It was an odd statement, but Gretna didn’t have time to dwell on it as another knock on the door was heard and she rose from her chair, opening the door. Remy was on the other side and for a moment, Gretna just stared, drinking in the sight of him. He was wearing a fine tunic of soft green, one that made him look even more handsome than before, with his hair neatly combed and his sword at his side. A pair of brown breeks and his boots shone up to complete the look. If it wasn’t for the stubble on his face that made him look ruggedly handsome, she thought he could pass for nobility. “Good evening,” he told her. “I’m here tae escort ye downstairs.”
“I must leave,” the maid said quickly, ducking out of the room before Gretna could stop her.
They watched her go before Gretna turned her attention back to Remy. “Ye look lovely, lass,” he said, proffering his arm to her. “Like a vision.”
Her stomach curled appreciatively and Gretna fought the urge to check her hair. Remy thought she was lovely. He wouldn’t lie to her. “Ye could have done a better job at dressing for the occasion,” she blurted out, not certain as to what to say.
The twinkle left Remy’s eye and Gretna cursed inwardly at her awkward words. In truth, he was perfection as well, handsomer than she had ever seen him and James didn’t holdany sort of candle to the way that Remy looked. She shouldn’t say that about her brother’s closest friend, but gods help her, she couldn’t look away and that was concerning. “Remy.”
“Take mah arm, lass,” he said instead, ceasing any thought for an apology from Gretna. “Before ye are late.”
Right. She had somewhere to be. Gretna slid her arm through Remy’s, feeling the muscles of his forearm under her fingers, and forced herself to move, keeping a respectable distance between them. She didn’t know what to say to him, but there was an uncomfortableness with them now and Gretna didn’t like it one bit. Remy was her only ally in this keep, but he had, also, become a friend, someone who hadn’t commented on her oddness nor had he left her side.
He just made her feel things she shouldn’t, not for Remy. “I will be just a nod away,” he finally said as they moved down the last few stairs that would lead them to the great hall.
Gretna looked at him, feeling the fluttering of her heart in her chest as their eyes met. “Are ye troubled aboot something?”
“Nay,” he said quickly. “I donna think he will harm ye, but I canna let mah guard down, not here.”
Gretna opened her mouth to correct her words, but they were stepping into a crowd of people. Remy steered her toward where the laird and his son were waiting. James was handsome tonight, dressed in a blue tunic with silver threading and dark breeks, though he had no sword strapped to his side. His hair was artfully tousled on his head, with a small silver circlet pressed into his locks signifying his status.
That man could be her husband one day. Gretna’s steps faltered as she looked about, at the impassive faces that watched her approach. They were waiting for her to fail, to do something that would make her not worthy in their eyes. She was the enemy right now until proven otherwise.
But why did Gretna suddenly wish to run back to her chamber or better yet, be wherever Remy was?
“Lass?” Remy whispered just so she could hear. “Wot’s wrong?”
Gretna drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders, giving James a wide smile before releasing Remy’s arm. “Good evening, Laird,” Gretna said as she dipped into a curtsey before his father.
“Gretna,” James said, helping her to her feet, his hand lingering on hers a bit longer than needed. “Ye are a vision.”
His words didn’t affect her the way that she had hoped, but Gretna still gave him a warm smile. It was far too soon to be thinking that James wasn’t her true love, her lifelong mate. After all, they had just met.Love could come later.
“Thank ye,” she smiled.
He took her hand and led her to the seat next to the head of the table, the place setting already arranged for the feast.
“Ye will sit at mah right.”
Gretna swallowed, taking a seat in the chair. James putting her at his right could only mean one thing. He hadn’t been disappointed in meeting her. He was letting all of his clan know that he fully intended on going through with the marriage.
God help her, she had done it.
7
“And that over there is the eldest of seven children. He’s going tae be one of mah warriors, perhaps even mah second in command one day.”
Gretna barely glanced at the tall Scot laughing with another at the nearby table, wondering how much James expected her to remember about their conversation. She knew that he was attempting to familiarize herself with his clan and her future, but she was finding it hard to keep up with everything. Or, actually, listen at all.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like his voice. Nay, his voice was strong and soothing, light and teasing when need be, and matching the expression in his eyes. He was clearly passionate about the going-ons of his clan, stopping more than once to converse with his da, making sure that he was telling Gretna the appropriate parts of his stories.
But despite his words and compliments, Gretna found her eyes wandering about the cavernous great hall for a familiar face. True to his word, Remy was seated a few tables away with his men, a tankard in his hand and his eyes seemingly always onGretna. More than once, their gazes had met and he had arched a brow questioningly as if to ask if she needed him.
Each time she had blushed and turned her attention back to her suitor, but it didn’t stop Gretna from feeling the heated gaze on her even when she wasn’t looking. What was happening to her? Remy was not a suitable husband for her, nor should she even be entertaining the notion! He was her brother’s closest friend, a mere captain of the guard. He couldn’t give her a fine keep such as this one, or a title that would be befitting of all the hard work that Gretna had done all her life.
He couldn’t possibly be the person she would fall desperately in love with. After all, she had plenty of time to do so in the past and Remy wasn’t the type of man to settle on one lass. Gretna had watched his prowlings repeatedly over the years.
“Gretna?”
