Adaira clapped her hands together. “Now then,” she said brightly, gesturing towards the table with a flourish of her arm. “Let us dine!”
She guided Conall and Molly to their seats at the circular table. Conall sat next to his father, while Molly was in between Conall and Adaira. The warm glow of the candlelight lit up the room, making it feel small and intimate. A fire crackled softly in the corner, creating a cozy atmosphere as platters of food were brought out and placed on the table by a trio of servants.
Conall and his father said not a word as the meal was served. Nor did they look at each other and Lady Adaira occupied herself with chatting to the servants. When they departed, she poured wine for everyone and then lifted her goblet.
“You must all try this,” she said with a smile. “Italy’s finest, or so the merchants assure me. Even the king doesn’t have any finer!”
“Is that where you’ve been, my lady?” Conall asked quietly. “Sourcing fine wines for my father’s table?”
His tone was acerbic and Adaira shared a quick, uncomfortable look with Conall’s father. Before anyone could speak, Molly took a big gulp and then smacked her lips appreciatively. “That’s delicious.”
Adaira smiled. “Isn’t it? I’ve been trying to educate my husband for years on the delights of fine wines. He refuses to be civilized though, and will insist on sticking to his ale and whisky.”
Earl Sinclair frowned. “Adaira,” he warned, in a low voice.
Adaira ignored her husband. Leaning forward, with her fingers curled around the stem of her goblet, she fixed Molly with bright eyes. “So, Molly. How did you come to be in the company of my stepson?”
“She works for the Order of the Osprey,” Earl Sinclair growled. “Just like he does.”
“Oh,” Adaira replied, sounding slightly disappointed. “I see.” Then she brightened. “Tell me all about you, Molly. Where are you from? What clan do you hail from?”
Molly stammered answers as best she could, keeping as close to the truth as possible whilst revealing nothing about her time-traveling origins. Adaira’s conversation was light and friendly and she laughed often. Molly felt herself warming to the older woman.
If she could have forgotten the glowering presence of Conall and his father, she might even have begun to enjoy herself. But she couldn’t forget the two men that sat on the opposite side of the table, one knocking back wine like there was no tomorrow, the other sitting stiff-backed and tense, touching not a drop. The atmosphere between the two men was as warm as a winter gale.
Her gaze slid to Earl Sinclair. He was not stiff-backed like Conall but had slid down in his seat and clutched a wine goblet to his chest like a drowning man clinging to a line. He looked tense but not in the same way as Conall. Instead of seeming angry, he seemed...tired. The only time his dour expression changed was when he looked at his wife. Then his expression softened and something warm flashed in his eyes and a faint smile curled his mouth. It made him look years younger.
This too, was not what she’d expected. From what Conall had told her, his father had divorced his mother and then married Adaira for political gain, a cold, calculated business decision. But that’s not what Molly saw in his eyes when he glanced at his wife.
Molly couldn’t help but wonder what was really going on beneath the surface of this family. She had walked into a web of secrets and lies, and she didn’t know how to untangle them.
As the meal progressed, Molly tried to keep the conversation light and casual, hoping to ease the palpable tension in the room. Lady Adaira was happy to oblige, chatting amiably with Molly about everything from her childhood in England to her travels as Lady of the Pinnacle. Earl Sinclair listened intently but didn’t say much, nursing his wine as though it was the only thing keeping him anchored to the present.
Conall remained tense and silent throughout the meal. He ate mechanically, as though he were afraid to let his guard down even for a minute. Now and then, he would glance at his father with a look that was equal parts resentment and frustration.
Don’t say anything,Molly willed him.Not here. Not now.
As dessert was served—something that looked like bread and butter pudding—Lady Adaira leaned back in her chair, a contented smile on her face. “That was a lovely meal,” she said, patting her stomach. “I do so love a good feast.”
Earl Sinclair nodded in agreement but said nothing. Conall pushed his plate away with a scowl, clearly impatient to be finished with the entire ordeal. Molly took a small bite of the pudding.
Suddenly, Conall’s voice cut through the silence. “Where have ye been these past few days, Stepmother?” he asked, his eyes blazing with accusation. “Have ye been preparing for the arrival of father’s special guest?”
The atmosphere in the room went up a notch. Lady Adaira stared at Conall with a mixture of surprise and annoyance before giving him a small smile.
“Why yes, I have,” she said calmly. “You know how much I love making guests feel welcome.”
“Oh. And who is this special guest who warrants so much attention from the lady of the keep?” Conall asked, pressing the issue.
Molly tensed as Earl Sinclair set his wine goblet down with a sharp clink. “That is none of yer business,” he snapped.
Conall’s eyes narrowed as he stared at his father, silently challenging him. For a moment, Molly thought Conall would press further and demand an answer, but he cocked his head as if thinking. “I’ve noticed something, Father,” he said. “The other day, whilst attending yer meetings, I took a look at the books. The garrison seems under-manned and there are ships missing from the roster. Why is that?”
The earl turned his considerable glare on his son. “What business is that of yers?”
“Call it idle curiosity.”
“I call it sticking yer nose where it doesnae belong! Ye gave up any right to ask questions about my affairs the day ye walked out of here.”
