Page 47 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"Aye, me laird. I mean, nay, I dinnae," he said finally. "I understand."

"Good." David's gaze swept the hall, making sure everyone heard what came next. "Let me be clear for anyone who's wonderin'. Lady Elinor is me wife. Lady of Keppoch. Yer lady. Whatever family she came from, whatever name she bore before, it daesnae matter. She's a MacDonald now. And anyone who has a problem with that can bring it tae me directly."

Silence held for a heartbeat. Then two.

Then a woman near the back called out, "Welcome, me lady!" Her voice was warm.

Others joined in. Not everyone, Elinor could still see some faces that remained carefully neutral, some eyes that refused to meet hers. But enough. Enough voices raised in welcome, enough smiles offered, to shift the atmosphere from hostile to merely uncertain.

"Thank ye," Elinor called back, pitching her voice to carry. "I'm honored to be here. To be part of Clan MacDonald."

The words felt strange in her mouth. Foreign. But also, surprisingly true.

David's hand found hers under the table, squeezing gently before releasing. A brief touch, barely a moment, but it steadied her.

He stood up for me. In front of his entire clan, he defended me.

The meal continued. Conversations resumed, louder now, as though the brief confrontation had broken some invisible barrier. Elinor found herself relaxing slightly, letting herself enjoy the food.

And there was so much food.

Roasted venison, rich and tender. Fresh bread with butter that actually tasted like butter, not the rancid substitute her father's cook had used. Vegetables that hadn't been boiled to grey mush. Cheese that was sharp and flavorful. And desserts, actual desserts, sweet and indulgent and completely unnecessary.

Elinor tried to maintain her composure, eat slowly, carefully, the way a lady should.

But God, she was hungry.

Not just physically, though she was that too. But hungry in a deeper way. For flavor. For abundance. For the simple pleasure of eating without calculating how long it needed to last, without worrying that it might be the only meal she'd get that day.

She reached for another piece of bread, then another slice of cheese. Her plate kept emptying, and she kept refilling it, trying to be subtle about it. Trying not to look like she was starving.

Beside her, David said nothing. But she could feel him watching her from the corner of his eye.

She flushed, setting down her fork. "I'm sorry. I'm eating too much."

"Nay." His voice was quiet, meant only for her. "Eat as much as ye want, lass. There's plenty."

"It's not ladylike."

"It's perfectly polite tae enjoy a meal." His tone was firm. "Especially when ye've been travelin' fer days and likely havenae had a proper meal in longer than that."

Elinor's throat tightened. He knew. Of course he knew. He'd seen her at the inn, devouring her food like she'd never see another plate. He'd noticed her hunger even when she'd tried to hide it.

"And it's me pleasure, if I'm bein' honest. Ye should see yer face when ye taste somethin' ye like. Like ye've just discovered the sun rises in the east."

Despite herself, Elinor smiled. "The food is very good."

"Aye. Cook will be pleased tae hear it." He reached for his own cup, taking a long drink. "Ye should tell her so tomorrow. She'll appreciate it."

The rest of the meal passed more easily.

People approached the high table to introduce themselves, some warmly, others with polite reserve. Elinor did her best to remember names, to smile appropriately, to play the part of the gracious new lady.

But she was exhausted by the time David finally stood, offering her his arm.

"Walk with me," he said. "The gardens. Fresh air will dae ye good."

She took his arm gratefully, letting him lead her out of the hall and through a side door she hadn't noticed before.