unwilling.”
“So I see.” Alex regarded Mairi with grim amusement, and asked in Gaelic if his orders had been followed regardingthe lady’s chamber. When Main shook her head, he frowned and said, “You may go.”
Main jerked her head in assent, then stomped away, leaving Catherine staring after her. “If I offended her,” she muttered, “please tell me how so that I can repeat the offense the next time she wakes me before first light.”
Alex grinned. “Mairi believes one should not stay abed once the sun has risen.”
“A remarkable policy, but detestable when one has not slept soundly.”
“We go down to the hall to sup, milady, if you would care to join us.” He didn’t know why he offered, save that she looked so lost at the moment, so vulnerable with her load of books and ill-fitting garments. Her hair was tucked into small coils above her ears, but loose tendrils had escaped to dangle against her cheek and the nape of her neck.
Obvious surprise lit her eyes, but she nodded her acceptance. “I grow weary of my chamber, and would welcome company for my evening meal.”
Aware of Robbie’s sidelong glance, Alex ignored him as he took the books from her and gave them to a servant along with instructions in Gaelic. Then he held out his arm, and after only the briefest of hesitations, she tucked her slender finggers into the crook of his elbow, the pressure light but firm as she accompanied him.
The hall was filled with soldiers and servants, loud and raucous as they entered. As they crossed the rushes to the high table, Catherine’s clasp on his arm tightened as if for protection. The hostile glances had not gone unnoticed, but Alex steered her to the table without acknowledging them. If there were any who had objection to her presence, they could voice complaint to him. None, of course, would do so openly.
Still, constraint was apparent as they took their seats, and several glanced away uneasily when he bent a cold stare in their direction. He would not be rebuked in his own hall, by God, no matter the sentiment against his English hostage.
Catherine leaned close to murmur, “Mayhap your kind invitation is an ill-favored idea, sir. There are those here who seem to take my presence amiss.”
“Do you fear them?”
Her delicate brows dipped over her nose. “No, of course I do not.”
“Then pay them no heed. These people sup in my hall at my sufferance, and if they are displeased by my choice of company, they are at liberty to seek sustenance at another lodging.”
He had deliberately made his words loud enough to be heard at the other tables, and after a moment, several men rose and quit the hall. Others exchanged glances, then resumed eating, and very shortly it was as if there had been no interruption. Alex beckoned a page forward with a platter of meats, and another quickly followed with a large tray of breads such as manchet and wastel, baked with fine white flour. Cheese and dried fruits were brought to the table, pitchers of ale and wine were refilled, and jellies and comfits were added to the repast.
Alex watched Lady Catherine, noting her hesitation. He leaned close. “Do you fear illness if you sample our fare? ’Tis not what you are accustomed to, no doubt, but ’tis filling.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “As ’tis much better than the fare I am usually served here, I have no complaint. Neither do I have a dining knife or spoon.”
“Ah. An oversight.” He held out his eating dagger, a small implement with a jeweled hilt, fit for the table and little else. “You may use
sgian dhu
if you like.”
She stared at him. “Skawn—”
“Sgian dhu—skean du
, if you will. My dirk, or dagger. It once belonged to a lady, and should easily fit your small hand.”
Accepting it, she looked at him curiously. “You do not seem the land of man prone to using feminine cutlery.”
He shrugged. “You may find this hard to believe, but ’tis for sentiment’s sake that I use
“So I see.” Alex regarded Mairi with grim amusement, and asked in Gaelic if his orders had been followed regardingthe lady’s chamber. When Main shook her head, he frowned and said, “You may go.”
Main jerked her head in assent, then stomped away, leaving Catherine staring after her. “If I offended her,” she muttered, “please tell me how so that I can repeat the offense the next time she wakes me before first light.”
Alex grinned. “Mairi believes one should not stay abed once the sun has risen.”
“A remarkable policy, but detestable when one has not slept soundly.”
“We go down to the hall to sup, milady, if you would care to join us.” He didn’t know why he offered, save that she looked so lost at the moment, so vulnerable with her load of books and ill-fitting garments. Her hair was tucked into small coils above her ears, but loose tendrils had escaped to dangle against her cheek and the nape of her neck.
Obvious surprise lit her eyes, but she nodded her acceptance. “I grow weary of my chamber, and would welcome company for my evening meal.”
Aware of Robbie’s sidelong glance, Alex ignored him as he took the books from her and gave them to a servant along with instructions in Gaelic. Then he held out his arm, and after only the briefest of hesitations, she tucked her slender finggers into the crook of his elbow, the pressure light but firm as she accompanied him.
The hall was filled with soldiers and servants, loud and raucous as they entered. As they crossed the rushes to the high table, Catherine’s clasp on his arm tightened as if for protection. The hostile glances had not gone unnoticed, but Alex steered her to the table without acknowledging them. If there were any who had objection to her presence, they could voice complaint to him. None, of course, would do so openly.
Still, constraint was apparent as they took their seats, and several glanced away uneasily when he bent a cold stare in their direction. He would not be rebuked in his own hall, by God, no matter the sentiment against his English hostage.
Catherine leaned close to murmur, “Mayhap your kind invitation is an ill-favored idea, sir. There are those here who seem to take my presence amiss.”
“Do you fear them?”
Her delicate brows dipped over her nose. “No, of course I do not.”
“Then pay them no heed. These people sup in my hall at my sufferance, and if they are displeased by my choice of company, they are at liberty to seek sustenance at another lodging.”
He had deliberately made his words loud enough to be heard at the other tables, and after a moment, several men rose and quit the hall. Others exchanged glances, then resumed eating, and very shortly it was as if there had been no interruption. Alex beckoned a page forward with a platter of meats, and another quickly followed with a large tray of breads such as manchet and wastel, baked with fine white flour. Cheese and dried fruits were brought to the table, pitchers of ale and wine were refilled, and jellies and comfits were added to the repast.
Alex watched Lady Catherine, noting her hesitation. He leaned close. “Do you fear illness if you sample our fare? ’Tis not what you are accustomed to, no doubt, but ’tis filling.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “As ’tis much better than the fare I am usually served here, I have no complaint. Neither do I have a dining knife or spoon.”
“Ah. An oversight.” He held out his eating dagger, a small implement with a jeweled hilt, fit for the table and little else. “You may use
sgian dhu
if you like.”
She stared at him. “Skawn—”
“Sgian dhu—skean du
, if you will. My dirk, or dagger. It once belonged to a lady, and should easily fit your small hand.”
Accepting it, she looked at him curiously. “You do not seem the land of man prone to using feminine cutlery.”
He shrugged. “You may find this hard to believe, but ’tis for sentiment’s sake that I use
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