Page 30 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Chapter Twelve

Their table was nearest the fire. More people had shown up since they had arrived, but due to lack of rooms at the inn, they were only stopping for a quick meal before making camp outside.

Bruce inhaled the smell of roast beef and potato and parsnip mash. The bannocks were hot, and the butter rich yellow in its crock. Blood red wine resting in glasses was inviting and glowed like a jewel in the firelight.

It was a feast compared to what they had consumed the past few days. But though Bruce was ravenous, his mind was a hive of angry hornets.

The nerve of Elspeth to play such a trick on him. She had spun lies with such ease; it made him wonder what else she had lied about. Beatrice, the innkeeper's wife, still threw him dark looks. It made no difference to him if people liked him or not. A Laird's job was to be fair and equitable to his people, not necessarily well-loved. His father had taught him that if you did your duty as Laird well, then the people would always love you. Duty came first. Always.

But people assuming he was an abusive husband rankled him. It was the furthest thing from the truth. Bruce had never put much faith in the belief that men must control their wives by being cold and disrespectful. He despised men who used force on their wives. It wasn't unheard of, but Bruce refused to stoop to such monstrous levels.

He was still brooding over these dark thoughts when the strong scent of citrus and limes surrounded him, and he looked up to see Elspeth taking the seat opposite him.

All annoyance and frustration swept away from his mind, like a child drawing in the snow and then wiping the chaos away with a swoop of their hand.

The dust and grime of the journey had been washed away from her visage. Cheeks glowing pink, her mouth was a cherub's bow and an invitation to sweet kisses. She wore a simple pink gown, but it was two sizes too small, pushing her generous breasts to greater prominence.

Bruce swallowed hard. Elspeth refused to look at him as she sat down to dinner. Bruce couldn't take his eyes off of her breasts.

"Shall I serve?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, a little dazed.

"You must be starving," Elspeth smiled. "And I'm honored that you waited for me."

She buttered a bannock and handed it to him. Then she served them both, and they began to eat. The food was just as delicious as Bruce had expected. The meat melted in his mouth, and the wine played exquisite notes on his tongue. It was ordinary fare, but to him it was like manna from heaven.

However, the sight of Elspeth enjoying her dinner was more pleasing to him. He watched as her eyes fluttered at the first bite of buttered bannock. A slight moan escaped her lips, and Bruce's mouth went dry. The wine did little to assuage the thirst that reared up from his loins.

"I ken yer cross with me," she said, sopping up the juices of the roast with a bannock. "But ye were being quite foolish."

"I beg yer pardon?" he said, his voice gruff and forbidding.

She looked up. Her green eyes uncertain for only a moment. Fear flickered in her eyes but was quickly replaced with defiance. "Aye," she said, sipping her wine. "Ye were about to refuse the room we desperately needed. Aye, we're nae man and wife, but they donnae ken that."

"Yer clan kens it, as does mine," Bruce stabbed his knife into the roast. "Have ye nae regard for yer reputation?"

"My reputation is already in tatters Laird Grant," she said, her eyes sparkling green flames at him. "I've spent over a week alone in yer company. I've slept in the grass and the dirt with ye. A bed will be an improvement. Donnae worry. Ye will be quite safe with me in bed."

The cheek of her! Bruce was flustered by her frank conversation. Had she noticed him looking at her in a less than respectable way? He sincerely hoped not. Yes, he was a hot-blooded man, and his thoughts had tarried to unsafe waters. But he had the utmost respect for her.

"... if ye plan to get married in the future. I will swear to yer betrothed that naught happened. I have more to lose, and I give it up freely."

"What?" he asked. He had tuned out when Elspeth had leaned forward for more wine, and her breasts had threatened for a moment to escape their confines.

"I said I would swear yer innocence to yer future wife. Ye will have nae shame attached to yer name in sharing a bed with me."

Bruce blinked. Marriage was far from his mind. Finding the Honors and restoring the rightful king to Scotland occupied all his time. And he doubted he would marry in exile. Unless...

His eyes lingered on Elspeth as she ate her dinner, her animated eyes, her sweet smile. If Elspeth followed him into exile, it wouldn't be the most displeasing thing. Maybe they could make a home together on some lonesome green hill. And why not? Elspeth was of noble stock. Their families were allied, and she would make a good wife.

But did she deserve a life away from her country and family? She was the perfect wife, but Bruce was not the ideal husband. It was a sobering thought.

"Was everything to yer liking?" Beatrice asked as she cleared away the dishes.

"Aye," Elspeth beamed. "It was the most delicious meal I've had in years."

Beatrice turned to him and fixed him with a piercing gaze. Bruce felt uncomfortable and squirmed in his chair.