He crossed his arms over his chest.“Shall we see about that?”
She mimicked him, folding her arms and lifting her nose.“Ye couldnae.”
Jaw tight, he eyed her for several moments.Did he really wish to manhandle her into eating?
“Ye shall ail further if ye dinnae eat.”
“Why should ye care?Ye dinnae know me remember.Ye dinnae even care for me.Leave me be, Logan.”
“So ye can plot yer escape?I think not.Eat or I shall force ye.”
He gestured to the tray of fish, bread and sliced meat.Anger made his skin hot.How she thought he would believe he loved her once was beyond him.She was the most aggravating woman he had ever met.Not that he had met many—or at least he did notremembermeeting many.The women in the keep were docile, obedient creatures.Some had taken a liking to him and while he occasionally enjoyed their company, he did not find any of them summoned more than indifference.
Unlike this woman.He could not deny her pursed lips and fiery expression held great appeal.
Lorna made a show of clamping her mouth shut and glared at him.He had his doubts that he could physically force the food down her throat but...He smirked to himself.He could humiliate her into eating.
Her eyes widened, big blue pools that struck him in the chest again as he stepped over.He brushed aside any doubt and grabbed her arm.“If ye shallnae eat here, mayhap ye shall do better in company.”
“What?”
She let out a cry of protest as he dragged her to her feet.Grip firm, he tugged her out of the room and onto the balcony.
“Ye cannae do this,” she hissed, trying to pry his fingers from her arm.“Yer hurting me.Logan, let me go.”
“’Tis for yer own good,” he muttered and, undaunted, he dragged her down the stairs and into the busy hall.
Servants and household members alike turned to stare.Lorna’s cries of protest had silenced and even her struggles ceased.Her soft flesh giving way under his fingers sent a mild stab of remorse through him, but he shoved the sensation away.This was for her own good—and his.He did not wish to be known as the man who let this noblewoman die.
Cheeks filled with colour, she sank meekly onto the carved oak chair at the top of the table.He propped himself against the table and motioned to one of the servants to bring some food over.He poured her an ale and pushed it toward her.
Eyes narrow, she wrapped an arm around herself—a feeble attempt to cover her scandalous state—and reached for the goblet.Lorna drained it in several gulps and Logan let a victorious smirk play on his lips.
A young lad brought over a platter of food and an eating knife, which Logan promptly snatched away.He picked up a discarded spoon and handed her that instead.
She eyed the platter as if it were a writhing mass of maggots rather than heavily salted pork and thick, white bread slathered in butter.
“Once ye have eaten, ye may return to yer room.”
“Ye mean for me to sit here—in this state—and eat?”she hissed.“Ye have lost more than yer memory.Ye’ve lost yer honour too.”
He snorted.As far he knew he had none.Did she not realise that he was not a nobleman?He had not been tutored in honour and chivalry.A man like himself had to do what he must to survive.And at the moment, all he needed to do was ensure she lived long enough to face the laird when he returned.
“If ye dinnae like sitting here” —he leaned in and let his gaze travel from the curves of her breasts, down to where the linen pooled in her lap— “I suggest ye eat with haste.”
With a huff, she snatched up the bread and tore a vicious bite from it.It made him grateful she had not decided to turn her teeth upon him when he had snatched her arm.Logan observed her movements and tried not to be too pleased at the return of colour into her cheeks.Mayhap they were still heated from humiliation but he felt certain she had only needed some sustenance and a good sleep to make her well again.
She prodded the pork with her spoon and raised a brow in his direction.“How am I meant to eat this without a knife?”
“Use yer fingers.”
Outrage froze her features and she bunched her hands.He braced himself for a rash movement, but she surprised him by plucking the meat up and tearing it apart with her fingers before nibbling daintily.Amusement tickled his insides and he struggled to remain stony faced.How the lass managed to look elegant while tearing apart meat with her fingers and sitting in a chemise, he knew not.
He had to admit, however, a begrudging sense of admiration had slipped in.That sort of spirit and drive, he understood.It was one of the few things he did comprehend.Having few memories hindered a man in so many ways, every day brought new frustrations, but determination kept him from falling into despair.
When she finished her food, she wiped her fingers primly on a napkin and stood as though she were wearing a fine gown.Something about her countenance—the proud shoulders, lifted chin, struck him as familiar, but the sensation left as quickly as it came upon him.Even though she was a small woman, her bearing certainly made her appear stronger and more powerful than she really was.
A weaker man, he suspected, would have crumbled and released her by now.
