“Are ye well? Ye look a bit pale.”
She flashed a wide smile at him. “Aye. A bit weary from yesterday, I fear.” Her brow furrowed as her eyes skipped over his face. “What of ye? Why do ye look like a rodent the cat dragged through the mud?”
“Och, aye,” Reade sputtered and rubbed this hand through his wild, tawny hair. “We rode south this morn through the dirt and mud, searching for this Paden fellow who accosted ye in the wood. We found naught, though.”
His voice dropped as he spoke. How could he tell her he didn’t find the man responsible for the bruise that yet marred her skin, even as he slayed the other Campbells who reived and violated their lands? It seemed a poor substitute for the man who had actually harmed and threatened her. Reade despised that he didn’t have better news for her, news that might help relieve the tightness around her eyes or the tension he felt under his palm that gripped her side.
Blair froze at the entry to the main hall. Her fingers gripped at his tunic, and her eyes widened on her pallid face. “Ye’re looking for Paden? Ye dinna have to search him out! He told me to meet him on the morrow in the woods!”
Reade stiffened, his arm crushing her against his chest. “Today, the same place I found ye yesterday?”
Blair nodded and a spot of color bloomed in her cheeks. “He’ll be there. Ye and your men can find him there.”
Reade’s face remained stoic, unchanging, as a plan formed in his mind. If the Gordon man was planning on meeting Blair, he’d most likely be alone, or perchance one other man at best. He’d not want to draw too much attention by having a battery of men ride with him. Nay, ‘twas an excellent chance he would confront Blair alone.
And be ripe for the picking.
“Then I shall meet him there,” Reade told her. He glanced back at the main hall. “Are ye coming for the midday meal? Let me escort ye there.”
Blair picked at herfood. Mairi brought her a cup of tea with honey, and Blair sipped at that while she picked at a dry oatcake. Mayhap she’d have more of an appetite for the evening meal. Her stomach, though not as sour, was still tight from her morning sickness. Reade sat next to her, spooning soup into his mouth absently. Something obviously weighed on his mind. Finding Paden, most likely. Deciding how to do it, as well.
But something darker lingered under Reade’s hard visage. Something else he pondered, something distracting him.
His words –then I shall meet him there– echoed in her head.
He hadn’t saidwe. He hadn’t suggested his men might go with him.
Blair dropped a crumb on her plate. Was she reading too much into this? Most likely. Rash though he might be, Reade would wait until his men finished eating and then ride out together. He wasn’t reckless enough to face Paden alone.
Meanwhile, she had her own distractions.
Blair’s hand moved to her belly, touching it under the table and out of view, as she marveled at the potential babe growing beneath her skin. Could she truly be carrying a child? Reade’s child? The idea of it made her head spin, and her stomach flip-flopped again.
Reade’s gaze caught hers, intense as he studied her in her seat. In that moment, Blair decided to tell him. ‘Twasn’t fair to keep such significant information from him. She opened her mouth to speak, but at the same time, his burning gaze moved away. Her mouth snapped shut.
Nay. He had too much on his mind right now. Better not to complicate it with news of a babe. Reade was focused on finding Paden and his meddling crew – he didn’t need any distractions.
Reade wiped his face with his sleeve and leaned toward her. “I’ll check the horses and my men, and I shall depart to search for Paden in the woods. We should return by eventide. Are ye well enough to enjoy the bed tonight?” His voice, low and sultry, sent a quivering thrill through her, making Blair forget her queasy stomach for a moment.
Blair leaned into him as well, touching her forehead to his. Seeing him like this, eager and caring, was such a contrast to the Reade she encountered yesterday, the one who was angry and thick-headed. She rather liked this Reade, and if they could manage to overcome his suspicions and her mistrust, then they would be well matched indeed.
Reade pressed his hand against her head and kissed her cheek, then rose smoothly and exited the main hall, leaving Blair to pick at her meal. The only thing she could really keep in her stomach was her rapidly-cooling tea.
She looked over the rim of her cup at those in the hall. Clansmen and women, servants, and guests alike chatted and moved about the refined hall, comfortable amid the lush carpets and tapestries, the smoothly polished mantle and the carved wooden trim the platters filled with food, silverware and the fine bronze candleholders hanging from the ceiling and the walls, as if any luxury the Glenachulish MacDonalds owned was shared by all.
Adaira sat with her younger brother Conall, laughing at something he told her. Adaira’s round face lit up the entire room, and Blair wondered what it would be like to laugh so easily, to have the support of a family and such ease with them. Blair had learned of another reason for Adaira’s glow. While they had been sewing, Adaira’s blushing cheeks and wide grin hadn’t been able to contain her news. She and the son of a Keppoch MacDonald chieftain, Sawny MacDonald, had recently discussed betrothal, and the lass was ready to sing from the rooftops. Her already ecstatic face shone all the more. Blair wondered what it would have been like for her to live Adaira’s life — one of family, security, and betrothed to a man she adored? To have a life where she could choose where to go and whom to love?
Her eyes moved across the tables to find Sorcha near the edge of the room, standing next to Seamus. They spoke to each other out of the sides of their mouths with the same casual ease of Adaira. Sorcha’s riveting gaze met Blair’s over the rim of her cup, and she smiled slightly. Blair tipped her head toward Sorcha in response. Their shared secret, their silent communication. Blair may have been forced into this life with the MacDonalds, but she had to admit, Sorcha, Adaira, all the MacDonalds in fact, had done right by her. More than her own family or the Gordons ever had. Perchance that was something. Perchance she might now have the life that made Adaira’s face shine and brought apples to her cheeks.
Blair sighed. She was going to have to tell Reade about the babe sooner as opposed to later. If nothing else, he’d catch her losing her stomach contents tomorrow morning as it was.
Reade slipped out therear kitchen door at the side of the inner bailey and marched with purpose toward the stables. He hated his lapse in truthfulness to Blair, but he hadn’t exactly lied to her. He told her he would search Paden out after the midday meal, he just hadn’t told her he was doing it alone.
The man that Reade had seen run off, or rather lumber off, was a shorter, portly man with sallow skin doughy from too much drink and a tattered Gordon plaid. He was not a threat, and Reade could easily take him alone. Even if the Gordon man had an accomplice with him, Reade had fought off more than one man in the past. Two pale, corpulent Gordons would be wretched fighters at best, not a threat.
More importantly, Paden had insulted and threatened his wife, and it was Reade’s responsibility to deal with the offending man on his wife’s behalf. ‘Twas what a husband did.
Flint had tied the horses off at the edge of the stable and brushed off the morning dirt and sweat. The misty air was rich with the scent of horse and his steed pawed the ground, ready for another ride. Reade slipped his hand over the beast’s long, chestnut neck, and the horse knickered at him.
