Page 27 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“Let me serve you, my love. I seldom get the chance to do so at home.” In moments he had spread the table with plates, cutlery, and napkins.

Before he could get everything set, Jane’s stomach complained yet again with a prolonged rumble. She clamped her hands over her abdomen, although with little hope that would help.

“Didn’t you eat breakfast?” Kinellan stared at her but continued setting out the dishes.

“I did, but apparently not enough. Here.” Jane busied herself helping him arrange a cold, boiled fowl, bread and butter and a huge hunk of Cheshire cheese, savory pies, little iced cakes, and several varieties of fruit. She plumped herself down on one of the chairs and removed her gloves. “Is there anything to drink?”

“But of course.” From the second canvas bag Kinellan produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Resourceful as always, my dear.”

“Well-planned, my love.” Kinellan poured the wine and Jane sipped avidly. The chicken proved as delicious as its aroma, the savory pies stuffed with spiced beef melted in her mouth. Bread, butter, and jam filled out the repast and by the time they had gotten to the fruit and cheese, Jane was more than pleasingly full.

“More wine, my dear?” Kinellan hovered the bottle over her glass and she nodded.

Sated for the moment, she stared at the handsome man seated across from her, another appetite rising. Perhaps a little nudge in that direction would be in order. “This has been quite a delightful picnic, Kinellan. I wonder how you intend to top such an excellent luncheon.”

Grinning wickedly, he poured his own glass and set the bottle down. “I have something in mind that will round out the day nicely.”

That gleam in his eye told its own tale. Jane’s body flushed and she sipped her wine again. Quickly. “Do tell. Or is this to be another one of your surprises?”

“Somehow I hardly think it will be a surprise.” Chuckling, he settled back into his chair, wineglass cradled in both hands. “As I told you, this lodge has been in use for hunting for almost seventy years. But it has had other uses as well.” The gleam in his eye brightened. “We had come up here hunting—oh, I was probably a lad of fifteen or so—and my father began a tale about courting my mother. He was well into his cups, mind you. But I wasn’t about to stop him.” Kinellan made a rueful face. “I might have made a different decision now, given the choice. I beg of you, when we have sons, please swear to me on your mother’s grave that you will not let me make such a complete fool of myself.”

Jane laughed and sipped more wine. “I will do my best, Kinellan, but you are a determined man.”

“You are a more determined woman, by far, so I beg of you to prevail no matter the cost. Anyway, he told me how he met my mother, and something of how he wooed her. Theirs was an arranged marriage, but they had met at a gathering like this one and had gotten along rather well.” Kinellan smiled at the memory. “Mother was ‘vera bonnie,’ as they say in the Highlands. So my father somehow persuaded her to ride out with him, not long before the wedding—much like I’ve done with you—and brought her to this lodge.” He gazed about and shook his head. “I expect it looked somewhat tidier then than now.”

Jane couldn’t repress a giggle. It certainly couldn’t have looked worse.

“He didn’t say if he packed a picnic or not, but they ended up here, ostensibly to show her the Falls and this property.” He paused. “I haven’t showed you the rest of the house yet, have I?”

“Well, we were rather busy with lunch.” A kind of peaceful feeling had stolen over Jane as he spoke. Part of it might be because Kinellan was making a connection with his past, in a way re-creating his father’s courtship. A sweet gesture she appreciated. It spoke well of the man she was about to marry.

“Let me show you now. There’s not a lot left to see.” He stood and held out his hand.

With a small groan, Jane rose from her comfortable seat and took it.

“The fireplace area serves as both kitchen and dining rooms. That bedroom under the stairs was always mine when I was a boy.” He led her to the stairs. “Up here are the rest of the bedrooms.”

“Do we really need to see those?” Stifling a yawn, Jane tried to keep her eyes open. The lovely meal and the excellent wine had put her in need of a nap.

“You look as though a bed is what you want, love.” He put his arm around her shoulders and helped her up the stairs to the corridor with three doors on one side and one on the other. “These were all bedchambers for the hunters.” He opened the three doors on the left and she stuck her head into each room, all very plain, each with a rough chest and two single beds.

“And the men would stay here how long to hunt?” The primitive accommodations did not instill confidence in Jane. She’d likely not make it here a single night.

“According to my father, sometimes a week or more.”

Grimacing, Jane moved to the single door on the right. “What room is this?”

“That chamber is reserved for the Kinellan.” He opened the door and ushered her in.

Much larger than the others, this room boasted a large double-sized poster bed with curtains around its four sides made of what once was a costly blue brocade fabric, though now faded and dusty looking. At the time they were new they must have been quite elegant. The walls of this chamber were not Spartan as the other rooms, but decorated with several sets of deer antlers, a portrait of some Seton ancestor, she assumed, and an ancient broadsword hung beneath the Seton coat of arms. A chest-on-chest and a wardrobe gave the room an aura of sophistication after the other sparsely furnished rooms.

“I see the Kinellan likes his luxuries.” She ran her hand over the comforter and pressed down on the mattress, testing the bed. “Although this mattress is quite lumpy.”

“Really?” Kinellan suddenly loomed overtop of her and she caught her breath. “That could be unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” Her voice rose to a squeak as he tipped her head back and lowered his mouth to hers.