Chapter 11
Amara turned over, blinking through her tears.
Rhys’s daughter stood in the doorway. The firelight casting a soft glow on her pale curls and wide eyes. The stuffed rabbit in her arms dropped by one ear.
“Are ye well, miss?” the wee lass asked quietly.
Amara sat up straighter, wiping her face with the sleeve of her gown. Her cheeks were hot and blotchy, her lashes still impossibly wet. “Aye, sweet lass. I’m just… tired. That’s all.”
Daisy took a cautious step forward, then paused. “I heard ye cryin’. Thought maybe ye were hurt.”
Amara’s heart clenched. “Nay, nae hurt. Just… overwhelmed. Do ye ken what that is?” She forced a smile, though her throat burned.
“Aye, me da said it’s when there’s a lot of things happenin' and ye daenae ken what to do about them yet. But he also says that ye feel better after takin’ a nap.”
Amara smiled. “Aye, I feel better now, actually. So, I guess me feelings werenae too overwhelmin'. Ye reckon’?”
“Nay, I always have to nap. Ye could try it, miss, perhaps ye will feel even more better,” the child said, shrugging as she shifted the rabbit in her arms and opened her mouth to speak again, but then flinched at a sharp noise down the corridor. Footsteps, fast and heavy, echoed off the stone.
Daisy turned her head toward the hall, then gave Amara one last look. “I’ll go,” she whispered, already backing out of the room. “Da will be cross if I’m nae in bed.”
Before Amara could respond, the wee lass had disappeared like a shadow, the door softly clicking shut behind her.
Silence returned. For a moment, Amara just say there, her hands limp in her lap.
Then came another knock that was much firmer this time, and it made her flinch.
“Me lady? It’s Nina, but I cannae get the handle.”
Amara jumped out of bed and lunged toward the door. Nina entered with a wide wooden tray, her eyes warm but worried.
The scent hit Amara before she could speak. It was the dinner from downstairs, brought up to her, as she had requested.
And here I thought that I wouldnae be eatin’ at all… given that reception…
“Aye, I bet ye might have been thinkin’ ye wouldnae be gettin’ anythin’ sent up, nae after all that happened doon in the dinin’ hall,” Nina surmised, as if reading her mind.
Amara’s stomach gave a loud, pathetic growl.
Nina blinked at the noise, then gave a small smile as she crossed the room. “I dinnae mean to take so long, miss. Wasnae Cook’s fault, but he genuinely wishes ye to enjoy it. Even included one of his honey tarts that the wee lass loves.”
“Ye mean Daisy?”
“Aye, the laird’s wee one, Miss Daisy. Spittin’ image of her ma. Such a strong sort of beauty she was.” Nina spoke of her almost dreamily and Amara was immediately torn. She wanted to know so much more about his woman who Rhys had loved, but she was also incredibly hungry.
Sensing the stark silence that fell between them, Nina quickly changed the subject. “Wait ‘til ye hear what the laird did.”
She lowered the tray onto the small table near the hearth and straightened. “Soon as he found out what had happened, he tore into them men like a storm. Shouted somethin’ fierce. Broke a chair clean in half, I heard it. Would’ve done worse if he’d heard what that lad said to ye.”
Amara blinked, lips parted. “Ye were there for all of that?”
“Aye, I was behind the banners.”
“The laird did that… for me?”
“Aye! Said ye were a special guest of the laird’s and that they should be right ‘shamed. And boy were they all. I’ve never heard the men so silent during a meal ‘fore.”
Amara pressed her hand to her mouth, a strange flutter rising in her chest as Nina continued. “He insisted on tastin’ everything on the tray himself. Said if he got sick, Cook’d answer for it.”
She hadn’t expected that or even dared to imagine that he’d care so much, let alone act on it so fiercely. But before she could say more, a sudden banging rattled the door causing both women to startle.
“Lady Amara?” came a male voice, young yet familiar.
Nina opened it carefully, and William poked his head in, his dark hair tousled, and his eyes filled with a heavy guilt. “Ye well, lass?”
Amara stood slowly. “I am.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said at once. “I should’ve been doon there. Should’ve stopped those lads. I willnae let it happen again.”
Amara managed a soft smile. “Thank ye, William. That means more than ye ken.” Her eyes caught a glimpse of his newly bandaged arm, and she let herself grin. “Take care of that arm.”
He grinned with her and nodded as he backed out of the doorway. “Sleep well, me lady.”
When the door closed again, Nina let out a low whistle. “He’s certainly been raked o’er the coals too, I reckon.”
“Och, seems all too much.”
