“Pshaw!” Valdar leaped to his feet, swaying crazily before sinking into his chair again.
“Think you I dinna have eyes that can see?” He wagged his head at Ronan. “I know a MacKenzie when I see one!” he jerked, blinking a time or two. “Tall the fellow was and built like a prize stirk, his hair as black as your own and that of the Black Stag hisself.”
“Forget the Black Stag!”
Ronan crossed the room in three great strides. Leaning down, he braced both hands on his grandfather’s chair arms and looked him hard in the eye.
Something ailed him, and the thought of the possible causes chilled Ronan’s blood.
“Did this courier give you aught to drink?”
Valdar bristled.
He met Ronan’s stare, belligerence all over him.
“Since when does a visitor bring his own ale to a Highland table?” he demanded, his bearded chin jutting. “Our guest received Dare’s finest meats, libation, and entertainment — as is fitting!”
Ronan leaned closer. “Did you leave the table at any time?”
“And didyoufall into the cesspit?” Valdar wrinkled his nose, waved a hand between them. “You smell worse than a barrel o’ rotten fish.”
Ronan straightened. “ ’Tis Auld Meg’s goldenrod unguent.”
“That foul goo?” The old man’s brows drew together. “I wouldn’t allow that clapper-tongued she-goat to smear her bog slime on my big toe!”
“She didn’t.” Ronan flicked at his plaid, not about to admit that his toes were packed in the odious-reeking ointment.
“Lady Gelis did the honors.” He saw no reason to deny it. “She insisted when Auld Meg decided I might have need of her unguent. My lady —”
“Your lady!” Valdar’s eyes lit with mirth.
He shot to his feet again, this time standing tall.
“Ho, laddie! And she dipped her fingers in that stinking rot for you?” He stared at Ronan, his mouth twitching. “Did I no’ tell you she was a fine piece o’ womanhood? I vow she has greater stones than some men!”
Ronan’s face heated.
He knew exactly what she had between her shapely thighs, andstoneshad naught to do with it.
Praise the saints!
And damn him for thinking ofthatpart of her now. Already, he could feel a stir and a twitch below. Nae, it was more a sharp pulling, hot and insistent.
He frowned.
If only he hadn’t called her his lady.
The thought alone roused him, and in ways that had little to do with the heated pulsing at his loins.
It had to do with his heart, which made it all the more frightening.
“She meant well,” he began, hoping to correct the slip before his grandfather guessed the truth. “Auld Meg convinced her I’d bruised my ribs earlier, and mayhap I did. The like happens. Lady Gelis only —”
“You’re under her spell, you are!” Valdar rocked back on his heels, all but choking on his laughter. “Ne’er did I think you’d fall so quickly,” he roared, slapping his thigh. “You, who’d vowed to monk yourself.”
Clearly no longer troubled by whatever had plagued him, he grabbed Ronan’s sleeve and pulled him to a table near his bed. Set with a round of plump green cheese, honey bannocks, oatcakes and butter, it also held a small pewter flagon.
Still chuckling, he snatched up the flagon and sloshed a generous measure ofuisge beathainto a cup.
