He was nursing a mug of mead and eyeing the ruckus a few tables over, no doubt trying to see if he would need to intervene.
Did he ever just rest?
The only time she had seen him not burdened by his responsibilities was when she had caught him swimming in the loch that morning, and she remembered, unwillingly, the kiss they had shared.
She cleared her throat and eyed him warily, then smiled as an idea came to her mind. Grannie Ava had mentioned he had a sweet tooth, which she had yet to see, but could that only be because he was trying to hide it?
She giggled, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“Alright,” she said once her giggling subsided. “Are you sure you would be able to withstand the temptation of a fresh,sweetblueberry pie?”
“I am positive.”
“Alright,” she said with a naughty smile, before calling over one of the maids.
“What would ye like, miss?” the maid asked.
“I would like alargeblueberry pie,” Violet answered. “With a lot of heavy cream.”
She saw Ruaridh swallow hard out of the corner of her eye and smiled. When the maid left, she turned back to him.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a slice of pie, my Laird?” she asked. “The girl hasn’t gone very far.”
“I am sure,” he gritted out.
“Hmm,” she said. “Grannie Ava mentioned you had a penchant for sweet things. Are you perhaps afraid I’ll judge you for indulging your appetites?”
He glared at her but said nothing.
She said nothing, not until the maid brought her pie and placed it in front of her.
“That will be all. Thank you.”
The maid left after bobbing a curtsy.
Yes, indeed. She was right to have asked for the pie. Her mouth watered just looking at it, but before digging in, she had to ensure she tortured Ruaridh well enough.
“I assure you, my Laird, you wouldn’t look any less fierce for eating a slice of pie.” Her words were said slowly as she dug her fork in, making sure to keep her movements as ostentatious as possible.
When she had a good bite topped with cream, she brought it to her mouth. The moan that escaped her was more real than for show.
That is a bloody good pie.
She opened her eyes and saw Ruaridh’s knuckles had gone white from how hard he fisted his hands on the table. She didn’t understand how someone could torture himself so much, but it provided her good entertainment, so she couldn’t complain.
She cut another bite, topped with an even larger dollop of cream, and extended it towards him, feeling rather pleased with her evil scheme.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a taste of this yummy pie?” she asked. “I assure you it tastes better than?—”
“Just give me the bloody pie!” he growled, taking the fork from her.
She watched open-mouthed as he ate the bite and took one look at her before snatching another from her plate.
“Would you mind not finishing my pie?” she complained, though she didn’t mean it.
The sight of him eating with the same fork she had used had her face flushing, and she wondered if anyone had seen them.
He handed the fork back to her, and she continued eating in silence.
