Chapter 7 #2
Magnus pulled back and Hannah felt her lungs inhale sharply, breathless from the kiss.
Before he turned to his people, he searched her face, taking in her blush and swollen lips, and smirked.
Hannah glared and before she could think of something awful to say for only his ears, he tugged on her hand and led her back down the aisle.
She did all she could to keep her face neutral, but she doubted she was able to keep all of the vitriol from her expression as the two of them led the procession to the adjoining Grand Hall where tables, musicians, and the start of a feast were splayed out across the grand room.
The tables were decorated with dozens of vases of dahlias, their yellow, white, and pink petals complementing the clan tartan ribbons about their vases rather well.
Banners in solid colors of the clan tartan hung about the room and covered the tables.
For a brute and his captive bride, it was actually rather tastefully decorated.
Once she was sitting next to Magnus at the head table, Hannah didn’t hesitate to reach for her wine.
She drank down half of the goblet before setting it back down, unsure if she was trying to steel her nerves after that kiss or numb herself before being subjected to this joke of a celebration.
The musicians struck up a song as the servants filed in with the rest of the items for the feast. A couple of servants approached the head table solely to serve Hannah and Magnus’s plates directly, instead of the large open platters that the rest of the room was helping themselves to.
Hannah stared down the servant before her as she sipped her wine, watching as the woman slid the plate across the wooden tabletop while her gaze never faltered from the scar on Hannah’s cheek.
It was pathetic to her that people were so scared of a little piece of imperfect skin.
It wasn’t as though they were suffering the pain she had when she had gotten it.
But she held her tongue, even though it had crossed her mind to make an example out of the woman since she was the new Lady of the Keep.
But as she finished her wine and reached to fill it herself instead of subjecting another servant to being so close to her, she realized that it wasn’t the servants she was angry with.
She was used to the similar superstitious mindset that scars were bad luck, as it was the same in England.
And she had no real desire to abuse her position as the Lady of the Keep.
She was angry at the situation and at Magnus.
But she wasn’t about to stoop to being someone who took it out on the staff.
By the time she reached that conclusion, she had managed to pick at and consume half of her meal and had finished a third goblet of wine.
As she sighed and poured herself yet another, someone bumped into the back of her chair.
“Apologies, M’Lady,” a soft voice murmured.
One that sounded familiar, but not familiar enough for her to place.
When she turned to look at them, she only saw figures in servants’ clothes moving about, the maid Tilly collecting empty dishes from the far side of the table.
Nothing out of the ordinary. And when she went to turn back around, a small piece of paper caught her eye.
It was laying in her lap, folded intentionally into a tiny little square—letting her know that it wasn’t just a scrap piece of paper, but a note.
Why would anyone be slipping her a note?
Hannah really couldn’t piece together a single good reason for it in the midst of her wine stupor.
But not having a single inkling as to what it could be only made her curiosity grow even more.
Hesitantly, her eyes flickered to Magnus next to her, who was still looking out over his people as he sipped his second drink. Slowly, she unfolded it and held it underneath the table to conceal it.
You’re still mine.
Just four words and nothing more.
Hannah’s blood ran cold, her heartbeat whooshing in her ears in an irregular rhythm.
It wasn’t signed and there was nothing else specific about the parchment to give away who had sent it, but there didn’t need to be.
The only one who had ever been brazen enough to call her his was Alan Black.
After she managed to shake off her shock, Hannah balled the note up tight into a little ball before tossing it onto her plate and mixing it into the unfinished food as though ruining the note and getting it scraped into the slops could wash it from her mind.
Should she have shown Magnus?
What if it made him think that she was a collaborator with Alan?
Why had she destroyed the note without thinking about it?
Her pulse quickened and her stomach threatened to leap into her throat as she tried to sort through all of the possible ramifications for this and what to do next.
Quickly, she dug out the note and wiped the outside on her cloth napkin before finally tucking it into a pocket on her dress.
Her chest moved quickly with sharp breaths, and yet barely enough air seemed to reach her lungs.
And then, there was a hand on her shoulder. Peering up, she saw Magnus towering over her, a gentle look in his eyes. One that made her believe maybe he had witnessed her demeanor change and was there to offer an olive branch.