Fires blazed in the twin hearths, spreading warmth throughout the room. Logs of applewood and pine crackled in the grate, their sharp, rich scents mingling with the smell of slow-burning beeswax, and the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meats.
A steady buzz of animated conversation and laughter arose from the packed benches where his clansfolk cheerfully partook of the sumptuous meal, their spirits warmed by as much ale and cider as they could drink. Strains of gentle harp music wound through the human commotion, adding to the convivial atmosphere. An army of servants bustled between the tables, laden with platters of food and jugs full of ale and cider.
Malcolm nodded to himself, satisfied that despite the air of uncertainty and danger surrounding his keep—and his heart—he had nonetheless laid on a warm welcome for his important guests.
But that was the only satisfaction he was capable of feeling at that moment. Because Laird Kenneth Forbes was seated beside Catriona and was having the effrontery to try to flirt with her. And though he maintained the affable smile of a host, Malcolm hated it.
He grudgingly acknowledged that Kenneth Forbes was handsome in a polished sort of way. Cleanshaven, with pale blue eyes, sandy blond hair neatly tied back, his clothes were far finer than most Highland lairds favored. Malcolm recognized him for what he was, a charming courtier, a keen politicker, always looking for ways to expand his wealth and power. A fine match for any noble lass.
But the man smiled too easily and spoke too smoothly for his liking.
Plus he had spent nearly the entire meal focusing his attention to Catriona. Which meant that, while he made efforts to make it appear otherwise, almost all of Malcolm’s attention was focused on them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“But Lady Catriona, surely the nuns at Pluscarden Priory must have been dull company fer a woman such as yersel’,” Kenneth was saying in a honeyed voice, his words accompanied by a smile.
The look in the man’s eyes made Malcolm grind his teeth.
Catriona, looking like a queen in a gown of willow green that set off her coppery hair to perfection, smiled at Kenneth politely.
“Och, nae at all, me laird. The nuns are wonderful people, and the priory is a very peaceful place tae live.”
“I’m sure it is, but d’ye nae find that peace grows tedious after a while?” Kenneth asked, leaning slightly closer. “I imagine many men would gladly risk a war tae rescue a beauty such as ye from such a place.”
Malcolm’s grip tightened around his goblet as jealousy lanced through him. Glancing across the table, he saw Ewan had noticed his discomfiture and was clearly enjoying it, hiding a grin behind his tankard.
Worse, he realized from her smiling glance his way that Catriona had noticed as well, for he saw a glint of humor in her eyes. He was only very slightly mollified when she dipped her eyes and answered Kenneth’s flirtatious remark with matter-of-factly humility.
“I fear ye overestimate me charms, me laird.”
“Och, I have tae take issue with ye there, Lady Catriona,” Kenneth replied smoothly. “If anythin’, I’d say I underestimate them.”
Malcolm’s jaw flexed.
“Kenneth,” he said evenly, “ye’ll frighten the lass away entirely if ye continue flatterin’ her so relentlessly.”
Kenneth laughed easily and leaned back in his chair. “Forgive me. I‘m only sayin’ what I see.”
Beside him, Sorcha Forbes rolled her bright blue eyes. “Pay him nay mind,” she told Catriona. “He’s an incorrigible flirt.”
Kenneth placed a dramatic hand against his chest in mock offence. “That is a cruel slander, Sister.”
Sorcha ignored him completely and turned back to Catriona with interest. “Catriona, I’ve heard that ye used tae work in the priory infirmary. Is that right?”
Malcolm saw relief in Catriona’s eyes at the change of subject to one she enjoyed talking about. She nodded and smiled at Sorcha, a comely lass with chestnut hair and blue eyes.
“Aye, I did,” she replied.
Sorcha’s face brightened. “Then ye’ve knowledge of healin’ herbs?”
“A fair amount, aye.”
“Och, thank God,” Sorcha sighed theatrically. “At last, someone I can have a proper conversation with. If I havetae endure another endless discussion of cattle and land and fightin’, I think I’ll go mad.”
Catriona laughed, flashing an amused look Malcom’s way. “Well, I’m glad ye feel that way, Sorcha. I’ll happily talk about herbs and healin’ until the cows come home, but I havenae had the chance much lately.”
Sorcha’s face lit up with genuine curiosity as she leaned closer. “Tell me, Catriona, what remedies did the sisters favor fer curin’ a fever?”
