“Aye,” Kenny said with a nod. “That’s all anyone can ask.”
The weight on Baird’s shoulders wasn’t any lighter, but at least he knew that he wasn’t alone in his quest for the truth.
CHAPTER 13
Davina had managed to avoid Baird for nearly three days.
Not obviously, for she was too well raised for that, but with careful timing, shortened conversation, and sudden interest in anything that sent her walking in the opposite direction of wherever he happened to be. To be quite honest, it was not a difficult task. He’d thrown himself into council matters and patrols, emerging from his office each night looking more worn and hollower than the last.
Still, each time she glimpsed him across a corridor or passing through the hall, her breath tightened. She could not forget the warmth of his hands at her neck and the shocking nearness of his body pressed by accident to hers.
And she certainly couldn’t forget that moment when she realized she touched him…
Davina nearly tripped on the stair at the thought.
So, it was easier to simply avoid him… until this evening. She’d passed through the great hall late, long after dinner should have ended, only to find Baird’s seat empty and untouched again. By the time she reached the kitchens, she had already decided what to do.
The cook looked up from her simmering pot, with cheeks flushed from the fire. “Me lady? Ye’re out late.”
Davina stepped closer, hesitating before she dared to ask. “Has the laird eaten anything this evening?”
The cook snorted, wiping her hands. “Nae a bite that I’ve seen. He’s wearing himself tae threads, that man. Working himself hollow.”
Davina hesitated again. Then, with more resolve than she felt, she continued. “Could ye prepare something fer him? Something he likes? I’d like tae take it up tae him.”
The cook’s eyes lit at once. “Och, aye, I can dae that. And I’ll tell ye what he’ll eat without arguing: roasted venison sliced thin, a bit of barley bread, and cheese from the larder shelf. And broth, he always takes broth when he’s too stubborn tae admit he’s tired.”
A small smile tugged at Davina’s lips. “That sounds perfect.”
The cook’s hands moved quickly, assembling the tray as though the small act of care were a celebration. She nestled the food neatly, then added a napkin and a small clay cup filled to the brim.
When she finished, she stepped back proudly. “There, me lady. This will be more than enough tae put strength back in him. And he’ll eat it fer yer sake, if naething else. He always did mind his manners.”
Davina felt warmth creep into her cheeks. “Thank ye.”
She balanced the tray carefully in her hands. It felt heavier than it should, perhaps because of its meaning. Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin as she stepped into the dim corridor leading to Baird’s study. The castle seemed almost asleep around her. Her footsteps softened instinctively as she walked, as though the silence demanded gentleness.
When she reached his study door, she stopped. Her breath trembled.
She looked down at the tray, at the venison, the warm bread and the steaming broth. She realized she was holding it as if it were precious, as if bringing him this meal meant more than simple courtesy.
Perhaps it did.
Davina drew a slow breath, willing her hands to steady.
It was only kindness, she told herself.
Yet her heart thudded painfully as she lifted her hand to knock.
“Come in,” she heard his voice from inside.
She swallowed, lifted the latch carefully, and stepped into the room with the tray held steady in both hands. Baird sat behind his desk, a stack of parchment before him and a lantern casting tired shadows beneath his eyes. He looked up and stilled.
“Davina?” His brows drew together. “What are ye?—?”
She stepped forward. “I… noticed ye didnae have dinner.”
He stared at her, at the tray, then back at her face.
