Jamie shook his head and tipped his tankard toward her. “I watched her pour both from a pitcher on the table over there. She served others from it, too, just before she poured ours, so I’d wager ’tis safe.”
Aftyn sniffed, then raised her tankard. “Here’s to ye being right, or we’ll both be down.”
Jamie laughed and touched the rim of his drink to hers, then took a sip. “Tastes the same as I’ve had before.”
Aftyn nodded and sipped. “We’re still breathing.” She took a larger swallow, suddenly needing fortification. She’d nearly succumbed to Jamie—to her own desires—only a short time ago. She’d wanted him since before she’d seen him in his bath. Kissing him only made the wanting more acute.
“Still,” Aftyn said, trying to lighten her own mood as well as his by teasing him about finding him in his bath, “she’d really be put out if she kenned what I saw only a wee while later.”
Jamie threw his head back and laughed.
It was the first full-throated, uninhibited amusement she’d seen him express. It thrilled her, and made her embarrassment over what she’d done today—and what she’d seen that day—worthwhile.
“Ach, lass,” Jamie finally said when he could catch his breath. He wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “I love when ye surprise me.”
But did he love her?
She forced herself to raise her glass in a silent toast while she overcame the shock sending tingles down her arms and legs. Where had that thought come from? Unless he kept his promise to guard her from Agatha, he would leave in a few days. She mustn’t let herself imagine he had any motive other than guilt over what he’d said to Agatha. Yet he gave his smile only to her, and the twinkle in his gaze sent lightning flashing from her lips to her toes, melting everything in between.
They drank in silence for a few minutes, then Jamie asked, “What did ye say to Mhairi to put a new backbone into her? She seemed not at all like a lass Rory had been beating.”
So, he also needed to take down the temperature between them. Aftyn shrugged one shoulder. She understood he wasn’t ready to talk about what happened on the way back from Robena’s. “We discussed her future should something happen to Rory. She’s already lost one husband, ye ken. It was hard on her and she couldn’t see past losing another. I reminded her that she’d stood on her own two feet after her husband died and she could do it again if she left Rory, or…” She paused and raised an eyebrow at Jamie, her scrutiny direct and full of implications. “If something happened to him. I saw the blood. How bad did ye hurt him?” She let her gaze roam over the breadth of his shoulders and the bulge of muscle in his sleeves in purely feminine appreciation.
“No’ as badly as I wouldha liked. Taught him a lesson he didna wish to learn, so he came at me with a blade, the fool, and wound up stabbing himself. I settled him down.”
She lifted her tankard in salute. “Aye, ye did.” Though he hadn’t killed the man, likely he deserved it.
“And ye gave Mhairi the strength to stand up to him.” Jamie lifted his tankard in response.
Aftyn felt the heat of a blush rising from her chest to her throat at his praise. “She had her own strength. Likely ’tis one reason she has so many bruises. I hope we have no’ made things worse for her,” she added to distract herself—and him.
“We’ll hear of it. The next time, if there is a next time, will be worse for him. He kens that.”
Aftyn shook her head and pushed her tankard away, suddenly despairing. “And when he hears ye have left the village, what do ye think he’ll do?” Jamie’s assurance irritated her. He didn’t live here. He didn’t know these people. She would be the one left behind to deal with the results of his actions. Couldn’t he see that?
She pressed her lips together, biting down on what she was tempted to say, and after today, what it hurt to think. That he had no business here, and should not feel obligated to stay.
* * *
Their food arrived justas Aftyn’s half-brother, Braden limped into the great hall, cradling his arm.
“What happened to ye?” She stood and helped him to a seat.
“Damn Archie hit me in the elbow with a practice sword.”
“Well, thank the saints it was made of wood and no’ a real one. Ye’d be minus half yer arm, would ye no’?” She carefully pulled up Braden’s sleeve and bent to study the offended joint, taking note of the bruised-looking swelling forming above and below it.
“Dinna remind me.”
“Can ye move it?” Jamie’s concerned expression reminded her they hadn’t met.
“Ach, Braden, this is Jamie Lathan, the visiting healer. Jamie, this is the Keith heir, Braden.”
Braden nodded to Jamie and demonstrated, shifting his lower arm a fraction of an inch and stifling a yelp as he paled. “The bastard broke it.”
“Aye, I fear so,” Aftyn told him, sympathy filling her.
“Can ye fix it, Aftyn? Ye must.”
