“How would ye evenknowhow to throw an ax?” Maria asked.
“I’ve done it before,” Anna replied. “We went on this work team-building thing. Ax throwing. They’ve got a place in town and there are drinks thrown in. I won. Even beatSteve from HR and he thinks he’s God’s gift at sports.” She fell silent abruptly at their surprised expressions. “Or...maybe not. Maybe I’ll just watch.”
Anna felt her cheeks heat. She’d done it again; rambling because she was nervous and giving away far more than she should.You and your big mouth!
“Oh no, dinna ye dare back away now,” said Maria, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I’ve never heard of such a thing as a woman partaking in the games, and it sounds like quite the spectacle.”
Hildie coughed uncomfortably. “Lady Maria, Anna was simply jesting. She’s full of such outlandish ideas.”
Maria’s gaze sharpened as she looked at Anna. “Is she now?” she said softly. “I wonder why that is.”
Anna gave a nervous little laugh. “Glaswegians eh? We’re a strange bunch.”
Maria leant back in her chair, still eyeing Anna. “I must admit, Anna,” she began. “Ye are unlike any lass I’ve met before.” She paused, sipping on her ale. “Yer words and behaviors are... peculiar.”
Anna felt a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead. “As I said, Lady Maria, we Glaswegians are a strange bunch.”
Maria smiled again. “Indeed ye are. But tell me,” she leaned in closer to Anna across the table, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. “Why is it that ye talk about places and things that none of us have ever heard of? What is this ‘work team-building thing’ ye speak of? And what is this place where women can throw axes and drink? Is this customary in Glasgow?”
Anna hesitated, fumbling for an answer. “Well, every place has its own... customs,” she said slowly, trying to come up with something plausible. “And I suppose mine might seem a bit strange to people from other places.”
Maria stared at her for a moment, unblinking. Her blue eyes which had seemed so light only moments ago, suddenly seemed dark and calculating. For a reason she couldn’t quite fathom, Irene MacAskill’s face flashed into Anna’s head as though Maria suddenly reminded her of the old woman although she had no idea why that might be.
Maria laughed lightly, breaking the tension. “Ah, ye have me there, Anna,” she said, raising her goblet. “We all have our peculiarities, do we not? I suppose that’s what makes life so interesting. I look forward to seeing ye take on the men in the ax throwing.”
Anna let out a shaky breath and joined in the toast. She noticed, however, the way Maria’s eyes never left hers.
Oh hell, she thought.What has my big mouth gotten me into this time?
EMERIC BARELY TASTEDthe food he put into his mouth. He ate only to keep up the facade of politeness, the thin veneer of civility that had descended on the high table. That veneer was wafer thin and tension was strung between the four men like the strands of some spider’s web.
In truth, Emeric’s stomach was churning so badly he could barely eat anything and he had to force down the oatcake Maisie placed before him. But it wasn’t nerves or fear that was making his stomach boil.
It was anger.
Laird MacDonald and his son Duncan sat at the table with all the ease of lounging predators. They knew the power they held here and they reveled in it.
God above, this was Dun Achmore! This had been the seat of Clan Mackintosh long before the MacDonalds had dragged themselves out of the mud and squalor. And yet the MacDonalds strode in and expected to be treated like royalty.
Gritting his teeth, he did his best to focus on the conversation at the table. It was inane stuff about crops and cattle and the weather, skirting around the real issues between them, one of which was seated not ten paces away, at the women’s table.
His gaze drifted over to his sister. Aislinn was sitting with their mother, Anna, and the laird’s mother-in-law, Lady Maria. She was barely eating either, not immune to the tension in the room which centered around her.
Emeric glanced across the table to Duncan. He was tall like his father with sharp eyes that missed nothing. He had a look about him that suggested he was always alert, always ready for a fight, despite the easy grin that was never far from his lips. He was not joining in the conversation and in fact, seemed to be barely listening at all. Since they’d sat down he’d not stopped staring at Aislinn.
Despite his uncle’s efforts to soothe ruffled feathers, it seemed Duncan MacDonald had not forgotten the insult Aislinn had dealt him when she’d spurned his marriage proposal. Emeric tensed. He’d seen that look on a man’s face before and knew trouble would come of it.
But as he followed the line of Duncan’s gaze, he realized with a start that in fact, Duncan wasn’t staring at Aislinn at all. His stare was fixed on the woman sitting opposite Aislinn.
Anna.
Anna seemed unaware of the scrutiny she was under, caught up in a spirited conversation with Maria. The ladies laughed heartily at Anna’s words, their mirth echoing through the hall.
A twinge of unease settled within him. What was she doing? Hadn’t he warned her to keep a low profile? To say nothing that might give away her origins? She already stood out like a swan among geese. It was more than just her beauty. There was an elusive quality about her that made everyone sit up and take notice.
And it seemed Duncan MacDonald had noticed it too.
Emeric’s protective instincts flared. His grip tightened on his goblet, the cool pewter a stark contrast to the heat boiling within him.
