunic. But one day soon, her curiosity and his own would be satisfied. In the meantime, he didn’t mind torturing her.
He caught her attention and nodded toward the door. “No need hidin’ in here, my lady. Would ye accompany me to the hall and we shall find something to dine upon?”
Her eyes widened. “The hall?”
“Would somewhere else be more appealing? And pray, do not say MacPherson land.”
She shook her head. “The hall would be welcome. Anywhere is welcome. These walls have had enough of me.”
Even with her hand on Tearloch’s arm, entering the hall as it filled with the people of Lochahearn felt much like walking into the lion’s den. Men bowed and women curtsied as they passed, but the smiles for their laird did not extend to Kenna. Most eyes narrowed at her.
No. Not a lion’s den, but a den of angry cats.
At first, she believed Tearloch was oblivious until she noted the set of his jaw.
His smile was as false as her own. He laid a gentle hand atop hers, but the arm beneath it was hard as stone.
As they neared the dais, Leland, Kincaid, Jamie and Duncan stood at the high table and applauded.
The rest of the hall joined in, albeit reluctantly.
She leaned her head against Tearloch’s upper arm and whispered, “Now I understand why you meant your room was a protection. I wonder if my presence will put everyone off their meal.”
“It would serve them rightly,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice. He seated her to his left, where an honored guest would sit. Perhaps he meant it as a signal. But he couldn’t well place her to his right, where a wife should be.
She consoled herself with the fact that there was no other woman about to fill that seat, for even though she’d thrown an eating knife at the man a wee while ago, it had broken her heart to do it.
Kenna shook her head to push away the emotions she had awakened with. Tearloch Chattan, she reminded herself. My mind played a trick. Revenge can wait for another day, when I am well away from here.
Food was brought to the table—a charger placed before the laird, then the captains, and finally one was placed before her. A smaller portion, but the food smelled tasty.
Tearloch promptly reached for it and pulled it in front of himself, then pushed his charger to put in place of the smaller one.
Kenna protested. “This is far too much for me, Sir Tearloch.”
He ignored her and ate from the small plate but gave her a sober wink that demanded she trust him.
Answering some unspoken order, Leland reached an arm to take the small plate from his laird, then ate from it as well. And while she watched, her intended meal was passed all the way around the table. It was only when it reached her again that she realized what they’d done.
The cooks and servants would know that to poison her was to poison them all.
With a satisfied smile on his face, Tearloch speared a piece of meat from the large trencher and fed it to her. And then, with a slight flair, he presented her with the fine eating knife.
The hall fell silent. She was being watched closer than she’d imagined.
Did she accept it?
Tearloch gave her a nod.
She welcomed the blade with both hands. “Thank you, my lord. I promise not to return it…as I returned the last one.”
He choked, then laughed. His men joined in, laughing louder and harder than her comment warranted, and they continued until the tension in the hall subsided.
The high table was forgotten and meals were consumed.
Nothing from the kitchens went to waste.
Kenna allowed Tearloch to feed her a full half of his meal before she could take no more.
And old woman with strong arms and a bent back came to stand behind Tearloch and wait for his notice. He introduced her as the cook.
“Welcome home, Sir Tearloch,” she said, then presented him with a small pie. “Cherries, sir. Yer favorite.”
“Auch, Una, ye remember still. And I am beholden.”
“Go on with ye! Young Tearloch speakin’ so easily now. Perhaps my food has loosened yer tongue?”
He smiled directly into Kenna’s eyes. “Something has, madame. Something surely has.”
The cook looked at her and smiled with only a heartbeat of hesitation. “If ye fancy cherries, my lady, I will bring another.”
“I do, but I have eaten my fill of your fine things,” Kenna said. “More than I was allowed to eat in one week, let alone one sitting. And the most delicious of my life, I am sure of it.”
Though she believed she had given the cook a great compliment, the woman’s brows pinched together, and she gave Tearloch a worried glance before she bobbed her head to them both and hurried away.
Kenna leaned close and turned her head so those watching could not read her words on her lips. “Did I insult her, somehow? I truly meant no offense.”
With a closed expression, Tearloch gave his head a shake. “Nay, lass. Perhaps she is not accustomed to such high praise, but she heard it all the same.”
Jamie slammed his eating knife on the table. There was fire in his eyes, which he turned on Duncan. The older man covered his hand as if to soothe him, but Jamie shook his head, stood, and excused himself.
None of the captains would meet her eye. And soon, Duncan went after the young man.
“Dinnae mind those two,” Monroe said. “There is a squabble they have yet to settle.” Then he deserted them and took Kincaid with him.
One of the servant girls from the day before carried Kenna’s cloak to the table. Tearloch nodded to her. “Would ye care to walk the grounds with me?”
A pretense of freedom was better than no freedom at all. “Happily, sir.”