Chapter Four
For you, my lady. Sugared almonds.” A pink-cheeked boy with bright red hair placed the sweets on the high table, carefully
setting them next to the trencher Gelis shared with the Raven. “My lord thought you might like them.”
“I am fond of sweets.” Gelis reached for one, her words causing the boy’s flush to deepen. “Thank you.”
Beside her, Ronan stiffened. “Sugared almonds are Cook’s favored fare, offered to all Dare’s guests.”
“Say you?” She had her doubts about that, but flashed her best smile all the same.
Seeming not to notice, her newly handfasted husband applied himself to the roasted meat on the trencher.
Not about to let him spoil the moment, she picked up the bowl of nuts and held it out to the boy. “Why don’t you take a handful
for yourself?”
“Och, I have my own.” His small chest puffing, he produced a grubby leather pouch, opening it to reveal a portion of the sticky
treats. “Lord Ronan wanted me to have them.”
“Ah, is that so?” She slid a glance at him, pitching her voice for his ears alone. “You already mentioned how infrequently
guests honor Dare, but I am pleased to see that you are fond of children.”
“Hector is a good lad.” He set down his cup without looking at her. “He tends Dare’s dogs and helps with the chickens.”
“I will soon have more duties.” The boy’s face lit with importance. “The lord has promised me a sgian dubh when he next leaves the glen. Once I have it, I shall join the night patrol. They’ve chosen me to train because I have sharp
eyes.”
“And if you had a fine dirk now?” Gelis spoke to the lad, but turned a questioning look on the Raven. “I might have the perfect
sgian dubh for you.”
Hector’s eyes rounded. “You do?”
“If she does, you may have it.” Ronan gave approval, his face hard-set though his words were kind.
Gelis winked at him. “I have gifts for you, too.” She leaned close, making sure her breasts brushed his sleeve. “If you would
but have them!”
In answer, his jaw tightened.
He said nothing.
A few seats away, Valdar slapped the table. “A spirited gel, what did I say?”
Next to him, Duncan hrumphed. “I vow this hall will soon be ringing with her liveliness.” Leaning around his host, he aimed
a pointed glance at her. “Mind your outbursts, lass, or you might find yourself back home before a year and a day rolls around.”
“Dare is my home now.” Gelis returned his stare, her chin lifted. “I shall not be returning to Eilean Creag save to visit.”
This time it was the Raven who hrumped.
His grandfather hooted.
Encouraged by the old man’s mirth, Gelis edged closer to Ronan, near enough so that he couldn’t help but catch her precious
attar of roses scent. Triumph hers, she watched his nose quiver. Sadly, the rest of him remained as rigid as if he were made
of granite.
She forced a smile, undaunted.
Seduction was her game.
And she meant to win.
“Dare was as good as your home — once!” Valdar’s booming voice sounded again as he reached to clink his wine cup against Duncan’s.
“You would be wise to remember those days and have done with your fomenting. It serves naught. The deed is done, by all the
Powers!”
“ ’Tis still a hard matter.” Duncan swung around to cast a dark look at Sir Marmaduke. “Even if some have forgotten their
own ill ease none so long ago.”
“There are times we must be satisfied with what the fates give us.” Sir Marmaduke lifted the wine flagon and refilled his
cup. “In especial, once a deed is done.”
The Black Stag’s brows snapped together.
Sir Marmaduke merely sipped his wine.
“He but speaks the truth, Father.” Gelis wriggled the fingers of her left hand, proud of her new ring’s sparkle. “ ’Tis too
late for objections.”
Valdar slapped the table again. “So I said, just!”
Tight-lipped, Duncan held his peace.
Glad for it, Gelis turned back to Hector. The lad still hovered at her elbow, so she flipped aside her golden waist-chain
and its bauble, revealing a delicate sgian dubh at her hip. It was a child’s dagger, and its beautifully worked horn handle gleamed in the torchlight.
“This is a special dirk,” she said, handing it to the boy. “My brother Robbie gave it to me when I was about your age. Our
father fashioned it for him, and I’ve kept it as a talisman. It will serve you well.”
“O-o-o-h, it shall! I thank you.” Hector curled his fingers around the dirk’s sheath. “Wait until the lads in the kitchens
see this.”
“You misremember, lass.” Duncan spoke up as soon as the boy darted away with his prize. “ ’Twas your uncle Kenneth who gave
Robbie that wee blade,” he reminded her. “He made it in the good years, before he turned —”
“Now is not the time to speak of that one.” Sir Marmaduke placed a hand on his arm. “Be glad Gelis has an admirer in the lad.
His merriment will prove a greater talisman than any child’s miniature dagger.”
