“Are ye not hungry then?” Alec frowned down at her full bowl. She’d just said she loved chicken and dumplings. He wanted to be certain to give her plenty. By the gods, surely she wasn’t like Esme and trying to thin herself down to a bare twig that the wind would snap with the slightest breeze.“Ye’re not dieting to fit into some dress, are ye?”
“Alec Danann MacDara!” Entering the kitchen just in time to hear Alec’s question, Sarinda cuffed her son across the back of the head. “That is not a question a gentleman asks a lady.” Sarinda seated herself opposite Sadie, shot a dirty look at her son, then leaned across the table with an apologetic smile and an extended hand. “Please dinna hold my son’s words against him. He oft forgets to think his words through afore he opens his mouth and spews them out. I’m Sarinda, the silly boy’s mother, and ’tis my pleasure to meet ye.”
Sadie stole a glance at Alec, pressing her lips tightly together, but not before a soft, snorting chuckle escaped. She lightly cleared her throat as she took Sarinda’s hand with a smile. “I’m Sadie, and it’s good to meet you too.”
Embarrassment flushed hot through him. What the hell had he been thinking when he’d proposed their first meal together should be with his family?
“Forgive me.” He dipped his chin at Sadie. “I meant no insult or disrespect.” But dammit to hell, he had good reason to ask.Filling his own bowl, he avoided Sadie’s gaze. “It just seemsthat every damn woman in this century is not happy unless she looks like a starved waif just off the ships after the Highland clearances. I fail to understand why they wish to look like nothing more than skin-covered bones.”
Sadie frowned as she scooped up a spoonful of the steaming creaminess, pursed her lips, and blew on it. She stared at the fluffy dumpling in her spoon, then shifted her attention to Alec, bitterness reflecting in the depths of her dark eyes. “It’s the curse of society’s idea of thebeautifulwoman. Everywhere you look—magazines, television, movies, internet—females are blasted with unrealistic images that are labeled as perfection and we’re bullied and shamed if we don’t mimic—or at least attempt to look like—all that photoshopped bullshit.”
She popped the dumpling in her mouth and licked her spoon clean with a shrug of one shoulder. “I’ve never fit that bill and I gave up trying a long time ago.” She patted her curvy hip. “I like to eat. I know I’m a big girl and extra curvy, but I’m healthy, and I will be damned if I make myself miserable by living on celery, carrot sticks, and distilled water.”
“Well stated, my dear!” Sarinda raised her glass with a pleased nod.
“Ye are a lovely woman and there’s not a thing about ye that should be changed.” Alec reached across the table and rested his fingertips lightly on the back of Sadie’s hand. The soft silkiness of her skin didn’t escape him. He spread his hand across hers, glorying in the inviting warmth of her as he finished the awkward apology. “Forgive me if my words offended or made ye feel ill at ease. Please ken that I meant ye no harm or disrespect.”
His heart fell as Sadie slid her hand out from under his. Dammit.That did not go well at all. But then Sadie placed her hand atop his and squeezed. “You didn’t offend me. You’ve been nothing but kind.”
Alec flipped his hand before she could move, laced his fingers with hers, and returned the squeeze.
Miss Lydia placed a platter of sliced barbecued brisket, still steaming and smothered in what smelled to be her homemade spicy sauce, on the far side of the soup tureen. She plopped a basket of sliced hard rolls down beside the brisket, then stepped back and examined the spread. “That should hold y’all ’til suppertime.” She pursed her lips and turned her attention to Alec, the focus of her glare targeting his hand that still held tight to Sadie’s. “Are you gonna let loose of her hand so she can eat while the food’s hot or are you just gonna sit there like a bump on a log and make moon eyes at her?”
“I advise ye to leave off, Mistress Lydia.” Hell’s demons and dragon scat! Why in blazes was the old woman bent on shaming him worse than usual today? Alec reluctantly released Sadie’s hand after one last squeeze. “My apologies. Again.”
Sadie quietly chuckled as she returned her attention to the still steaming bowl of dumplings. Between spoonfuls, her gaze flitted about the table. “Are your brothers and father not joining us? Ramsay . . . or maybe it was Ross—sorry, I’m terrible with names. Anyway, one of your brothers brought me as far as the staircase but then hurried off in the other direction.”
