Page 3 of Highland Secret
One ebony brow lifted.
Dangerous. This man was dangerous. He had killed many and would do so again before his death on the morrow.
Those compelling green eyes held her prisoner.
“Would you like me to bring you some ale?” she asked, desperate to shake the yawning darkness that unexpectedly accompanied the idea of his inevitable demise. The least she could do was offer the man a drink. “’Tis a lovely summer brew, light and malty and it goes well with the stew. Uh, I don’t drink it much, only because I’m not allowed without it being taken from my pay, oh, and because I can’t be inebriated while I serve, besides. But, I snuck a tip from the cask once, and I thought it quite refreshing.” She flinched and bit her tongue to halt any further inane speech from leaving her fool mouth. He must think her dull witted and awkward indeed, which apparently, wasn’t a stone’s throw from the truth.
His jaw dipped in a nearly imperceptible nod.
“Right then.” Flashing him a nervous smile, she adjusted her itchy cap and escaped back to the kitchen.
If only she could catch her breath! All but throwing her tray to the counter, she rushed to the pantry, flinging herself against the door, heedless of the darkness. Bending at the waist, she clutched at her apron and panted as though she’d run a league.
What was happening to her? It had ceased to be this difficult so long ago. Not since London had she so battled with her conscience. Instead, she’d struggled to accept what knowledge she had, to do what she must tosurvive. Nothing should be asked of her beyond that. She didn’t choose this curse, thissight; it’d beset her at birth. And, unfortunately for the wicked andbeautiful Berserker, she’d never been able to alter the fate of another, no matter how urgently she desired it.
Chapter 3
“See, I told ye he was an eerie bastard.” Abby nodded to Nellie, another serving maid with copper hair and a mass of freckles. “Nearly scared the slippers off Evy, here.”
Evelyn grimaced at the nickname that Abby had coined for her. They didn’t call her ‘Evie’ or ‘Eve’ but ‘Evy’ as it rhymed with ‘heavy’. Painfully aware of her rounded figure, she couldn’t stop herself from smoothing her apron self-consciously.
“He would like some ale, sir,” she mumbled to Moorland, ignoring the women.
“While you’re at it, take this pitcher to the Mackay table. Those lads be needin’ a drink after their nasty battle wi’ the Donald a se’nnight ago.” He clucked in sympathy
She hoisted the tray onto her shoulder and left, dreading the Mackay table. They’d had much to drink already and were becoming over-loud and bawdy.
“Here you are, Milord,” she carefully placed the fullest tankard on the table at the Berserker’s elbow, “and I brought you linen to protect your thighs—trews!”
Christ’s Bones!To mention a body part was impropriety of the highest nature. But she’d been staring at his sinuous legswhile she’d been talking and noticing the cords and ropes of muscles visible beneath the shamefully tight leggings.
Cheeks burning, she risked an upward glance.
He reached his big hand out and removed the linen from her fingertips, draping it carefully across his lap and looked back to her, a twinkle of amusement glinted in his devilish eyes.
The brackets around his hard mouth seemed carved into a frown. Had he not much reason to smile? She stomped on her curiosity. It was of no consequence, besides, tomorrow he would be—
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, enjoy your supper.” She turned around and grimaced once more, closing her eyes and shaking her head at her stupidity.
Making her way to the Mackay table, she swore she could feel his dark and potent regard caress her spine.
Alarming, that.
Don’t look at him. Do not look back.As she made her way through the throng, speculation regarding the mysterious stranger drifted to her on the heavy air.
“I heard that when they berserk, they flash lightning from their eyes.”
“It’s true he’s mute, the gods took a price before blessing him with the Berserker rage!”
“He has the strength of ten men, he does, just look at that sword!”
“Makes one wonder about hisothersword.” Evelyn narrowed her eyes at Abby’s annoyingly feminine purr as she swished passed with a full tray.
Unable to stop herself, her gaze strayed back to the quiet man consuming his dinner in thoughtful bites. Sighing, she couldn’t help but notice the occasional play of torchlight over the strong lines of his face, the flex of his temple as he savored each slow bite of stew. For a man reputed with such violenceand brutality, whose very presence emanated lethal menace, he commanded himself with almost gentle self-constraint. His manners compared with that of any noble present.
Better, in most cases.
‘Do their careless words sting you?’She wondered, distracted and enthralled by the silent and lonely figure as she noted the manner in which every person in the room gave him a wide and fearful berth. How like people. To enlist his help in a time of crisis, but shun and exclude him from their ranks. They ought to be ashamed.
