Page 39 of Sinful Scot
“You saw him earlier?” Rhys asked.
She nodded. “Aye, in here. In truth, the richness of his and his companion’s cloaks caught my attention because I feared they could be the baron’s warriors.”
“Well, if he was one of Bellecote’s warriors, he would have already made a move.”
It took her a moment to unwind the meaning behind Rhys’s words, and then her mind became curious about what other words he might use in his time that she’d never heard of.
“Maggie,” he said, and she startled, realizing she had gotten lost in her own thoughts again.
She focused on Rhys once more. His simple nearness kindled heat in the pit of her stomach, and her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss. She wanted to kiss him again. It might be a sinful desire, given they were not wed or betrothed and may have no future, but she refused to fret about it. She had made her decision to seize these moments with him, and she intended to do just that.
“I agree with ye,” she replied, then ran her hand over the fur of the cloak. “This was verra thoughtful of ye.”
Rhys grinned. “You bring out all sorts of odd new behaviors in me, Maggie.”
“Is that a compliment?” she asked, arching her brows at him.
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle, leaning away from the table so the serving girl could set down their food and drink. She did so, then offered a quick bob before rushing toward a table that was demanding her attention.
Heat rose from the trencher of mutton and potatoes, making Maggie’s mouth water. She didn’t want to attack her food like a feral hound, but she was starving so she dove in, each bite more delicious than the next. The meat was cooked to perfection, easy to chew and well seasoned with rosemary, sage, and garlic. It wasn’t until she grabbed a chunk of bread and ran it through the thick sauce that she realized she had not even looked up from her trencher. Heat infused her face as she did so, mortified, and found Rhys staring at her. He rested his chin in his hand, and he had a wide smile of what appeared to be approval on his face. His own plate, she noted, had not been touched.
“Do ye think ye’ll nae like it?”
He smiled. “Judging by the smell of the food and the voracious way you’re eating it, I’m sure I’ll like it.”
She pursed her lips, embarrassed, and when she got embarrassed she tended to get snippy. “I suppose,” she said, leaning forward and lowering her voice, “that women in yer time do nae eat heartily.”
“They don’t,” he agreed, making her embarrassment at how she had eaten grow. “But—” he reached a hand across the table to grasp hers “—I love how you eat with gusto and appreciate every bite. Many women in my time are too concerned with how much they are eating to appreciate the meal and the moment.”
“Oh, I am appreciating this moment,” she said honestly. “We may nae have another good meal like this for quite some time since we will be traveling again tomorrow.” She paused, then asked, “What are women in yer age like?”
“No two women are the same,” he answered, which she liked. “And to be fair, I never took the time to really get to know any women other than my mother, and that was because she was my mother and we lived together for years. I thought I knew her well, but it turns out you can’t know someone very well when they’re hiding the fact that they came from another time from you.”
“Ye did nae know that?” Maggie asked, shocked.
He shook his head, released her hand, and took a bite of food. She felt the loss of his touch to the soles of her feet. He was a part of her now. For better or worse, he was in her heart. As he ate, she drank her mead, giving him time to slake his own hunger. Now that the initial surprise was fading, all the questions she wanted to ask him rolled around in her mind, and when he was done and sat back, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.
“What is yer life in yer time like?”
“That’s quite the question,” he said, picking up his goblet and taking a long drink of his mead. “It’s fast. Hectic. Stressful.”
She frowned. “That does nae sound verra enjoyable.” She realized she was oddly pleased, then felt instantly guilty for feeling that way. But she knew why she did. If he had not had a happy life in the future, maybe he would not want to go back.
He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, I have a good life—a very good one, by many standards. I run a successful company, like a clan in a way, with my three brothers, Reikart, Greyson, and Ian, and we are all really close. My dad started the company, but after my mom disappeared, we all thought my dad had gone crazy when he started claiming she had been taken back to the past,” Rhys said in a low voice. A look of guilt settled on his face. “We seized his company from him.”
She reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it. “I’m certain ye thought ye were doing what was best for him.”
“We were, but it hardly seems to matter now, in light of the truth,” Rhys replied, the anguish in his words making her heart squeeze. He was such a good, caring man. Why couldn’t he be from her time?
“Ye said yer father thought yer mother was taken back to this time?”
Rhys nodded. “Yes, he was convinced she wouldn’t have come back here willingly, given she had been in our time for so long and had the four of us and my dad. I think he’s probably right.”
Maggie’s pulse was racing. It didn’t seem real to be having this conversation with him. But it was real, and if she was going to help him, she needed to know more. “What do ye think happened?”
“I don’t totally know,” Rhys said slowly, “but I found a journal—sort of like a scroll, I guess?—where my mom wrote down what happened the day she was sent to the future.” Rhys had been speaking in a hushed tone, but he paused and glanced around. Maggie found herself doing the same. Conversations were going on all around them, and she did not note anything out of the ordinary, except for the fact that Dermot was still standing in a far corner, his gaze on them.
“Let’s take this conversation to our room,” Rhys said, and she turned quickly to face him, shocked by his words. He was looking beyond her to Dermot, she suspected. His brow furrowed. “I don’t like how he’s watching us.”
