Mary’s mouth worked as if to argue then softened. “Then ye’ll need courage more than silk. But wear the blue lass. Folks warm quicker to a woman who doesnae look as though she’s stepped out of a kirk painting.”
Scarlett laughed under her breath. “The blue, then.”
By the time the bell rang, her nerves thrummed. She followed Mary down the passage, the din of voices swelling with each step. At the tall oak doors, Mary stopped. “Ye’ll be fine,” she said, squeezing Scarlett’s hand. “Go on.”
Scarlett swallowed, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside.
The hall was alive with noise and warmth. The smell of roasted meat and buttered bread clung to the air. Laughter spilled from one side, mugs clattered on another. Men crowded the trestle tables, talking over one another with the ease of kin.
Scarlett lingered at the edge, her heart drumming as heads began to turn. Conversations dipped. One by one, faces swung toward her.
“Me Lady,” an older man greeted with a nod.
“Ye honor us tonight,” another called, grinning wide.
Scarlett offered polite smiles, lifting her chin, though her palms were damp against her skirts. Each step forward sent her pulse quicker.
Then Mack Little, planted in the middle of a bench, raised his mug high. “Good to see ye at table, Me Lady! We thought ye meant to hide away forever.”
The men around him chuckled.
Scarlett arched a brow. “Would ye rather I had left ye to yer drink in peace?”
“Nay, never,” Mack shot back, wagging a finger. “Drink’s sweeter when a lady graces the hall.”
“Flatterer,” someone muttered, sparking another round of laughter.
Scarlett’s lips tugged in amusement as she passed, the knot in her chest easing just a fraction.
At the high table, Robert sat already, broad and unyielding, a tankard loose in his hand. He didn’t rise or beckon, but his eyes followed her every step. The weight of it prickled her skin.
Scarlett had the room measured before she reached the center of the hall. She knew where the elders sat, which shadows held the guards, and exactly which bench fell into Robert’s peripheral vision without forcing her to sit beside him.
Then Mack shattered her plan.
The chair next to him scraped back with a shrill, metallic screech that cut through the morning chatter.
"Here, Me Lady!" he called, grinning as he patted the seat. "Sit with me. I’d be honored."
Scarlett froze mid-step, caught between the empty chair Mack offered and the unreadable gaze of her husband. She dared a glance at Robert, only to find him staring at Mack as though he’d gut him for the insult.
Her stomach flipped.
Ah. So the Laird doesnae like to share.
Scarlett’s chin tipped higher. She turned back to Mack with a smile. “Thank ye, Master Little. I’ll gladly sit here.”
The scrape of the bench echoed as she lowered herself beside him. The air seemed to thicken, Robert’s fury rolling across the high table though he never moved. Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek to hide the thrill of it.
Mack leaned toward her at once, eager. “Ye’ll forgive me running on, Me Lady, but I’ve rarely an ear that isnae half drunk. Truth is, me house has seen nothing but misfortune this past year.”
Scarlett tore a piece of bread, schooling her face. “Oh? Misfortune?” “Aye.” Mack launched into it, hands flying. “First, two of our best
cows keeled over from some rot. Then, heavy snow caved in two roofs. And, God save us, me brother’s wife ran off with a tanner from Perth!”
The men near him hooted. Mack only shook his head in disbelief. “A tanner! Can ye credit it?”
Scarlett pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “That does sound… unfortunate.”
