Having seen the assortment of weapons—including a claymore which Niall thankfully didn’t wear—Annie had no doubt he meant the words. Highlanders seemed to have their own code of honor to follow. Still, her heart fluttered a little as Niall opened the door for her and she silently walked inside.
****
“As long as the kelp stays dry, I do not mind it being put in a different location,” Owen said after Annie told him of the change in plans later that evening at the supper table.
Niall watched her covertly, thinking she looked far more relieved than a mere move of goods warranted. Had Haines been more critical of her than she mentioned?
“’Tis a good spot,” Annie said. “Thank ye for understanding.”
Owen grinned. “I try to be accommodating…at least, with charming ladies.”
Annie’s face turned pink. “I am nae sure I ever charmed anyone.”
“You do not give yourself enough credit, then,” Owen said. “You are quite captivating.”
Hell. MacLean was flirting with her. Annie’s blush had deepened. She didn’t blush when Niall gave her a compliment. Her face might turn red, but it was more oft from a fit of temper at one of his remarks.
“Ye are verra kind,” Annie passed a bowl of mashed turnips to him.
“I am sincere,” Owen replied, taking the bowl.
Niall put a forkful of meat into his mouth to keep from telling MacLean to stop it. Not that he had the right to say anything. He didn’t. He’d offered—well, Annie would sayinsisted—to escort her simply because he didn’t want her being attacked again. Any red-blooded Highlander—and certainly a MacDonald—would do the same.
Not that Annie didn’t intrigue him. She did. Stubborn. Proud. Independent…and immune to his own flirtatious comments. That was probably why he resented Annie’s seeming acceptance of MacLean’s remarks. They were like a gauntlet thrown down in Niall’s path. A challenge. Nothing more. He certainly was not jealous.
“Allow me to serve you,” Owen said as he spooned turnips onto Annie’s plate.
Annie smiled at him. “Thank ye.”
“It is my privilege,” Owen replied. “Would you like some oat pudding as well?”
“Aye, that would be good.”
Niall tore off a piece of bread and stuffed that into his mouth too. Had Annie suddenly lost the use of her own hands to put food on her plate? And what was MacLean trying to do, acting like some damn English courtier?
Owen glanced at him, a side of his mouth turned up in what looked like a smirk. “You are being awfully quiet this evening, MacDonald.”
It was a good thing his mouth was full or he would have said something he’d likely regret. Not that words mattered right now. MacLean had issued an unspoken challenge to gain Annie’s approval. Niall wasn’t one to turn down a fight. The gauntlet had been thrown. He was determined to win.
And he wasnotjealous.
****
“Really, the way ye run on about Mr. MacDonald and Mr. MacLean, I am wondering if ye doona kind of like the attention,” Nairna said Saturday afternoon as the Progress Club met at the tearoom.
Her twin, Kiara, giggled. “I ken I would.”
Annie glowered at them. “I am nae running on.”
Fenella smiled. “Aye, ye are a bit.”
“I am nae…” Annie paused and then sighed. “Och, ye are right. But I am doing so because the two of them are acting like bairns.”
“With all those weapons he wears, ’tis hard to imagine Mr. MacDonald as a wee bairn.” Cora laughed.
“Aye. He is verra braw,” Inis murmured.
Annie drew her brows together. This wasn’t the first time Inis had made that observation. “I dinnae say he waswee. I said he was acting childish. They both are, always trying to best each other, like lads in a schoolyard.”
