Howeverunfierce it truly was.
Already, some of the agitation had left his face. In its place, his earlier look of indecision returned, making him appear almost boyish, save for his full red-gold beard.
Pulling on that beard again, he eyed her. “So you desire the Raven’s favor, eh? Now you’ve given me something to chew on, my lady.”
The words spoken, he began pacing, stroking his beard all the while.
Silent, he strode to and fro between the stinky littleonion table, his larger oaken worktable, and the great double-arched roasting hearth.
“I’ll do your bidding, lady.” He paused at last, drawing up beside Anice and dropping a hand onto her shoulder. “In great part because I ken Anice would ne’er have told such a whopping falsehood unless she truly believed you have the heart to ride out —”
“Och, she does!” Anice bobbed her head. “You should have seen her when we entered the bedchamber and —”
“Be that as it may, she will ride out under full escort — as she said.” Hugh MacHugh was adamant.
“But . . .” Gelis hedged, ashamed to admit her deceit. “There isn’t an escort waiting for me. Not yet anyway. I’d meant to gather one . . .”
That was true enough.
Though she’d feared they’d say her nae.
The cook looked at her, his blue eyes sharp. “They shall accompany you, never fear.”
Gelis smoothed her hands on her skirts. “They might not be pleased —”
“Leave it to me.” He smiled then and patted his considerable girth. “I’m no man o’ letters with a silvered tongue. Nor a great lord like your sire, commanding men with the flip of a finger. But” — his eyes twinkled — “there isn’t a man in the garrison who wouldn’t do my bidding for a double portion of viands or a plump sack of my honey cakes!”
“Then you’ll help me?” Gelis could scarce believe it. “With everything?”
Hugh MacHugh nodded, his red beard gleaming.
“ O-o-oh! Thank you!” Gelis threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely, uncaring that he smelled of onions and fish brine.
And when she pulled back, she somehow wasn’t surprised to see a bit of dampness misting his eyes before he quickly knuckled it away.
Hugh MacHugh, master cook and curly-bearded giant, was a romantic.
Who would’ve thought it?
A good portent, to be sure.
Willing it so, she whirled, grabbing first Anice, and then young Hector, embracing them as well. But her high spirits plummeted when she turned to leave and nearly tripped over Buckie.
He lay sprawled on the stone-flagged floor, the deep shadow cast by the teetering pile of empty wicker baskets making it almost impossible to see him.
But she saw him now and the sight made her heart wince.
If anything, the dog looked even more dejected than he had in the bailey.
“Awwww, Buckie . . .” She dropped to her knees beside him. “I didn’t know you were there,” she crooned, fondling his ears, stroking a hand down his shaggy back.
His tail swished across the stone floor, but when he twisted round to peer at her, his eyes were still sad.
Defeated.
Gelis frowned. “Now, Buckie. You know he’ll be back.”
The dog blinked.
