Chapter 11 #2
Amara’s pulse was whirling as she took a seat next to William, who nodded his head in greeting with a mouthful of food he was working on. Something about Rhys’s reprimand made her blood boil, like she was worth defending… or like she had been claimed. When she most certainly had not.
Daisy sat beside her father, swinging her feet lightly beneath the bench. She regarded Amara with a cautious, but friendly, sidelong look.
“Morning,” Amara offered gently.
The girl gave a small smile. “Mornin’, miss.”
A serving maid placed a bowl of porridge in front of her, followed by oatcakes, jam, and a small pot of tea.
“Ye enjoy the oatcakes here, then?” she commented as she placed one on the plate in front of her.
William nodded. “Cook’s famous for ‘em.”
“He used to nae be,” Myles jumped in, gnawing on his own oatcake. “Werenae those the days, Billy?”
“William. Aye, hard as pucks some of em,” He said, his mouth now only half-full of food. “Gorge on ‘em now, ‘fore he changes the recipe again and they’re back to bein’ in-famous.”
The table chuckled along as she took the first bite.
It warmed her from the inside and her thoughts scattered briefly under the comfort of honey and butter, the steam from the tea curling under her nose. Amara’s stomach growled angrily at once, traitorous and loud enough for William to hear right as he was stuffing three cakes in his jacket.
“Goodness me, Eat up, ye’ll feel much better,” he laughed and placed one from his jacket onto her plate as he stood and joined Rhys at the end of the table. Myles has snuck around the back of the table apparently as well because he was there as well.
Their low tones hovered around the clinking of wares on the plates as the two men teased each other while waiting for their laird.
Their jests ventured between dice and horses to some lady who threatened to throw a chamber pot at one of them…
or had she actually thrown it? Amara’s interest was piqued only briefly until her attention wavered.
Her eyes drifted down from the men behind Rhys and landed on Daisy, who leaned toward her father, whispering something. He bent to hear her, his entire body softening. The lines of his shoulders eased, and he nodded with full attention.
He wasn’t always sharp edges and commands. He listened to his daughter like she was the only one in the world worth hearing. It was an incredibly gentle.
Part of her wanted to look again, but she quickly turned her eyes back to her bowl. The shawl around her shoulders still held the scent of peat smoke and heather. Careful not to draw too much attention to herself, she pulled it closer and breathed it in.
The porridge was nearly gone when Amara realized she hadn’t spoken in several minutes, and the hall had gone nearly quite, save for William and Myles still lowly insulting each other.
“Lady Amara?” Daisy piped up suddenly, her voice cutting through the table’s low rumble.
Amara blinked, “Aye?”
The young girl leaned forward with an inquisitive frown. “Are ye feeling better, then?”
The air shifted at once.
William froze mid-bite. Myles paused with his cup halfway to his lips. Even Rhys, who had just reached for the honey, stopped moving.
Amara’s cheeks went hot. She glanced at Rhys, but he remained staring into his cup as if hoping to disappear into it.
“I…” she cleared her threat. “Aye, thank ye, Miss Daisy. I am well, especially after some sleep.”
The girl smiled, pleased with herself, and took another nonchalant bite of her jam-slathered oatcake.
But the girl was far from finishing her inquisition.
“Are ye goin’ to marry me da?”
Amara choked on her tea.
Myles let out a startled laugh. “Aye, what’re yer intentions with our laird, Lady Amara?” he teased. “Best we all ken ‘fore the banns get read out.”
William sputtered, covering his grin behind a hand.
Amara’s mouth opened, then shut. Her skin burned and in this moment she didn’t know what was worse, the clansmen last night or this intimate-type of embarrassment.
She turned fully toward Daisy, shoulders cocked back and ready to respond with whatever the right answer might have been. Amara had hoped it would come to her as she started to speak, but before she could, Rhys’s voice came down hard between them.
“She’s a guest.”
His words were flat. Cold. As final as a slammed door.
Even Daisy blinked, startled by his tone, and her entire little body went rigid.
Amara just stared at him. Their eyes locked. Both on fire.
Something insider her sank, like a stone into water, but she still couldn’t look away from him.
Dinnae have to be such a —
William cleared his throat gently, as if he’d seen the retort forming in her posture.
Myles looked suddenly uncomfortable and busied himself with stirring what little contents were in his cup.
The silence stretched long and tight before even Daisy moved, and even then she just pushed the berries around her plate.
“Da?” Daisy asked, much softer.
Rhys turned his head slowly, keeping his eyes locked onto Amara’s until the very last moment possible. A challenge for her to interrupt or argue, perhaps, or a warning.
“Aye, love?” He said, his voice warm and tender.
“Will ye come watch me with the pony today? Ye said ye could today.”
His expression changed instantly, and the storm clouds cleared from the hall. “Of course I will, ye have worked hard and I’d be honored.”
Daisy beamed, and the moment should have been sweet to watch, but it stung. Amara shifted back in her seat and let her eyes wander around the hall.
The stonework here was older than the other parts of the keep. She could see the layers of time in the tapestries. A pair of antlers hung proudly above the hearth, polished to a dull gleam but polished, nonetheless. There was a small harp resting, clearly unused, in the corner.
Then her gaze landed back on Rhys and Daisy. He hadn’t glanced back in her direction since he turned away.
It hadn’t been the dismissal of being called “just a guest”. It was how easily and quickly he had said it. How quickly he’d cut her loose in front of everyone. How clearly he’d drawn the boundary she hadn’t realized they had even come close to.
Amara’s appetite had fully vanished, and she finally set her utensils down before folding the napkin on her lap and setting it next to her plate.
Everyone began to rise. William and Myles were halfway down the hall by the time Amara had stood. Daisy hopped down from the bench and grabbed her father’s hand.
He smiled down at her, then gave a short nod ahead to his mean before leading her to the door as well.
Amara followed behind them all, and pulled her shawl tightly around her.
“Da?” she heard Daisy ask, tugging his hand as they stepped into the corridor.
“Aye?”
“What’s happened to Uncle Finn?”
Amara slowed at the name.
Daisy’s voice was light and unworried. “He was helpin’ me with the ponies, but he’s nae been back for ages.”
Rhys came to a full stop.
The hall went still for the second time that morning.
Then, almost too softly, he answered, “He’ll be back with us soon, love.”
Daisy tilted her head. “When, Da?”
Rhys’s jaw tightened and his gaze flicked behind them to Amara, like daggers. “Nay matter the cost,” he said, his voice low and sure but almost like a threat. “He will be back with us very soon. I promise.”
It chilled the air.
His dark eyes had slipped even further into darkness. Thunder cracking beneath the surface.
Amara tugged the shawl around her tighter to hide her pebbling skin.
Whatever the storm he carried inside of him… it was nowhere near passing…