“If she does, you may have it.” Ronan gave approval, his face hard-set though his words were kind.
Gelis winked at him. “I have gifts for you, too.” She leaned close, making sure her breasts brushed his sleeve. “If you would but have them!”
In answer, his jaw tightened.
He said nothing.
A few seats away, Valdar slapped the table. “A spirited gel, what did I say?”
Next to him, Duncan hrumphed. “I vow this hall will soon be ringing with her liveliness.” Leaning around his host, he aimed a pointed glance at her. “Mind your outbursts, lass, or you might find yourself back home before a year and a day rolls around.”
“Dare is my home now.” Gelis returned his stare, her chin lifted. “I shall not be returning to Eilean Creag save to visit.”
This time it was the Raven who hrumped.
His grandfather hooted.
Encouraged by the old man’s mirth, Gelis edged closer to Ronan, near enough so that he couldn’t help but catch her precious attar of roses scent. Triumph hers, she watched his nose quiver. Sadly, the rest of him remained as rigid as if he were made of granite.
She forced a smile, undaunted.
Seduction was her game.
And she meant to win.
“Dare was as good as your home — once!” Valdar’s booming voice sounded again as he reached to clink his wine cup against Duncan’s. “You would be wise to remember those days and have done with your fomenting. It serves naught. The deed is done, by all the Powers!”
“ ’Tis still a hard matter.” Duncan swung around to cast a dark look at Sir Marmaduke. “Even if some have forgotten their own ill ease none so long ago.”
“There are times we must be satisfied with what the fates give us.” Sir Marmaduke lifted the wine flagon and refilled his cup. “In especial, once a deed is done.”
The Black Stag’s brows snapped together.
Sir Marmaduke merely sipped his wine.
“He but speaks the truth, Father.” Gelis wriggled the fingers of her left hand, proud of her new ring’s sparkle. “ ’Tis too late for objections.”
Valdar slapped the table again. “So I said, just!”
Tight-lipped, Duncan held his peace.
Glad for it, Gelis turned back to Hector. The lad still hovered at her elbow, so she flipped aside her golden waist-chain and its bauble, revealing a delicatesgian dubhat her hip. It was a child’s dagger, and its beautifully worked horn handle gleamed in the torchlight.
“This is a special dirk,” she said, handing it to the boy. “My brother Robbie gave it to me when I was about your age. Our father fashioned it for him, and I’ve kept it as a talisman. It will serve you well.”
“O-o-o-h, it shall! I thank you.” Hector curled his fingers around the dirk’s sheath. “Wait until the lads in the kitchens see this.”
“You misremember, lass.” Duncan spoke up as soon as the boy darted away with his prize. “ ’Twas your uncle Kenneth who gave Robbie that wee blade,” he reminded her. “He made it in the good years, before he turned —”
“Now is not the time to speak of that one.” Sir Marmaduke placed a hand on his arm. “Be glad Gelis has an admirer in the lad. His merriment will prove a greater talisman than any child’s miniature dagger.”
The Black Stag shook his arm free. “She shouldn’t have need of a talisman! By all the saints, I shall be glad when —”
“It will gladden you even more, Kintail, to hear that she has no need of such a token.” Ronan set down his eating knife. “No harm shall touch her.”
Gelis put aside her own knife. The way he’d said “no harm shall touch her” made her chest tighten and the tops of her ears burn.
Something told her he meant he wouldn’t touch her.
