Page 19 of Bride of the Mad Laird
Tòrr and Edmund rose to their feet as Lyra joined them.
“I trust yer chamber is tae yer liking?” Tòrr shifted in his seat to make room for her as she sat.
She smiled prettily. The sparkle in her green eyes meeting his gaze aroused a certain discomfort beneath his kilt.
“I’m nae at all certain that I willnae lose meself in such a large space. In me life at the Priory there was nowhere I could call me own. Everything was shared with others.”
“Is the idea of solitude distasteful tae ye?”
She shook her head, causing an abundance of curls to dance enchantingly about her face.
“’Tis something I look forward tae discovering.”
“Me dear sister will visit soon and she will provide ye with the companionship of a lass, at least fer a short time.”
She nodded politely, but he could see this line of talk held little interest for her. Clearly her thoughts were elsewhere.
Bowls and platters of food were put before them, a haunch of venison, lobster and cockle shells, yet it seemed Lyra had no appetite, for she ate little. He was a little affronted by her disdain for the hearty spread.
He leaned over and said softly. “Ye’ve eaten naught but a few cockles and a carrot. Is the food nae tae yer liking?”
She placed her spoon on the bowl. “’Tis rich food fer me. I’m nae used tae meat and these savory sauces.”
He chuckled.
Of course. How could I forget? The lass has brought the ascetic world of the Priory with her.
If he remembered right, St. Augustine discouraged all but the most rudimentary meals and was a strong supporter of fasting.
He signaled to a passing scullery maid. “Lass, bring a platter of cheese and oat cakes, with berries and nuts.”
Lyra reached over laid her small hand over his. “There’s nay need. I’m nae hungry.”
A delightfully wicked tingling shot up his arm from the place where her hand lay. It progressed all the way to his groin where it teased his shaft in a most unseemly manner.
By the saints! What in all that’s hellish is wrong wi’ me? The lass has nay idea what she daes wi’ her smiles and her touches. It was sheer hell riding fer three days wi’ her sweet form pressing against me – and she couldnae have cared less.
Taking a deep breath he shifted in his seat, glancing at Lyra sideways. He could swear she didn’t so much as register when he gently removed his great hand from beneath hers.
As the meal drew to a close, Claray appeared beside them at the table. She curtsied and smiled at Lyra.
“If ye please, there’s hot water ready fer a bath if ye wish tae bathe before ye take tae yer beds.”
Lyra grinned and, without a care, pressed her hand on his arm. “Och, that would be wonderful. I cannae wait tae wash away the grime of me days of travel.”
The sudden vision of Lyra, naked and pink in a tub of hot water almost took his breath away. He nodded his head, shifting in his seat to hide his discomfort.
“Thank ye, Claray. But I’ve more business tae attend tae this evening before I can claim me bed.” He turned to the beaming, delighted Lyra. “But, of course, by all means enjoy yer bathing Lady Lyra.”
He stood as Lyra rose to her feet. She gave him a graceful curtsy. “I am grateful fer yer hospitality and yer protection, me laird. I wish ye good night.”
He watched her following Claray down the hall until she disappeared through the door. Then he turned to Edmund.
“I’d like to meet wi’ ye again in me study, if ye please. There are matters I wish tae discuss.”
Nodding his acquiescence, his trusted advisor frowned. “Aye. There is much tae consider.”
No doubt Edmund would have some well-formed thoughts on the vexing matter of MacDougall and his pursuit of Lyra.