“Emrys isna feelin’ well. He’s retired to his quarters for the remainder of the day,” Dwyn said as he reached for a roll, slid a slice of brisket into the bun, then placed it on the plate in front of him with an elaborate flourish of his long, thin fingers. He added sliced tomatoes, bread-and-butter pickles, and spicy slaw to his plate, then rubbed his hands together with the excited look of an artist about to build a masterpiece. “The lads decided to eat in town. They thought it might be best if ye got to know the MacDara clan in small doses.”
Alec heartily agreed with that line of thinking. ’Twas difficult enough to get to know Sadie with Mistress Lydia andMáthairpecking at him like a pair of starving hens. If his brothers were here, they’d not offer him any easier time of it.
“I’m sorry to hear Mr. MacDara isn’t doing well.” Sadie helped herself to the brisket and rolls, then dipped the sandwich in the creamy broth of the chicken and dumplings and took a bite. She hurried to dab the drippings from her chin with the cloth napkin. Tucking the cloth back into her lap, she shrugged a slightly embarrassed smile at Alec.
As far as he was concerned, the fine lass had nothing to be embarrassed about. It did his heart good to see a woman enjoy her food rather than sit staring at her empty plate like an underfed dog whilst everyone else ate their meal. Perhaps Mistress Sadie could bring about a change in Esme’s way of thinking.
Lightly clearing her throat as she nervously dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, Sadie turned to Dwyn. “I hope Mr. MacDara’s condition isn’t serious. My stay here and the projected filming hasn’t overly upset him, has it?”
“Emrys will be just fine, dear,” Sarinda said. “As he grows older, he’s having more trouble keeping the events of the past back where they belong. My poor Emrys has not had an easy life. When he grows overly upset these days, he tends to relive his battles from long ago.” Sarinda drew in a deep breath and sadly shook her head. “He’s witnessed many a harshness over his lifetime and now canna seem to escape the dreadful memories.”
“PTSD,” Sadie said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Beg pardon?” Alec asked. “What is this PTSD?” He wasn’t familiar with that term, even though he prided himself on having acclimated to this time—well, acclimated to the oddities as much as was possible—over the past fifteen years.
Dwyn had done his best to guide and teach the MacDaras all they needed to know to not only survive in the twenty-first century but thrive. The demigod had accomplished the task well,but Alec still never felt as though he really belonged here. At least not until now.
“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Sadie said. “It sometimes happens to those who’ve experienced more than any human should have to endure. Their past haunts them—reaches into their present and torments them as though everything is happening all over again.”
Every fiber in Alec’s being relaxed. She understood. Even without knowing the extent of the MacDara family history, Sadie understood—and didn’t appear to damn them for it. She was a fine woman and fit in well here.The strangest warm feeling blossomed in the center of his chest—a not unpleasant feeling, but one he had never felt before. The day suddenly brimmed with possibilities.
“Aye. PTSD troublesAthair.But dinna fash, after a night of rest assisted by Mistress Lydia’s tonic, he’ll be right as rain by the morrow.” Alec set his silverware aside. He didn’t want food. He wanted time with Sadie. Private time. The memory of thealmostkiss made him wish he’d worn his kilt rather than the heavily seamed work jeans. He shifted in the chair. Damn the trews.They had a stranglehold on his man parts.
Sadie perked with interest. “What kind of tonic? An old herbal remedy maybe? I read that the shops here at the park are well-stocked with quite a selection of homeopathic herbs and oils. I’ve always been interested in the old remedies.”
Miss Lydia waved away her words. “Nothing as fancy as all that.” She toddled over to the kitchen cabinet and drew down a sealed canning jar over half full of an almost clear liquid. “My brother’s best batch this year.” She smiled and winked. “Nothing cures what ails you better than a healthy snort of white lightning laced with honey and lemon.”
“Moonshine?” Sadie’s eyes rounded and she slowly lowered her spoon to her plate. “Isn’t that illegal?”
With a disinterested shrug, Miss Lydia slid the jar back up onto the top shelf of the cabinet and tightly closed the door. “Only if you sell it—or get caught.”
