Margaret smiled and gave Janet a wink as she stood from the table. “I’m afraid it is private.”
Robert shook his head, but Janet didn’t miss the small smile as he turned back to his conversation with Ewen.
Margaret started clearing the platters from their meal. When Janet rose to help, she ordered her back to her seat. “You are a guest,” she said, and then in a whisper, “Besides, you must tell me if they say anything interesting.”
Janet smiled conspiratorially. “I shall do my best. But ‘interesting’ is probably more than we can hope for.”
Margaret chuckled. “You’re probably right. How about this: try not to fall asleep.”
“I make no promises,” Janet said. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so comfortable. You have a lovely home, Margaret.”
She could see how much the comment pleased the other woman. “I think you saw the apple tart.”
Janet laughed. “I may have, at that.”
Margaret moved to the other side of the long room, while Janet relaxed. She eyed the two men at the end of the table surreptitiously. She must not be as adept at overhearing as Margaret, because she could make out very little of what was being said. Although she was used to Ewen’s sparse conversation, even for him, he seemed unusually subdued tonight.
Something was wrong.
Was he more worried than he’d let on that his friends had not arrived? He’d seemed confident that they would arrive soon. Or was something else bothering him?
She frowned as he refilled his goblet again. He seemed to be drinking more than usual tonight. His face looked a little flushed.
She waited for a break in the men’s conversation. “Is your leg feeling all right, Ewen?”
He looked over at her. “It feels fine. Why do you ask?”
She blushed, not wanting to admit that she’d been watching his intake of ale. “You had not mentioned it for a while, and I was just wondering how it was healing.”
“It’s fine.”
“You are injured?” Margaret asked, approaching the table.
“Some time ago,” he answered.
“But it has not healed properly,” Janet interjected.
Ewen shot her a glare. She smiled.
Margaret frowned. “I have some ointment—”
“Really,” Ewen said. “It’s fine.”
“Leave the lad alone, Margaret,” Robert said. “He’s old enough to decide for himself whether he needs help.”
Margaret and Janet looked at each other with a roll of the eyes. There was no age old enough for men to admit they needed help.
“I am rather tired, though,” Ewen said, pushing back from the table. “I think I shall retire.”
“Already?” Janet said, not hiding her disappointment. “But what about the tart?”
She wasn’t ready for the night to end—or for the journey to end, for that matter. She knew very well that Ewen could be called away for another mission as soon as they returned, and she would have to leave almost immediately as well, to make it back to Roxburgh in time for St. Drostan’s Day.
The complications with the English they’d faced on their journey were certainly going to make persuading Robert more difficult, but given the importance of her contact’s information, and the fact that Ewen and the other phantoms wouldn’t be with her to draw the attention of the English, she was confident he would see the necessity.
And then there was the other matter. Thethemmatter.
Ewen looked at Margaret. “I will look forward to a slice in the morning.” His gaze finally fell on her. “You should get some rest as well. We will leave early and will have a long day ahead of us.”
