But after a few moments of thinking it over, Ismay ran her fingers through her unruly hair in an effort to make it a bit less wild, then left her chambers.
Chapter Sixteen
Ismay sat inthe Great Hall at one of the trestle tables with Hilary MacDonald and Glenna Cameron. Supper was almost over, with the last course of honeyed tarts, fig pies, and shortbread with freshly churned butter. There were spiced wines, seasoned with cinnamon or ginger and ale seasoned with cloves to drink.
The MacMillans sat and drank at the Lochiel’s table, empty around them, save for Bethia sitting to her lady’s left. Hugh could be seen occasionally pacing along the longest table with food set out on it. No doubt, the steward was worried about the coffers.
When Ismay asked, Hilary told her the fine food and wine were offered to the Lochiel’s esteemed guests, his in-laws. The menu was Lady MacMillan’s doing, not the Lochiel’s, who still had not returned from scouting Achnacarry with his men.
Bethia did not come to Ismay’s table once the whole night. In fact, she barely looked at Ismay, proving she was the one who told Lady MacMillan about her.
Just after the last course was served, the Great Hall doors swung open. Every eye moved toward the sound, including Ismay’s.
Surprised at how deliriously happy she was when she saw Constantine standing beneath the doorway, Ismay almost shot up to her feet. She didn’t and she was relieved she didn’t. The way she swayed in her spot, her head spinning from the drinks or the sight of him, shewould have swooned and tipped over.
His gaze was hard and sharp as steel as it roved over tables, coming to settle on his in-laws. He started toward them, but then his steps paused and he turned his head to look at Ismay. Though his gaze was brief, his eyes seemed to speak to her.Fergive me.
She offered him the slightest of smiles in response. Outright fawning over him in the sight of his deceased wife’s parents would have been tactless.
Ismay did her best to find interest in anything besides him reaching them. Hilary, on the other hand, did not take her eyes off them.
“He appears verra angry,” Hilary observed.
“He always appears angry,” Glenna Cameron, Lewis’s younger sister pointed out, then narrowed her eyes on the Lochiel and his guests. “Who in all the Highlands wouldna be angry if they had a past with those two MacMillans in it?”
They all agreed. Ismay finally let her gaze drift back to him. He stood over his in-laws’ chairs, and Hilary was correct, he appeared angry indeed. He said a few more words then bowed and turned in Ismay’s direction.
She blinked away from him, mortified that she’d been caught admiring him.
He reached her in four long strides and stood before her. “I had no knowledge they were comin’,” he said apologetically. “I have requested that they leave in the morning.”
Her friends stared in surprise at his tender tone.
“Och, Lochiel,” Joan said in a pleading voice. “Is Lachlan not with ye?”
“The men have gone to bed,” he told Joan. “We have been in the saddle since sunrise. They were exhausted.”
“What about ye?” Ismay asked him. “Are ye not weary? Go on to bed, then—”
“I’m quite all right,” he assured her and requested Hilary’s seatbeside her.
His MacDonald cousin moved over and gave him her seat.
Plates and bowls were immediately set before him, along with spiced wine, which he asked be replaced with water.
“The battle begins tomorrow. I must keep my head free of spirits.”
Tomorrow. Her throat began to burn. “Ye should truly get some sleep, Chief. I want ye to be strong and return to—” She stopped, and bit her tongue. Not with his mother-in-law watching them with hellfire in her eyes. “—to return to yer clan. They need ye.”
He stared into her eyes as if he knew she was speaking of herself when she mentioned his clan.
“Verra well,” he gave in. “After I eat, and if ye allow me to escort ye to yer chambers. I dinna want to give Lady MacMillan any more opportunity to harass ye.”
She smiled at his thoughtfulness. She was sleepy anyway, so she agreed.
He ate while Hilary spoke on endlessly about this thing or that. It gave Ismay the opportunity to watch him bite into his bread and chew his food, his tongue darting out around his lips every so often.
He cut his glance to her a few times and smiled so briefly she thought she had imagined it. How could the mere slant of a man’s mouth and the flash of something warm in his eyes make her kneecaps turn to puddles? How could it make her want something she had never wanted before?
