Page 49 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

“I’ve heard from Niamh that she’s a laird’s daughter, or niece. Yer a laird’s son - with a good chance o’ becomin’ a laird in yer own right. Tha’s something.”

“Nae much o’ something.” Ewan shook his head. “I ken where yer thoughts are looking - tae make reality o’ falsehood. But ‘tis… it wouldnae work. She’ll want tae go back tae her own kin soon enough.” He saw Alistair open his mouth, and shook his head. “Dinnae keep askin’ me. I’ve told ye the truth. I may need a wife, an fair soon, but Grace Lancaster isnae the woman fer me.”

“If ye say so, then I’ll leave it be. We’ll think o’ some other solution. Mayhap a widowed clan lady, or a lass who hasnae married.” Alistair glanced at the windows.

“’Tis getting on, an’ ye’ll want tae freshen up afore we go down tae supper.”

Ewan rose from his chair and stretched, grimacing as the skin over his wounded side and shoulder tugged. He was healing well, but that didn’t mean it was always comfortable. “Time enough fer a bath?”

Alistair shrugged. “Mayhap, if ye took a short one. If ye want a proper soak, then I’d say ‘twould be better tae wait until after supper.”

A quick wash would wipe away the worst of the road dust. “Supper, an’ a bit o’ sparrin’ and a bath afterward?”

Alistair smiled. “Sounds like a braw idea.”

The two of them finished their drinks in companionable silence, and Ewan followed his brother out into the corridors of his childhood home.

No longer his home. It was only now, when the possibility of become the Laird MacTavish loomed so close that Ewan realized how comfortable he’d become in MacTavish Keep.

He could truly make a home there, if he claimed the lairdship. He had not realized it before. It was a strange thought. He only wished that Grace would also desire to make a home beside him. Ewan pushed the thought away. He had enough challenges to face - there was no point in wasting time or energy on futile dreams of things that he could not obtain.

Dinner proved to be an interesting experience. Rather than eating in the Great Hall as Grace had expected, they gathered in a smaller room, around a circular table. Niamh smiled at her confusion. “They arranged this fer me, so I dinnae have tae deal with meals in the Great Hall fer now.”

Grace nodded. She’d expected to dine with Niamh, Alistair, and Ewan. She was surprised to be joined, however, by Catriona and a sturdy man she introduced as her husband, Evan MacLean. They were accompanied by a quiet, wide-eyed toddler who clearly possessed his mother’s hair and eyes, and the beginnings of his father’s square-framed build. Catriona lifted the lad into her arms. “Grace, this is me son, Ian. Ian, say hello tae Grace.”

The boy stared at her wordlessly. Catriona sighed. “Och, he’s a shy one. I cannae say where he gets it from.” She set her son in a chair that had clearly been made for a child, and the rest of them took their places around the table.

Grace found herself sitting next to Ewan. Like her, he’d taken time to wash and change out of his dusty traveling clothes. He glanced her way as they took their seats, but said nothing, so Grace held her silence as well.

The servants brought dishes of potatoes, fresh roasted vegetables, bread straight from the oven, newly churned butter, sliced venison, and roasted fowl of some sort. There were also two types of cheese, one a deep yellow with a strong scent, and the other a paler cheese studded with nuts and herbs.

Ewan sniffed at the fowl dish and grunted in appreciation. “Moor quail. I’ve nae had a chance tae hunt it fer some time.”

Alistair smirked. “I guessed as much. But we had good fortune with the new dogs the kennel master has trained. I could see about sendin’ along some o’ the recent whelps, when they’re old enough tae be claimed.”

“’Twould be welcome. The kennels at MacTavish could use some new blood.”

Grace served herself from the nearest tureen of fragrant soup, then took a generous portion of each dish. The smells made her stomach growl with anticipation, and the bread, when she bit into it, was the perfect combination of chewy and firm, full of flavor. It went well with both of the cheeses, and Grace could happily have made a meal of that alone.

Beside her, Ewan was tucking into a quail with evident enjoyment. Grace glanced at the dish and noted it had been picked clean. She took a bite of the bird, curious as to the flavor.

It was good, but she found she preferred the venison. And with the beginnings of a meal in her belly, she wasn’t as hungry as she’d thought she was. She nudged Ewan with her elbow. “Here.”

She transferred the rest of her quail to his plate. Ewan blinked. “Ye dinnae like quail?”

“Not as much as you seem to. I believe I will be quite content with the venison and the rest of the meal.” She offered him a brief smile, which he didn’t return, then turned her attention back to her own plate.

She caught Niamh giving her a considering look, and resolutely ignored the question she could see in her best friend’s eyes. Yes, she had given Ewan the quail, but it was simply a friendly gesture. There was nothing more to it.

The venison was cooked and seasoned perfectly, and the vegetables were roasted to just the right point where they crunched in the teeth, without being raw. The potatoes were firm and earthy, perfect with a small pat of butter. Maids offered wine, tea, and mead with the meal, and Grace took wine - a strong red that offered a sharp counterpoint to the flavors of the meal.

Ewan, she noticed, took mead, and Niamh sipped a cup of what seemed to be mint tea. Mint tea was said to help with digestive issues, though Niamh had not spoken of being ill with her pregnancy. She would have to ask later.

Following the main courses, the servers brought out honey cakes and fruit tarts, with cream and small portions of honey sugar, all served with a soothing tea blend to finish off the meal. It was wonderful, and Grace ate until she felt satiated to the point of sleepiness.

The conversation was low and infrequent, but the silence was not uncomfortable. Rather than feeling like an outcast, a stranger among people who were all good friends, Grace felt welcomed and embraced by the clan. The feeling of being accepted made her relax.

She hadn’t realized, not until Catriona’s greeting earlier that day, how much she’d feared that she would be shunned because of her English origin. She presumed that Niamh must have told her new friends the truth, but she hadn’t expected to be so easily drawn into the warm circle of kinship that existed here. Especially not with Alistair MacDuff at Niamh’s side.