“You’re shivering, Lady De Burgh,” Conall’s voice broke into her racing thoughts. “If you’d allow me tae escort you back tae your rooms—a fine suite where I’m sure you’ll be comfortable. Then we’ll find you some clothing, though you see we’re not much for trousers here—”
“Aye, you Highlanders are a strange lot,” Aislinn cut him off, glancing at their bare knees and thickly muscled calves. “Running around bare-arsed beneath your tunics—and don’t think to bring me a woman’s gown for I’ll not wear it!”
She took a few steps backward as her stomach growled loudly, Aislinn feeling so famished of a sudden that she feared she might faint.
“By God, fetch the woman some food! Some water!” came Cameron’s roar at the servants standing nearby, while Conall caught her forearm as if to steady her though Aislinn tried at once to wrench herself free.
“Have you not done enough fighting for one day?” he reprimanded her in a low voice while glancing at Cameron, who had stridden off toward the great hall. “You nearly skewered my brother with his own sword when he’s done nothing but try tae help you since you were pulled out of that hole. Now come or I swear I’ll pick you up and carry you—”
“I can walk!” she retorted, though in truth her knees felt wobbly, Conall not letting go of her arm as he followed after Cameron.
The servants had scattered and the guards were gone as if his thunderous command had snapped them out of some trance, while the place had erupted into a flurry of activity.
Wall torches lit to brighten the high-ceilinged space, while she could see Cameron himself stoking the flames in a massive fireplace, his broad back to her and Conall as they drew closer.
Long trestle tables were already set for the morning meal, which made Aislinn wonder when more occupants of the fortress would flood into the hall to eat, her stomach growling even more loudly.
Conall hadn’t said another word to her, any congeniality she had felt from him having disappeared as his gaze seemed to be focused upon Cameron.
“Do you always speak for your brother?” she demanded as Conall steered her toward a table near the warming fire. “Who is the true laird here?Youor him—oh!”
He had stopped so abruptly that Aislinn stumbled, but his tight grip upon her arm kept her from falling. Yet if he’d meant to say something, another terse command from Cameron, his back still turned to them, made Conall once again propel her forward.
“Tell her tae sit down.”
“My brother wants you tae sit down—”
“I heard him!” Aislinn protested as she was led to a carved chair, clearly one of honor, as most of the other seating in the hall was comprised of rough-hewn benches. The furnishings reminded her so much of her father’s hall in Wexford, but she had no more time to think upon it as she was unceremoniously pushed down into the chair, Conall finally releasing her.
She rubbed her forearm, glowering at him as he frowned back at her, the amiable younger brother replaced by a grim-looking warrior who struck Aislinn as somehow overly protective of Cameron—though she couldn’t imagine why.
She had seen few Highlanders as formidable-looking as Laird Campbell, even with his back still to them as he appeared to stare into the fire.
His midnight hair skimmed immense shoulders that looked as powerful as his muscular arms as he prodded and poked at the crackling logs, though the blazing fire was more than stoked by now.
Whatever was he doing? Some instinct told her that mayhap he was lost in thought, or even trying to distract himself, until another roared command split the air and made Aislinn jump in her chair.
“Blast and damn, where is the food?”
As if his demand caused the double doors at one end of the hall to fly open, servants came running with pitchers and steaming bowls and trenchers laden with what Aislinn could smell was freshly baked bread—making her mouth water.
It seemed another moment and she had a steaming portion of porridge set in front of her, another servant pouring a generous amount of cream onto the top. She was so hungry that she couldn’t wait any longer, and grabbed a thick slice of bread slathered with golden butter from a trencher and thrust it into her mouth.
“Tell her tae eat more slowly or she’ll choke—as well as make herself sick.”
“Aye, you’d best eat slowly or you’ll choke,” came Conall’s response, which made Aislinn bristle.
She wanted to shout at him that she’d heard Cameron—aye, she didn’t need Conall to repeat everything the man said!—though her mouth was too full to speak.
The bread tasted like heaven—aye, the butter both sweet and salty on her tongue as she chewed and chewed, her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel’s.
Finally she was able to swallow, but just as Cameron had said, she began to cough and wheeze as the bread clogged her throat. Aislinn grabbed for a cup that had been filled to the brim with water. She was so desperate to drink that she spilled much of the contents down the front of her nightgown, but she didn’t care—saints help her, shewaschoking!
“Dinna stand there, Conall, pound her on the back!”
As if he intended for her to struggle for a heart-stopping moment, Conall moved slowly to her side and gave her a sharp thump in the middle of her spine.
She had just taken another desperate swallow of water, the liquid spewing out of her mouth even as she swallowed the lump of bread, Conall gazing at her wryly.
