Then, with a bit of an effort, he struggled to his feet and stood looking at her.
His tail swished again.
When his gaze slid to the door and he shook himself, his eyes turning hopeful, Gelis knew she had a problem.
Remembering her promise, she rubbed the dog’s bony shoulders.
“A fine meat-bone for you, h’mmm?” She did her best to make the bribe sound tempting. “I am sure Hugh can spare one.”
Hugh MacHugh grunted.
Gelis pretended not to hear.
Instead, she pushed to her feet, prepared to insist. “He can have a stew bone, anything with meat on it. Or perhaps the mutton . . .” She stopped, her gaze snapping to the pile of empty creels.
Hector was perched on one of the upturned baskets, his feet resting on a tight-wound coil of heather rope.
Gelis frowned again.
Something — indefinable and niggling — flickered at the edge of her mind. She lifted a hand, began tapping her forefinger against her chin.
And as she tapped, her gaze lit on Anice. The girl still sat on the little three-legged stool, her selfheal-smeared hands resting on her lap.
Hands damaged repairing the hooping on Castle Dare’s wine barrels.
Gelis’s finger stilled in midtap.
She spun around, searching a shadowy corner across the kitchen. The willow bands Anice had carried up from the wine cellar lay there still, innocent and . . . beckoning.
Stirring memories.
Gelis stared at them, an idea forming.
Her heart began to thump.
As if he sensed her excitement, Buckie barked. His eyes began to brighten and his tail swishes became rapid, full-fledged wags.
Watching him, Gelis had to struggle against raising a balled fist and shoutingCuidich N’ Righ!
She wasn’t as successful in stifling a little bounce of joy.
Or the laughter she couldn’t seem to quell.
It bubbled forth, uncontained.
“ Lady —” Anice stood, reached out a goop-smeared hand. “Are you well?”
Gelis dashed a hand across her cheek. “I am fine, never fear,” she managed, the words garbled by her mirth. “Indeed, I am feeling better by the moment.”
Then, not caring that Hugh MacHugh, Anice, and even Hector were gawping at her as if she’d run mad, she crossed the room to seize one of the willow bands and wave it before her like a prize.
“I will need this, too,” she announced, beaming at the slack-jawed cook. “To go along with a meat-bone and —”
Hugh ran a hand over his head. “You want the willow band? To go with a dog bone?”
“Aye, and” — Gelis nodded, her mouth twitching — “a coil of rope and —” She broke off, knowing she was going about this the wrong way.
So she set down the length of willow and smiled.
