Page 21 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
He was facing enough of a challenge with the temptation of her full bosom, for her small frame, especially seated, put those ripe breasts just above the table. Lady Grace possessed soft, supple flesh that he wouldn’t have minded tasting, as his appetite for that was far greater than his hunger for dinner.
“I’ll have to bid Ellie goodnight on my way to bed,” Grace said, delicately plucking up a piece of venison and setting it on her plate. Potatoes and carrots followed, with a generous helping of pheasant and some buttered cabbage, all finished off with a dainty drizzle of blackberry sauce.
Hunter found himself enraptured and licking his lips as she dug into her meal. It was mesmerizing to watch her gather a bit of everything onto the fork before she popped it into her mouth. The tines slid between her lips, allowing a tiny droplet of sauce to escape.
It took all his willpower not to reach across the table and brush that droplet away with his thumb before tasting it himself.
Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, she took her napkin and dabbed her lips with it, soaking up that little bit of sauce. Her eyes peered up at him again, then her eyebrows rose in slight surprise, like she hadn’t expected him to be observing her.
And I shouldnae be.
He looked away casually, concentrating on his food.
Soon enough, there was nothing but the scrape of cutlery on the plates. The silence grew thick with discomfort. Not his, but it radiated from the three women like a brazier.
Even Thomas didn’t seem to know what to say, as he swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of the plentiful feast, washing it down with far too much ale, occasionally glancing at Hunter as if to say,Come on, Braither. Speak! Put me out of me misery.
Across the table, the redheaded woman with the spectacles cleared her throat. “Well, this is delicious.” She smiled stiffly. “Having never had a real Scottish dinner before, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“What did ye expect, Lady Madeleine?” Thomas asked, while Hunter didn’t even look at the woman.
Madeleine shrugged, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “I don’t know. Perhaps I was expecting something strange, like what I might find if I were on the Continent. In France and Spain, I hear they devour snails. And not some special kind ofsnails that are only for eating, but the sort you find in the garden, ruining your vegetables, leaving those awful trails everywhere.”
“They do not!” the other woman, Lilian, shrieked. “Goodness, you shall put me off my dinner.”
Grace pulled a face. “Snails? Truly? How disgusting!”
Chewing a mouthful of soft meat, Hunter discreetly observed the three women, who seemed determined to look everywhere but at him.
Had it been just one of them avoiding his gaze, he’d have understood, but there was something suspicious about all three pulling exactly the same face, adoptingexactlythe same tone. More to the point, Grace had flushed adeepred, and her demeanor became somewhat flustered.
“I don’t know if they eat them straight from the shell or if they are cooked, but can you imagine?” Madeleine pressed, staring at Grace with a sudden intensity. “I doubt there is anything in the world that could make them taste good, and I won’t believe anyone who says otherwise.”
Grace nodded slowly. “And they are so… sticky!” Her voice was oddly tight as her green eyes flitted to Hunter. “All I can imagine is some poor soul grabbing them from the cabbage patch and sucking them out of the shell. If I had to eat such a thing, I’d probably… um… I’d… well, I’d be very unwell and probably make a face like this.”
She pulled an expression more alarming than before, her face contorting as if she’d tasted something intensely sour. Her eyes squinted, her lips puckered, and her nose scrunched up as she made an odd, slurping sound.
Hunter observed her blankly, uncertain of what was going on. Did she think Ellie was hiding somewhere in the room and wanted to coax her out by making her laugh? Was this some manner of English entertainment that he wasn’t aware of? Had the ladies had a tipple before coming down for dinner? Whatever the cause, he had no idea how he was meant to react, so he didn’t.
“It’s fortunate I didnae have the cook serve haggis then,” he said flatly, returning his attention to his dinner.
“Haggis?” Grace asked, breathing rather hard.
He glanced up. “All the innards chopped up and stuffed into a lamb’s stomach with some oats and whatever else ye might want, then boiled.”
“Delicious,” Thomas chimed in, flashing a wink at the ladies.
Grace and Lilian sat there horrified, their eyes wide and their mouths agape, while Madeleine quirked an eyebrow and mumbled something under her breath that might have been “interesting.” Nevertheless, a moment later, all three seemed disappointed as Hunter began to cut into his venison.
The silence returned as thick as morning fog.
Did they wantScottish delicacies?
Hunter glanced at the feast, wondering if he ought to ask the cook to prepare something different for tomorrow’s dinner.
Still reeling from the idea of haggis, Grace could have kicked herself for thinking it would be so easy to disgust Hunter. He was a warrior who had been fighting on battlefields for years.
Of course, something as simple as eating snails wouldn’t disgust him. He’d likely seen things—and perhaps eaten things—that she couldn’t even fathom. Things that would turn a lady’s stomach wouldn’t even make himflinch.
