"Crocker Loch handles the cooking and many other tasks," Gavin explained.
"Nice to meet you too." She felt compelled to bow or curtsy in return but knew that would be a faux pas in this time period.
"Welcome to my high table, m'lady." Gavin pulled out a high-backed chair for her.
"Thanks." She dropped onto the hard wooden seat. "So, I'm to be calledm'lady?"
Gavin took the chair next to hers. "Aye. When you become my wife, you will be Lady MacTavish."
"Okay."Ifshe did marry him. The decision still hovered in the air. Right now, she was more concerned about devouring some food that tasted halfway decent. She eyed what she assumed was stew in a bread bowl. It smelled amazing, and her stomach ached from hunger.
"Crocker, if you would honor us with grace." Gavin motioned.
"Aye, m'laird." The cook bowed his head and launched into one of the longest prayers she had ever heard. He asked for blessings on each person, place, or thing of the whole clan. And especially for her, Gavin's beautiful future bride, whom God had sent to restore everything to its former glory. She felt humbled they put so much hope and trust in her. Their confidence had to be misplaced, didn't it? How could she possibly help that much? She didn't know the details of the curse, much less how to make it go away. Gavin had been vague about it.
"Amen," Crocker said at long last, before his footsteps pattered away.
She lifted her head, her eyes burning with a mist of tears as she opened them. What was wrong with her? She wasn't getting emotional about Gavin and his almost extinct clan, was she? Well, maybe so. She sympathized with any family in trouble.
"Enjoy your meal." Gavin motioned to her bowl, then picked up his tarnished silver spoon to dig in.
She took a small tentative bite at first. "Mmm." Far better than anything she had been served so far. Eating a bigger bite, she savored the delicious herbal taste of the hearty stew—thyme—and a bit of onion. Nothing overwhelming. It also contained carrots, peas, and medium-colored meat. It didn't look like beef or venison. Hmmm, mystery meat. She hoped it was chicken or pork. Famished, she only cared about the yummy flavor at the moment.
She broke off chunks of the crust-less brown bread and dipped it into the stew, not caring if Gavin thought her an ill-mannered pig.
While chewing, she took a closer look at the antique silver spoon in her hand. It reminded her of a soup spoon but with an odd shape. It didn't quite fit her mouth. Flowers decorated the slender handle.
"They will not allow me to say grace," Gavin murmured.
"Why not?"
"In case I am possessed by some evil demon." He winked.
Was he hurt by that or amused? She could not yet read him well. "That's ridiculous. You're not possessed."
He gave a faint grin. "I appreciate that. It bodes well for our upcoming marriage."
Her stomach knotted with a fit of nerves. She probably shouldn't have gobbled her food. "About that… when would the wedding take place?"
"As soon as Ewan returns with Father John."
"Will a priest come here, thinking you're evil?"
Gavin drank from a scarred and tarnished silver goblet then set it down. "Depends. He may enjoy performing exorcisms. Or 'haps I will have to make a generous donation." He shrugged. "Most of the clergymen travel around. It could be a few days before Ewan brings him here."
Oh, good. She could relax a little and get her bearings. And enjoy this stew. She picked up her own goblet and sniffed. Wine? She tried a sip. Not bad. At least it tasted better than the ale the cook had sent to her earlier.
To make conversation, she asked, "Is this lamb stew? Or chicken?"
Gavin shook his head. "Rabbit."
"What!" She put down her spoon.
"What's wrong?" He frowned. "'Tis fresh. I hunted it myself this day."
She sniffed the stew. It still smelled delicious. "I've never eaten rabbit before."
He shook his head. "You are indeed a strange lass, so I'm nay surprised. Do you like it?"