“Nay, wasnae enough, if ye ask me. Ye arenae expected to be made of stone, but ye certainly poised yerself to look it tonight,” Nina said proudly as she gathered a fresh night shift from the chest at the foot of the bed.
“Also, why did ye call him ‘William’? We call him ‘Billy’.”
“Oh! Only, he was always correctin’ Myles and Rhy — the laird on our trip.”
Nina chuckled, “Oh, aye, his maither named him William, but here he’s kent as ‘Billy’.”
“Well, I’ll keep calling him William until he corrects me. Seems only proper, as a stranger in this clan. Nay need to make enemies too soon.”
Nina smiled and shrugged as she helped Amara undress, working carefully through the ties at the back of her gown. The velvet pooled to the floor, replaced by the soft linen shift. Amara moved like a ghost through the motions, her mind already floating back to the food waiting across the room.
When the maid finally bid her goodnight and the door clicked softly shut, Amara practically lunged for the tray.
The first bite of stew was molten and rich. She barely swallowed it before taking another, then another. The oatcakes were golden and buttery, and the honey nearly brought tears to her eyes. The tart, still faintly warm, crumbled perfectly on her tongue.
Her greedy stomach growled again, unsatiated.
She sat cross-legged on the rug by the hearth, eating like she hadn’t in days. Like she’d been starved not just from food but of warmth, of kindness, of being seen until not a single morsel was left on the tray.
He tasted the food himself, she thought as she scooped up the last bite. He broke a chair…
It was foolish to dwell on. Dangerous. But still, she let herself feel it. Leaning her back against the seat of the armchair, she let the warmth of the quiet fire encourage her thoughts. The hope. Just for a little while anyway.
A delightful scent of porridge and peat smoke drifted in before the knock even landed.
Amara groaned loudly, her eyes barely opening against the dull gray morning light. Her limbs felt heavy.
She was still on the ground, bed untouched, basically cuddling up the tray as if to protect it from being taken.
The door creaked open.
“Time to rise, me lady,” Nina called out gently. “The laird wished for ye to come and break our fast together — oh!”
Amara buried her face under her arms, but remained lying on the ground.
“Lady Amara! Are ye well?”
With a muffled moan she replied. “Aye, but I daenae wish to eat again for quite some time, Nina.”
“Sweet burnin’ hells, me lady! I thought ye might have taken ill from the food last night. Gave me right scare!”
“Oh!” Amara winced at how inconsiderate she had been for remaining in such a position. “I am sorry, Nina. I’m feelin’ well, just still very full.”
“Well, ye could easily miss breakin’ fast, but ye would be missin’ yer chance to show those men what it means to hold win without sheddin’ any blood.”
That earned a quiet snort. Nina was ruthless in the most loving way.
Still, Amara forced herself upright and tucked her feet under her night gown. Nina, already bustling around the room, set down a folded shawl beside the armchair and then laid a day dress across the foot of the bed. Amara reached up instinctively, her fingers softly caressing the fibers.
It was a soft, woven tartan. Dark green and navy checked, with thin lines of gold.
“O’Donnell colors,” Nina said matter-of-factly without looking up. “Thought ye might like somethin’ warm for yer shoulders. ‘Tis cold in the hall this early.”
Amara’s breath caught a little in her chest. She wasn’t sure if the knot in her belly was dread or gratitude or something that was much harder to name.
After a pause, she pulled it around her shoulders. The warmth was undeniable.
She dressed quickly, Nina helping with the last ties and smoothing her curls before ushering her toward the door.
The walk to the hall felt longer than the night before. Her slippers were near silent, but her heart thudded every step. The tension in her spine made it hard for her to breathe.
It will be different today.
The hall was quieter than at supper, though still full of voices and movement. Early light streamed through the high windows, casting gold across the tables.
“Well now, daenae ye look bonny this mornin', Lady Amara!”
The voice was unmistakably Myles’s. He stood at the long table with a grin that flirted right up to the edge of impolite.
“That shawl suits ye,” he added, eyes flicking over her. “O’Donnell colors look mighty fine.”
Amara flushed, her fingers tightening slightly on the wool. She felt the heat creep up her neck and instantly her gaze met Rhys’s.
He sat two chairs down, across the table, in a new dark linen tunic. His jaw clenched. He hadn’t touched his porridge.
Amara looked away quickly.
“Myles,” she heard Rhys say, his voice low.
“Aye?” his man answered, still grinning.
“I told ye to follow her, nae flirt with her.”
Myles’s grin faltered only for a split-second before he gave a mock salute with his spoon and turned his attention back to his porridge.