Gray settledhis pewter tankard back on the table with a thud. He felt more relaxed—nay more joyful—than he had in a very long time. Tapping his fingers against the cool metal of the cup, he nodded at everyone sitting at the long table. “There are none left who seek my death. The keep has finally been cleansed of those who would cause evil mischief.”
“Are you sure?” Trulie leaned forward, unknowingly propping her bosoms atop her folded arms. The neckline of the dress she wore dipped low enough to give Gray a teasing glimpse of her creamy-white breasts.
He shifted in his seat. All he was certain of was that it was entirely too long before it would be time for them to retire to their chambers. The hall was full of summer travelers stopping by to catch up on the latest goings-on of the MacKenna clan. With a wedding on the horizon, decorum demanded he entertain his guests.
“Gray.” Her tone yanked him back to the present.
“Aye?”
“I asked you if you were sure no one else would want you dead?” She lowered her voice, leaned forward, and revealed even more of her delectable bosom. “You haven’t angered the king, have you?”
He wet his lips. Lore, he could almost taste the sweetness of her skin. Sucking in a hitching breath, he silently promised his cock blessed relief later on. For now, he best pay attention to his future wife’s interrogation. “Alexander has no ill will toward me,” he said. Then he couldn’t resist a smile as he shot a pointed gaze at his lady love’s chest. “Yer dress is verra fine.”
Trulie’s eyes widened. She quickly glanced down at her exposed cleavage, then straightened. Her cheeks flushed an embarrassed pink as she quickly glanced around the table.
“Dinna worry,” he whispered while leaning close. “No one saw yer delightful bounty but me.”
Her cheeks flamed redder. She tugged her neckline upward. “Behave yourself,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “And pay attention. This is serious. Granny and I both think the vision I had of you and Colum might still be active.”
Lore, he loved it when her skin glowed with her emotions. He scrubbed a hand across his face to keep from angering her even more by smiling. He best take care with his teasing or she would send him to his bed alone. “I understand yer worry. But we canna live each day in fear.” He paused, took a long, deep draught of the yeasty ale, and returned his mug to his table. “We will be vigilant, but I refuse to walk through life as a coward.”
He held out his hand. “Come, my love. Walk with me.”
She took his hand, steadying herself as she rose from the bench running the length of the table. Gray rested a hand on the small of her back and steered her toward a table surrounded by a group of what looked like extremely weary men. “Yon sits the Earl of Dunbar—trusted friend to King Alexander himself.”
Trulie froze. She squeezed his hand as she leaned close and whispered. “I don’t think it would be wise for me to talk to him. He might get defensive if he realizes I’m not exactly from this time.”
Gray gently tugged her forward. “I trust Patrick. After all, it was his father who arranged for the king to meet my mother’s cousin, his current wife, Marie de Coucy.”
Trulie still resisted. Worry furrowed her brow as she nervously glanced toward the earl and his men. The color rose higher on her cheeks the closer they came to the table.
“MacKenna.” A burly, barrel-chested man with a coal-black beard rose from his seat.
“Lord Dunbar.” Gray offered the man a polite nod. He was surprised the earl had wandered so far north. “Welcome. What news from yer travels?”
Lord Dunbar waved away the question and made a polite dip of his head at Trulie. “Traveling through Scotland never changes. Successful hunts and occasional sport with foolhardy thieves.” He sidled his way out from behind the table and held out a hand to Trulie. “Now properly introduce me to this dark-haired beauty soon to be yer wife.”
A twinge of jealousy rippled through Gray. Lord Dunbar had been known to dally with another man’s woman just for the thrill of the risk. Gray lightly rested a claiming arm around Trulie’s narrow waist. “Patrick III, seventh Earl of Dunbar, might I present to ye Lady Trulie Sinclair, my betrothed.”
Lord Dunbar’s deep-set eyes twinkled as though already plotting. “Chieftain MacKenna has chosen well. ’Tis my immense pleasure to meet such a lovely woman.” He held Trulie’s hand overly long while smiling into her eyes.
“The pleasure is mine,” Trulie said, then eased her hand free and tucked it behind her back.
Lord Dunbar chuckled and turned back to Gray. “Word came to me of yer troubles. My condolences on the death of yer parents. Alistair MacKenna was a fine chief.”
“I thank ye for yer kindness.” Gray tightened his arm around Trulie as Lord Dunbar’s gaze wandered to her cleavage. “MacKenna Keep has suffered much ill will the past several months, but things should improve now.”
A look of distaste curled Lord Dunbar’s lip as he nodded his agreement. “Aye. I also heard that the Lady Aileas has finally received all she deserves.”
“Well said,” Gray said. Womanizer or not, Lord Dunbar had a way with words.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Trulie interrupted. “I need to get back to Granny.”
Lord Dunbar bowed, then rumbled with an appreciative chuckle as Trulie spun away before he could snag her hand again. “Ye are a damn lucky man,” he said out the side of his mouth.
“Aye,” Gray agreed. A sense of pride swelled within him as he indulged his gaze with the delightful sway of Trulie’s hips as she walked back across the room. “And how fares the Lady Dunbar and your children?” Time to turn Lord Dunbar’s mind back to his own wife.
“All are well.” Lord Dunbar smiled. “And another child will join our family before Yule.”
