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Graeme took her hand and leaned in toward her. “I thought we had agreed. No shyness between us.”

His whispered words sent a shiver through her.

“I did not mean—”

“Pity if it was not intentional.”

And then he very obviously looked down, directly at her chest. When he raised his eyes, they sparkled with merriment.

“That, I can assure you, was quite so.”

Without further discussion, not that Gillian would have been able to manage it, Graeme led her to the table.

“Good evening,” she managed to Aidan.

“I will apologize straightaway, Lady Gillian. My brother and I have been in discussion.”

He began to fill his trencher with rabbit and meat-filled pastries.

“In discussion?” She couldn’t help but smile. The mood was lighter than she’d have expected given the circumstances. No doubt they had been imbibing.

Graeme followed his brother’s lead, filling his own trencher. “Of sorts.”

Gillian looked between them, wondering which of the men would satisfy her curiosity about the private meal first.

Graeme took pity on her. “We thought it best not to appear in the hall as such. And though the circumstances surrounding the failed truce day are dire, we do, in fact, have a plan.”

She could not resist teasing him. “As such? Whatever do you mean?”

She had, of course, witnessed men in their cups before. Including her father. Some became rowdy. Some became angry. But Graeme and his brother merely seemed cheerful. There was something quite endearing about that.

“Wine, my queen?” Graeme poured her wine himself. Aidan almost choked on his first large bite of bread and looked back and forth between them as his jaw worked on the food. “Queen,” he finally repeated.

“Did your brother tell you how we met?”

Aidan took another bite. “Most,” he said. “But I’d hear your version too.”

Gillian smiled, remembering their dance.

“You currently dine with the May Queen herself,” Graeme said ceremoniously.

“Ahh, I wonder who proposed such an honor?”

She glanced at Graeme, whose guilty expression gave him away.

“Well then.” Aidan took one final drink, grabbed an apple, and stood. Without further comment, he walked toward the door more than a bit unsteadily and bowed. “Until tomorrow, fair queen.”

She watched the door close behind him.

“I do believe your brother is drunk,” she said, taking a sip of the red wine Graeme had poured her.

“I do believe you’re right,” Graeme replied with a smile.

They ate more slowly than Aidan, Gillian in no rush to finish. She’d considered all afternoon what to do next, torn between helping Allie and knowing Lyndwood was the last place in the world Graeme would desire to visit. Holding her tongue earlier had been the right thing to do, but she couldn’t keep her concerns from her husband forever.

“Drink,” he said, pointing to her wine.

“But I—”