Page 13 of Sadie's Highlander (Highland Protector 1)

Embarrassment flushed hot through him. What the hell had he been thinkin’ when he’d proposed their first meal together should be with his family?

“Forgive me.” He dipped his chin at Sadie. “I meant no insult or disrespect.”But dammit t’hell, I have good reason to ask.Filling his own bowl, he avoided Sadie’s gaze. “It just seems that every damn woman in this century is no’ happy unless she looks like a starved waif just off the ships after the Highland clearances. I fail to understand why they wish to look like nothin’ more than skin-covered bones.”

Sadie frowned as she scooped up a spoonful of the steaming creaminess, pursed her lips, and blew on it. She stared at the fluffy dumpling balanced in her spoon, then shifted her attention to Alec, bitterness reflecting in the depths of her dark eyes. “It’s the curse of society’s idea of the ‘beautiful’ woman. Everywhere you look—magazines, television, movies, internet—females are blasted with unrealistic images that are labeled as perfection and we’re bullied and shamed if we don’t mimic—or at least attempt to look like—all that photoshopped bullshit.”

She popped the dumpling in her mouth and licked her spoon clean with a shrug of one shoulder. “I’ve never fit that bill and I gave up trying a long time ago.” She patted her curvy hip. “I like to eat. I know I’m a big girl and extra curvy, but I’m healthy, and I’ll be damned if I make myself miserable by living on celery, carrot sticks, and distilled water.”

“Well stated, m’dear!” Sarinda raised her glass with a pleased nod.

“Yer a lovely woman and there’s no’ a thing about ye that should be changed.” Alec reached across the table and rested his fingertips lightly on the back of Sadie’s hand. The soft silkiness of her skin didna escape him. He spread his hand across hers, glorying in the inviting warmth of her as he finished the awkward apology. “Forgive me if m’words offended or made ye feel ill at ease. Please ken that I meant ye no harm or disrespect.”

His heart fell as Sadie slid her hand out from under his.Dammit.This was no’ going well at all.Me and my ill-chosen words.But then Sadie placed her hand atop his and squeezed. “You didn’t offend me. You’ve been nothing but kind.”

Alec flipped his hand before she could move, laced his fingers with hers, and returned the squeeze.

Miss Lydia placed a platter of sliced barbecued brisket, still steaming and smothered in what smelled to be her homemade spicy sauce, on the far side of the soup tureen. She plopped a basket of sliced hard rolls down beside the brisket, then stepped back and examined the spread. “That should hold y’all ’til suppertime.” She pursed her lips and turned her attention to Alec, the focus of her glare targeting his hand that still held tight to Sadie’s. “Are you gonna let loose of her hand so she can eat while the food’s hot or are you just gonna sit there like a bump on a log and make moon eyes at her?”

“I advise ye t’leave off, Mistress Lydia.”Hell’s demons and dragon scat!Why in blazes was the old woman bent on shaming him worse than usual today? Alec reluctantly released Sadie’s hand after one last squeeze. “My apologies. Again.”

Sadie quietly chuckled as she returned her attention to the still steaming bowl of dumplings. Between spoonfuls, her gaze flitted about the table. “Are your brothers and father not joining us? Ramsay…or maybe it was Ross—sorry, I’m terrible with names. Anyway, one of your brothers brought me as far as the staircase but then hurried off in the other direction.”

“Emrys isna feelin’ well. He’s retired to his quarters for the remainder of the day,” Dwyn said as he reached for a roll, slid a slice of brisket into the bun, then placed it on the plate in front of him with an elaborate flourish of his long, thin fingers. He added sliced tomatoes, bread-and-butter pickles, and spicy slaw to his plate, then rubbed his hands together with the excited look of an artist about to build a masterpiece. “The lads decided to eat in town. They thought it might be best if ye got to know the MacDara clan in small doses.”

Alec heartily agreed with that line of thinkin’. ’Twas difficult enough to get to know Sadie better with Mistress Lydia andMáthairpeckin’ at him like a pair of starving hens. If his brothers were here, they’d no’ offer him any easier a time of it.

