Page 25 of The Rogue's Bride
The intensity of Darron’s stare took Caitrin aback.
Could it be that the inscrutable Captain MacNichol had gone soft on her hand-maid?
At that moment, as they both watched Sorcha, Boyd MacDonald sauntered up to the lass. The warrior greeted her with a roguish smile. Boyd was a good-looking man and pleasant enough, yet Caitrin found his arrogance grated upon her. However, judging from the blush his greeting brought to Sorcha’s cheeks, the lass didn’t share her mistress’s opinion of him.
Caitrin shifted her attention back to Darron and saw that he’d stiffened, his jaw tightening.
Clearing her throat, Caitrin broke the silence. “There’s no need to stay with me,” she said with a smile. “I’m happy here watching the fire.”
Darron tore his gaze away from where Boyd and Sorcha now laughed together. “I should remain with ye, milady.”
Caitrin clicked her tongue, irritated. “I’m perfectly safe, as ye well know, MacNichol. Now stop fussing and go enjoy yerself.”
Darron frowned. “Very well, milady. But please, come and find me when ye wish to return to the keep.”
“I will.”
Caitrin watched Darron wander off, although she noted he didn’t head in the direction of Sorcha and Boyd.
Caitrin took another bite of Beltane Bannock and chewed slowly.
In the midst of the crowd, she spotted Alasdair MacDonald.
He was surrounded by a few of his men as they drank and laughed. Alasdair appeared to be telling a story. His hands moved expressively and his dark eyes gleamed. One of his men then said something and Alasdair laughed.
The firelight bathed his face and shone upon his long dark hair, which he wore loose this evening. He’d matured into a striking looking man, Caitrin had to admit.
She wasn’t sure what she thought about the MacDonald chieftain these days.
There were moments when Caitrin could believe they were friends again, as they once had been, while at other times she found herself wary of him. A reserve existed between them now. And yet they’d settled into a comfortable working relationship over the last four months. Caitrin saw Alasdair a few times daily, although never alone. She hadn’t joined him for supper in his solar again, and when they did speak, it was usually about factual matters.
Lost in thought, Caitrin continued to observe Alasdair. Another of his men asked him something, and he shook his head. He raised a cup to his lips—and then his gaze lifted, meeting hers.
Caitrin froze.
Mother Mary, he’d caught her staring.
Resisting the urge to tear her gaze away, Caitrin took a deep breath and casually shifted her attention to the fire, as if he was just part of the scene she’d been observing. However, she felt her cheeks warming under the weight of his answering stare.
Raising her cup of ale to her lips, Caitrin took a sip. Nearby, a lass laughed as a young man approached her for a dance.
Seizing the opportunity to look elsewhere, Caitrin focused on the young couple.
The girl was blushing furiously and laughing to cover up her embarrassment. She was small and blonde with a lush figure. The lad who’d approached her stared into her eyes with a look of such naked longing that Caitrin felt heat flush across her chest.
Beltane was a life-affirming evening, a night when the hard-working folk of this isle could cast aside their cares and give themselves up to revelry. Not surprisingly, it was said that many bairns were conceived on this night.
“Enjoying yerself, Lady Caitrin?”
Caitrin yanked her gaze from the couple to see that Alasdair MacDonald now towered over her. She hadn’t even seen him leave his place with the other men and approach her.
Caitrin lifted her chin, angling her face up. She wished she was taller; she felt at a disadvantage every time she had to crane her neck to meet a man’s eye.
“Aye, thank ye,” she murmured. “It’s a fair night.”
“Ye should have brought Eoghan down here.”
Caitrin huffed. “I will when he’s a little older. He’s getting too big to carry.” It was true, the lad was growing like a weed and now that he could crawl everywhere and had started to pull himself up onto furniture, he was into everything. “Old Lachina is with Eoghan tonight. I hope he behaves himself.”
