Page 16 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
The men resumed their conversation as Davina and Aileen took their seats. They started discussing the trade agreements the laird had been negotiating during his time on the Isle of Mull.
Aileen intervened. “Ye are right tae be wary. The MacNeils’ connection with the privateers of the Island of Canna is well kent. After all, it is ye, Everard, who assisted the petition tae King Robert granting their ships’ right-of-way. Dinnae think Alexander MacDougall is unaware of this and doesnae curse ye fer it.”
When hearing the name ‘Alexander MacDougall’, something hazy stirred in her memory, awakening a decidedly unpleasant feeling and causing the breath to hitch in her throat.
Everard was quick to notice her concern.
“What is it lass? Ye’ve turned pale as a wee snowdrop.” He reached over and poured some ale from the jug on the smalltable beside his chair and offered the cup to Davina. Her hand was trembling as she took hold of the mug.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and sipped the ale before speaking. Everard, Maxwell and Aileen were focused anxiously on her as she struggled to find words.
“I dinnae ken. It was the name of MacDougall. A feeling came over me when I heard the words. It was as if a shadow passed over me heart.” She shuddered. “I ken the name. It came up from some dark depth of me mind when ye spoke it.”
Glancing from Aileen and Maxwell her eyes came to rest on Everard’s face and the concern in his blue eyes.
As she met his gaze a flow of warmth coursed through her.Comfort. Safety. Care.
When he spoke, his voice had lost its brusque tone. “It seems there is a thread between MacDougall and the past ye cannae recall.”
“I believe that is so.” She nodded slowly. “Yet what I ken is that MacDougall is a bad man. If he has somehow touched me past, it is not fer good but fer evil.”
Aileen leaned over and patted Davina’s hand. “Dinnae fret, lass. Mayhap more of yer memory will return and ye will uncover the truth of yer past. But dinnae be afeared. Although we are forced tae negotiate with MacDougall and assume a cordial associationwith the man, he is nay friend tae me MacAlpin Clan, nor tae the MacNeils. Yer words will stay with us. Laird Everard will continue tae keep ye safe from those who might dae ye harm.”
Everard gaze into the fire. He leaned his elbows on his knees, lost in thought.
After some minutes had passed, he sat back in his chair and turned to Davina. “MacDougall has long held an affinity with the Island of Mull and its clan. I recall that it was on Mull that those two brutes came seeking ye. Mayhap we must pay more attention tae the isle and ensure we keep our wits about us when we next venture there.
Maxwell nodded. “And, of course it is almost spitting distance from the Isle of Iona.”
No one spoke. Davina remained quiet, letting all this newfound information settle into her thoughts. Somewhere, there was a connection between all of that, that might lead her to unlock the memories hidden so deep inside her. The question uppermost in her mind was,Dae I want tae ken?
Their mood lightened as the door opened and a retinue of serving maids trooped in with an array of dishes for their supper. They laid pewter plates on the table and set out bowls and platters of delicacies, the like of which Davina had never tasted or even seen before.
To start there was an assortment of delicate mushroom pastries and noodles with sheep’s cheese. The lentil and barley puddingshe found especially delicious. After that she waded through large helpings of a chicken dish followed by a fish pie. But, for her, the sublime treat was the apple pudding.
“Ye’ve an appetite, Mistress Davina,” Everard observed with a smile, offering her a dish of honey-walnut candies. Even though she could hardly manage another mouthful, she found them impossible to resist.
There was wine to drink and a taste of the delicious mead the Laird and his brother brought from the Isle of Vatersay that same day.
As they again took their places by the fire, Davina could hardly summon a word.
“Did ye enjoy yer supper?” Aileen enquired, smiling.
“Aye. ‘Twas more delicious than any I’ve eaten before.” Noting Everard’s and Maxwell’s smiles, it occurred to her that she had most likely made a proper pig of herself with her overriding enjoyment of the feast.
She giggled, caring little for her display of gluttony. Lord knew how long she would be able to remain at the castle and such a rare treat was to be savored to the fullest extent.
“The convent served us only gruel and stale oatbread on most days. Rarely did they serve us meat. Even then, it tended tobe little more than a dry and gristly mouthful. And there were never…” she paused to shake her head dolefully. “…any sweets.””
“That explains it.” Everard chuckled softly. “I understand now where yer sweet tooth comes from.”
“Oh? Ye’ve noticed?” The familiar flush heated her cheeks. It was not embarrassment, but rather her realizing that the laird had been taking note of her penchant for sweetmeats. She had no idea how to make sense of this new discovery. He’d been taking notice of her – as if she wassomeone.It hadn’t occurred he might be paying attention to her, as she was to him. Curious as this was, she was certain her didn’t feel the strange melting inside she experienced whenever he was near.
She cast a glance at him and met his eyes. There was something there she’d never seen in another’s gaze. His blue eyes had darkened to indigo. The darkness in his gaze caused something tightly held inside her to begin what she could only think of as unravelling – a kind of pleasant loosening, as if all of her was turning to liquid.
He was the first to look away.
It was only then Davina saw both Aileen and Maxwell watching what had passed between them. Their faces held rather perplexed expressions.