“I’m sorry to hear Mr. MacDara isn’t doing well.” Sadie helped herself to the brisket and rolls, then dipped the sandwich in the creamy broth of the chicken and dumplings and took a bite. She hurried to dab the drippings from her chin with the cloth napkin. Tucking the cloth back into her lap, she shrugged a slightly embarrassed smile at Alec.

As far as he was concerned, the fine lass had nothin’ t’be embarrassed about. It did his heart good t’see a woman enjoy her food rather than sit staring at her empty plate like an underfed dog whilst everyone else ate their meal. Perhaps Mistress Sadie could bring about a change in Esme’s way of thinkin’.

Lightly clearing her throat as she nervously dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, Sadie turned to Dwyn. “I hope Mr. MacDara’s condition isn’t serious. My stay here and the projected filming hasn’t overly upset him, has it?”

“Emrys will be just fine, dear,” Sarinda said. “As he grows older, he’s havin’ more trouble keeping the events of the past back where they belong. My poor Emrys has no’ had an easy life. When he grows o’erly upset these days, he tends t’relive his battles from long ago.” Sarinda drew in a deep breath and sadly shook her head. “He’s witnessed many a harshness o’er his lifetime and now canna seem to escape the dreadful memories.”

“PTSD,” Sadie said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Beg pardon?” Alec asked. “What is this PTSD?” He wasna familiar with that term, even though he prided himself on having acclimated to this time—well, acclimated to the oddities as much as was possible—over the past fifteen years.

Dwyn had done his best to guide and teach the MacDaras all they needed to know to not only survive in the twenty-first century but also to thrive. The demigod had accomplished the task well, but Alec still never felt as though he really belonged here. At least not until now.

“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Sadie said. “It sometimes happens to those who’ve experienced more than any human should have to endure. Their past haunts them—reaches into their present and torments them as though everything is happening all over again.”

Every fiber in Alec’s being relaxed. She understood. Even without knowing the extent of the MacDara family history, Sadie understood—and didna appear to damn them for it.She’s a fine woman, she is. And she fits in well here.The strangest warm feeling blossomed in the center of his chest—a not unpleasant feeling, but one Alec had never felt before. The day suddenly brimmed with possibilities.

“Aye. PTSD troublesAthair.But dinna fash, after a night of rest assisted by Mistress Lydia’s tonic, he’ll be right as rain by the morrow.” Alec set his silverware aside. He didna want food. He wanted time with Sadie. Private time. The memory of thealmostkiss made him wish he’d worn his kilt rather than the heavily seamed work jeans. He shifted in the chair.Damn these trews.They had a stranglehold on his man parts.

Sadie perked with interest. “What kind of tonic? An old herbal remedy maybe? I read where the shops here at the park are well stocked with quite the selection of homeopathic herbs and oils. I’ve always been interested in the old remedies.”

Miss Lydia waved away her words. “Nothin’ as fancy as all that.” She toddled over to the kitchen cabinet and drew down a sealed canning jar over half full of an almost clear liquid. “My brother’s best batch this year.” She smiled and winked. “Nothin’ cures what ails you better than a healthy snort of white lightnin’ laced with honey and lemon.”

“Moonshine?” Sadie’s eyes rounded and she slowly lowered her spoon to her plate. “Isn’t that illegal?”

With a disinterested shrug, Miss Lydia slid the jar back up onto the top shelf of the cabinet and tightly closed the door. “Only if you sell it—or get caught.”

May the gods have mercy on my soul.Alec closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose whilst praying for divine guidance. He pulled in a deep breath, scooted back from the table, and stood. “If ye’ve had yer fill, we’ve plenty of time to stroll through the main area of the park this afternoon. Tomorrow, I’ll take ye to the outer borders, where ye will be better able t’see the entirety of our land and where the filming may and may not be permitted.”

A promising idea came to mind as he noticed the amount of brisket left on the platter still sitting in the center of the dinner table. ’Twas the perfect amount for a packed lunch for two.

“Mistress Lydia, would ye please prepare a food basket for m’self and Mistress Sadie and have it waiting in the walk-in larder in the mornin’? According to the weather forecasters, tomorrow looks t’be a fine day for a picnic on the bluff overlooking the river.” He turned to Sadie. “We’ll leave first thing after breakfast. Aye? I assume ye do ride?”

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