“Aren’t ye lonely … now yer Ma has gone? I’d go mad without people around me.”
“I have Duncan.” Hazel flashed her a tight smile as wariness stole over her. Lena seemed like a good-natured lass, yet she was far too nosy. She didn’t want to talk about her mother. “And patients come when they need healing. It’s enough.”
“But don’t ye wantfriends? Someone to talk to?” Her questions came rapid-fire, innocent, and probing. “What about a husband? Don’t ye want one?”
Heat crept up Hazel’s neck. The question hit too close, especially since Craeg was sitting right next to her, listening to their conversation. Her fingers tightened on her spoon.
“Lena.” The rumble of Craeg’s voice intruded then. “Perhaps Hazel would rather not discuss her personal affairs with ye at supper.”
“I’m just curious!” But Lena subsided, chastened.
“Why don’t ye tell us all about life at Laggan instead, lass?” Craeg suggested. “How are ye finding it there?”
As Lena launched into a tale about their new home, Hazel exhaled slowly. She caught Craeg’s eye and found him watching her. Their gazes held for a moment before she looked away, embarrassment prickling her skin.She appreciated him stepping in. Lena’s interrogation had gotten oppressive. She didn’t want to bear her soul to the lass.
Reaching for her cup, she gulped down some ale. The liquid was cool and bitter, grounding her. Around them, the hall hummed with conversation. The senior warriors at their table discussed the next day’s training—some of the older ones gently ribbing their young captain—while serving lads moved between tables with ewers of ale and wine.
A lively, social scene—so different from her solitary cottage. She actually found herself enjoying the noise and companionship. She didn’t have a problem with solitude and liked the quiet life, but maybe spending so much time alone made her think too much.
“The pie is excellent,” she said then.
“Our cook, Maddoc, will be pleased to hear it.” Craeg’s arm brushed hers as he reached for his own cup. The contact made Hazel’s breathing catch.
Cods. She needed to get ahold of herself. That kiss had unleashed something between them—and had unfettered something inside her too. She couldn’t seem to catch her balance in the aftermath. Being this close to him—inhaling his scent, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, and hearing his deep voice—made her far too aware of him.
The traitorous urge to lean into him wreathed up then, to feel his hand on her back again, possessive and sure. To taste his mouth once more and damn the consequences.
But she wouldn’t give in to it. No, she wasn’t a foolish chit bent on self-destruction.
Forcing herself to focus on her meal, she took another spoonful of pie. The pastry was flaky and rich, the meat tender, but it might as well have been sawdust for all she tasted it.
“All is well, Hazel?” Craeg asked, his voice pitched for her ears alone.
“Aye,” she replied, not looking at him. “I’m just tired.”
“Ye should rest after supper. I’ll have someone else sit with my mother tonight.”
“No,” she answered, her gaze snapping to his. “I mean … I’d prefer to tend her myself. I know her treatment.”
Something flickered in his dark eyes. “As ye wish.”
Hazel’s pulse quickened. It was just as well that Lady Liza was over the worst of it. Hazel couldn’t risk lingering at Moy for much longer, not when Maclean favored her with such looks.
He leaned in then. Lena’s attention was elsewhere, as she told Captain Black and his men about Laggan’s horses. Lads were clearing trenchers and bringing out a simple sweet: stewed apples with honey. “I apologize, Hazel,” he said gruffly. “I behaved recklessly last night.”
Her cheeks started to burn. “Webothdid,” she answered, dropping her gaze to the table. She wasn’t being coy, but meeting his eye was too intense. She didn’t want to talk about the kiss. Hadn’t she told him to act as if it had never happened?
“The fault was mine,” he said, his voice roughening further. “I just want to assure ye that—”
“I should check on Lady Liza,” she said abruptly, pushing back from the table.
“Now?” Lena glanced her way. “But ye haven’t eaten yer sweet.”
“She needs her poultice changed.” Hazel stood, gathering her skirts. “Forgive me.”
Craeg rose with her. Their eyes met again, and she marked the way a muscle feathered in his jaw. He knew what she was doing.
She was running—and for good reason.
