Growing more nervous as the silence dragged on, she said, “I’m surprised they let you roam about so freely.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry half-smile. “Noticed my watchdogs, did you? Aye, well, they’ve relaxed a little. Our marriage helped. Percy is almost convinced of my loyalty.”
“Sir Adam informed me of the king’s embellishment to our tale. They must not know you very well if they think you would change allegiance for the love of a woman.”
He lifted a brow. “And you do?”
Their eyes met, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. He was right. She didn’t know him; she was making assumptions. It made it easier to push him away.
“Actually, I think it has more to do with David’s wardship. Why would I do anything to jeopardize a chance at that? My interests, you see, are in England.”
She felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. “And is that what matters to you?”
“We all do what we have to do, Mary. Isn’t that what keeps you in England? Your and David’s interests are here. Or is it Bruce that you are opposed to?”
“Of course not,” she said automatically. Then, realizing how treasonous her words could have sounded, she added, “Robert was my brother-in-law twice over—he was married to my sister and my brother was married to his sister. I hold a great deal of affection for him.”
He considered her for a moment, but then changed the subject. “It’s for the baby, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing to the cap that had fallen to her lap when he entered.
Belatedly, she recalled the glasses still perched on her nose and slid them off as unself-consciously as she could manage. She nodded.
“May I see it?”
She handed it to him, waiting with a surprisingly anxious heartbeat as he scrutinized it with a thoroughness that would have made Master Bureford proud. “It’s magnificent,” he announced finally.
Mary told herself that she shouldn’t be so pleased. But she couldn’t stop the burst of pleasure and pride that swelled inside her.
“Thank you,” she managed, embarrassed by her own reaction.
“Did you really sell these?”
She stiffened, anticipating his disapproval. “Aye.” And she would continue to do so. But uncertain how he would react to that, she decided to keep that to herself for now.
“I’m impressed. It couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Empathy? That was the last thing she expected from him—and the last thing she wanted. Being so attracted she couldn’t think straight was bad enough. She didn’t want to like him, too. “It wasn’t. But that was a long time ago, and a time I would rather not remember.”
If he noticed the wall she’d erected around the subject of her past, he didn’t show it. He handed the cap back to her. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind stitching something for me one day?”
Mary flinched. It felt as if she’d been kicked in the chest. He couldn’t have surprised her more than if he’d actually done so. Pained memories came back to her of the countless hours she’d spent on the special surcote she’d made for Atholl, only to have him toss it away with barely a glance when she’d given it to him. She’d poured all her love into that garment, and he’d rejected it as if it had been nothing. To him, it had been.
Now Kenneth asked her to make him something? For the first time, she noticed not the similarities, but the differences between the two men. Though part of her wished she hadn’t.
“Perhaps,” she managed evasively.
He studied her over the rim of his cup, as if he’d sensed somehow that he’d struck a nerve and was trying to determine the source.
She went back to work so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, but kept pricking herself with the needle under the weight of his scrutiny.
As the moment of silence stretched, her heartbeat seemed to quicken. Her hands dampened. Her throat grew dry. The bundle of nerves knotting in her stomach returned, as did the butterflies fluttering in her chest.
He, too, appeared increasingly edgy. He stood to replenish his cup, muttering something about whisky. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him toss back the cup and take a long drink of wine before slamming it down on the table.
“Are you going to do that all night?” he snapped.
She put down her embroidery slowly, realization dawning.My God, he’s nervous!It seemed inconceivable that this arrogant, cocky warrior with his own retinue of female admirers could be nervous. It was charming—and rather sweet. Two words she’d never thought to use to describe him.
“I can put it aside now, if you’d like.”
