“Shortbread is for after,” he told her firmly. “And nae too much. Ye are still nae well.”
“Aye, lassie,” Dallas said, leaning forward and tapping the table. “Ye must get strong again.”
With a long-suffering sigh, the little girl reluctantly pulled the bowl toward herself and bravely picked up a spoon.
Laurie had the place of honor tonight, sitting wrapped up in blankets on Creighton’s chair. The Laird’s chair was the only one with a back and arms, the other seats being nothing more than wooden benches. Creighton sat beside her, with Dallas opposite.Theo and his father, Marcus, sat alongside Dallas, and Andrew hunched silently over his trencher beside Creighton.
So far, dinner was a quiet affair.
“There’s a lot of gossip around the Keep today about yer betrothed, me Laird,” Marcus said carefully, pulling a chicken leg free from the carcass. “She’s gettin’ very involved in the healin’ chambers. Is it wise to give her so much authority?”
“Whatever authority she has is her own,” Creighton responded bluntly. “I have neither given her any nor taken it away. She does as she likes.”
“Aye, I can see that,” he muttered. “She’s settin’ rules in place. I daenae ken how I like that, me Laird.”
“Da, she’s just tryin’ to help,” Theo interjected, catching Andrew’s eye across the table. “If she hadnae been here, and we’d only had Drunk Donal to help us, then…” he trailed off, swallowing. Nobody wanted to finish that thought. Creighton threw a quick, unwilling glance at his sister, who was now eating her broth with more gusto than before.
We all ken how last night could have ended,he thought grimly.
“Well, I think that boundaries must be drawn up,” Marcus continued. “This is a short-term thing. Everybody knows she’ll be goin’ back to Bryden Keep after the year is up, so why should we trust her to make great changes now?”
“I daenae agree,” Theo managed uncomfortably, not looking his father in the eye. “I think we should let her help us.”
“Aye, Marcus, let her help,” Dallas put in, pushing a piece of buttered bread toward Laurie and dropping her a wink. “And let’s nae talk about such heavy matters tonight, eh? This is a quiet wee supper, and we should all just sit around and concentrate on getting’ to ken each other better, aye? I barely ken Lady Nora meself, and I am lookin’ forward to gettin’ closer to her.”
As if he’d summoned her by talking about her, the large doors at the end of the hallway creaked open, just enough to admit a single figure.
“Lady Nora Lane, me Laird,” called one of the sentries on duty. The other men at the table rose dutifully to their feet. Creighton, who was in the process of dunking a piece of bread in Laurie’s broth for her to eat, did not immediately get up. When he glanced up, catching Nora’s eye across the length of the room, he froze.
She’d gotten a new dress, clearly, as he’d asked Andrew to instruct her.
A red dress.
The gown, simply cut, fell evenly around her frame. It made her seem taller in the flickering firelight. There were long sleeves—drapes of fabric that must surely have irritated her practical healer’s taste. The dress glowed like a ruby, smooth and silky,all one even color. Her hair was loose, brushed until it shone like burnished gold, flowing down past her shoulders in a heavy curtain.
His mouth had gone dry. He swallowed thickly, trying to force some moisture over his tongue and down his throat.
“Creighton,” Laurie spoke up, displeasure simmering in her voice. “Ye have soaked me bread too long. It’s gone all mushy.”
“Sorry,” Creighton mumbled, dropping the soggy bread into the broth. “Nora, there ye are. I thought ye were nae joinin’ us.”
He rose to his feet, joining the other politely standing men.
“Shuffle down, lad,” he ordered Andrew, and gestured for Nora to sit beside him.
Why did I do that? I ought to put her further down the table, where she cannae bother me. Where I willnaenoticeher.
That was foolish, though. How could he possibly avoid noticing her in that stunning dress that hinted at her curves without revealing them? More skin was covered in this gown—around her neck and on the backs of her hands—than in her healer’s outfits. So why did it feel so much more revealing? Why couldn’t he look away, even when he tried?
Nora cleared her throat, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and advanced toward the table.
She’s nervous. Uncomfortable. Is it the dress, or is it the meal? Is it me?
Before he could investigate this thought, she reached her place, slipping onto the bench beside him. A gust of rich, savory herbs reached his nose, and he fought not to breathe in deeply.
“Nora, look! I’m eatin’ all me broth,” Laurie chirped up happily, beaming at her. “Creighton said that I’ll have to have more medicine before bed.”
“He’s right, I’m afraid,” Nora answered with a smile, reaching out for a piece of bread. “But ye can have shortbread to sweeten the taste.”
