Duncan entered the Great Hall a little later than usual. Servants were already moving between the benches with practiced ease, placing bread and steaming platters of meat before the gathered members of the household.
Rain had begun to strike the high windows in steady sheets, while the wind rattled faintly against the shutters as the storm strengthened outside.
He paused just inside the doorway, allowing his gaze to move instinctively across the room. It took him only a moment to realize what was wrong.
Elaina was not there.
Catriona was seated near the center of the table speaking animatedly to one of the older council members. Iain leaned back in his chair nearby, and his attention was divided betweenthe conversation and the mug in his hand. But Elaina’s place remained empty.
Duncan frowned faintly.
Perhaps she was simply late.
He crossed the hall and took his seat at the head of the table. Catriona looked up immediately.
“Duncan,” she said brightly. “Ye’re finally?—”
She stopped. Her eyes moved past him. Then back again.
“Where is Elaina?”
Duncan blinked. “Ye havenae seen her?”
Catriona shook her head slowly. “I thought she would be with ye.”
Across the table, Iain lifted his gaze.
“Aye,” he said. “I assumed the same.”
“Perhaps she simply was nae hungry,” Duncan kept his voice steady. “Or she has some… urgent healer business.”
He tore a piece of bread, though he had no intention of eating it. The movement gave his hands something to do, something that might disguise the faint tension settling into his shoulders.
Across the table, Catriona watched him for a moment, then she sighed. It was not done loudly, but with the unmistakable patience of someone who had endured this sort of behavior many times before.
“Och, for heaven’s sake, Duncan.”
He glanced up. “What?”
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
“Pretending ye have nay feelings willnae make them go away.”
Duncan froze. The piece of bread remained halfway between the table and his plate.
“I have nae idea what ye are talking about.”
Catriona gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Aye, ye dae.”
Iain, sitting nearby, lifted his mug slightly but said nothing. The faint curve at the corner of his mouth suggested he had no intention of interfering. Duncan set the bread down.
“Ye are imagining things.”
“Am I?” Catriona asked calmly.
“Aye.”
She leaned forward slightly now, lowering her voice so the rest of the table would not overhear. “It has been obvious fer quite some time that ye care about her.”