The Black Stag shook his arm free. “She shouldn’t have need of a talisman! By all the saints, I shall be glad when —”
“It will gladden you even more, Kintail, to hear that she has no need of such a token.” Ronan set down his eating knife. “No
harm shall touch her.”
Gelis put aside her own knife. The way he’d said “no harm shall touch her” made her chest tighten and the tops of her ears
burn.
Something told her he meant he wouldn’t touch her.
Not harm, but him.
His hands, and in all the ways she’d dreamed of being caressed by a husband.
Caressed and loved.
Her heart thumping, she lowered her lashes, eyeing him as surreptitiously as possible. Unfortunately, the truth of her suspicion
stood etched all over him. Never had she seen a man so determined not to notice her.
Not wanting to believe it, she shifted in her chair, deliberately pressing her knee against his thigh, a ploy that made him
jerk away faster than if she’d jabbed him with a white-hot fire poker.
She frowned and withdrew her knee, opting for another tactic.
“Perhaps you should try the sugared almonds.” She nudged the bowl in his direction. “Their sweetness might improve your mood.”
His expression darkened. “There is naught under the heavens capable of such a feat, my lady. Not sugared almonds. Nor one
so fair as you.”
“So you find me appealing?”
“You would take any man’s breath.” He looked at her, his gaze piercing. “As well you know.”
“You do not look very breathless.” She had the boldness to jut her chin at him, her amber eyes glittering with irritation.
His own annoyance riding him, Ronan ignored her pique. The uncomfortable way her very presence made him suspect that one wee
slip in his dealings with her might see the course of his life changing.
And in ways he couldn’t control.
His grandfather’s jollity as he jested with her father proved equally bitter. Valdar’s every hooted laugh and eye twinkle
twisted his innards, as did the hope brightening the faces of Dare’s guardsmen, the bursts of good cheer rising from the trestle
tables.
Such gaiety wouldn’t last.
One glance at the tightly closed hall windows proved it. Already, threads of mist slipped in through the shutter slats. Long,
slithering tendrils hushed along the hall’s outermost tables, dousing candles and causing the hanging crusie lamps to splutter
and extinguish.
As did Ronan’s brief and mad hope of seizing his unexpected fortune and risking another chance at love.
So he did what he could, reaching for a rib of fire-roasted beef, then drawing back his hand to pull his earlobe instead.
At once, a stir and racket ensued at the next table as Torcaill the druid pushed to his feet.
“I, Torcaill of Ancient Fame, do bless the Raven and his lady!” His strong voice rising, he lifted his walking stick, shaking
it heavenward. “May they prosper in the name and glory of the Old Ones!”
Cheers rose and the mist wraiths withdrew, disappearing back through the closed shutters whence they’d come.
Torcaill made one last flourish with his slachdan druidheachd, the great druidic wand seeming to shimmer and glow as he lowered it.
He looked round, the spread-winged raven decorating his robe gleaming in the torchlight. “I wish you a fair night — one and
all!”
Valdar half-rose from his chair. “Ho, Torcaill!” he yelled when the druid turned and strode away. “The night is no’ yet by
with. You must bless the bridal bed.”
“All has been said.” Torcaill paused, one hand clutching his staff, the other pressed against his berobed hip. “My bones are
aching and I seek my own bed. Your grandson and his lady have my fullest sanction and the goodwill of the Ancients. ’Tis enough.”
“Word is you dinna even have a bed!” Valdar hooted, slamming down his wine cup. “Or did I have bog cotton in my ears all the
times you’ve sworn you canna be bothered by sleep?”
“I will see he reaches his cottage safely.” Ronan stood. “The mist is thick this night. I’d no’ want him to stumble ere he
reaches his door.”
Then, before the stunned faces at the high table could sway him, he strode from the dais, leaving kith and kin to think what
they might.
If he’d planned rightly, Lady Gelis wouldn’t be so eager to press her knee against him again.
Her knee, or any other part of her delectable, rose-scented self.
Much as he’d regret it.
“She’s one of the chosen, I tell you.” Torcaill stepped from the dark of the trees almost as soon as Ronan let himself out
a little- used gate in the castle’s outer walling. “The brilliance of her nigh blinded me.”
Ronan suppressed the urge to snort. “She is a bright one, aye.” He looked at the druid, almost adding that the great green
bauble glittering at the vee of her thighs all night had near blinded him.
That, and other things.
Not to mention the effect of the top crests of her nipples. Pert and crinkly crescents of a fine rosy hue, they’d peeked above
her bodice each time she deigned to draw a particularly deep breath.
Which, he’d observed, she’d done far too often.
He frowned, his jaw and other places tightening.