Hamish grunted, reluctant to explain himself. His gaze roved around the room, which somehow appeared more homely andwelcoming than it had this morn. “Why is the table set only fer two? Is the Lady not eating with us?”
Siegfried buried his chin into the folds of his cloak. “I thought ter give the two of ye some time alone.”
Hamish huffed. “That is the last thing we need.”
A smile flickered across his friend’s face. “I also thought ye were a man in control of yerself.”
“Aye, well.” Hamish was noncommittal. “Surely ye have said none of this to the Lady?” The lure of the armchair proved too tempting for him to deny and he sank into it with a little grunt of pleasure.
“Give an old man some credit.” Siegfried stayed standing, but leaned his weight on the back of the opposite chair. “I told her that I needed ter rest. She didna protest, ye understand. In truth, she was quick ter show me ter the solar and invite me ter make good use of it.” He nodded to an oak door set into the opposite wall.
“Why are ye doing this?” Hamish frowned.
“Ye need a clear head and no regrets if ye are ter take back control of Greenock.”
He struggled to follow. “And ye think I will have regrets?”
“I think ye need ter be persuaded as to whether or nay yon Lady Isabella is a proper match for ye. Aye, she has a pretty face and a quick wit. But could ye sit and talk with her night after night whilst the wind howls about the keep?” Siegfried cocked his head. “Could she face the endless winters and toil?”
Hamish was momentarily lost in a daydream of he and Isabella sitting cozily by a roaring fire in his bedchamber at Greenock, whilst snow drifted outside.
“I doubt she kens the meaning of toil,” he said, forcing himself back to the present.
Siegfried nodded. “Exactly so.” He straightened up. “I shall take my leave.”
“Are ye not eating at all?”
“I have already sampled the Lady’s cooking.” Siegfried’s face was inscrutable. “My belly is full and I want only somewhere soft to lay my head. The thaw may come on the morrow.” He bowed to Hamish and swept away through the oak door.
Hamish settled himself more comfortably in the armchair. The fire threw out a good deal of warmth and were it not for his hunger and desire to see Isabella again, he might have dozed. When brisk footsteps sounded, he readied himself.
“I thought I heard you come in.” Isabella carried a heavy tray with apparent ease. Her hair hung in a single braid down her back and her cheeks flushed becomingly.
“Ye have been busy in the kitchen.” Hamish’s stomach rumbled audibly as he caught the scent of cooked meat.
“I have been pleased to keep myself busy.” She walked gracefully to the trestle table and began unloading her tray. “Idle hours sit heavily upon a person.”
Isabella was wearing braccae. They clung to her shapely legs and made it all too easy for him to recall how those same thighs had been wrapped around him last night.
Mayhap she was aware of the direction of his thoughts, for she hurriedly sat down.
“Will you not join me?” she addressed the opposite wall.
Hamish crossed the polished floor, aware that he had not cleaned the dust from his hands. Isabella would think him a highland heathen.
Surely the Earl of Felsham would never have sat down to dinner with dirt ingrained beneath his fingernails.
’Twas too late now. And the stew smelled too heavenly to resist. He tore off a hunk of bread and dipped it into the meaty broth, closing his eyes in pleasure as the rich flavors flooded his mouth.
“’Tis good,” he told her.
Her cheeks flushed again. “As I said, ’tis better to have purpose than not.”
He regarded her steadily, this woman that was full of surprises.
“I would have thought ye were accustomed to servants to cook yer food and serve it as well.”
At this point he noticed they had neither wine nor ale to wash down their food. Isabella had set goblets out on the table, but they were empty.
