Lifting to her tiptoes, she tilted her face toward his. Taking the hint she was hoping for, he leaned down and kissed her. He was not a bad kisser but he was not Farquar. She drew away like a shy lass and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. You must think me scandalous," she whispered.
"Nay. I think you are a lovely and sweet lady," he murmured.
"And you are a gentleman. I don't wish to give you the wrong idea. I simply… wanted to spend some time with you, getting to know you better. 'Tis too difficult in the great hall with so many people around."
"I agree."
"Let's sit." Taking his hand, she led him toward the settle by the fire where they sat side by side. She was not desperate enough to sleep with him… yet. Mayhap she could draw the information from him before extreme measures were called for. "Would you like some wine?" she asked, pouring a goblet.
"Oh, aye, that would be nice."
She handed him the first goblet, then filled her own. "Tell me what it was like growing up in your village," she said.
He droned on and on about his childhood and youth, his main focus on studying piping. He stopped now and then to drink the wine. A half hour later, she could hardly keep her eyes open, but forced herself to while she sipped her wine, smiled and nodded at the appropriate times.
She refilled their goblets. "And when did you meet up with the other musicians?"
After guzzling the wine, he spoke of Eli, Harriet and Jules and how happy he was to join them, for they were like family.
Finally, the opening Constance had been waiting for appeared. "And when did Anna Douglas join your group?"
"In Edinburgh, probably two years ago. She approached us in a coaching inn where we'd been playing. She said she could sing and wondered if she might travel with us. Once we heard her, we could hardly believe it."
"Aye, she does have a lovely voice."
Vardon nodded. "Indeed, the best I've ever heard. Naturally, we all wanted her to join our group for we thought we could ask for better pay."
Constance ground her teeth, well and truly sick of hearing how amazing Anna's voice was. "Where was she from and why did she simply appear out of nowhere? She doesn't seem like a peasant."
"Oh, nay, indeed." Vardon smiled, then lowered his voice. "I'll tell you a secret if you promise to tell no one."
Her heartbeat accelerating and excitement buzzing along her nerve endings, she scooted closer to him. "Of course I won't tell anyone. I'll keep everything you say a complete secret."
"Well… you're right. She's no peasant, but a lady, in truth. A week or two after we met her, and we were still in Edinburgh, a man approached me—the henchman for a Highland chief. He showed me a small portrait, a very fine painting of a beautiful woman. 'Twas Anna. But the man called her Susanna. He said she was the wife of the MacCromar chief from near Inverness."
"Is he dead now? Everyone says she is a widow."
"She told us she was a widow when first we met her, a week or two before they were searching for her. I didn't let on like I'd seen her. I talked to Eli about it and we figured if she'd run away from her husband, she had good reason. Mayhap he was abusive. She is a kind woman and I would hate to see anyone mistreat her."
"I see what you mean. I would feel the same way," Constance said in a compassionate tone, that she hoped fooled Vardon. "Poor lady, giving up life in a castle. She must've had a terrible life back there." And Constance wanted to be sure Anna returned to her terrible life, far from Neacal. She would have one of her own guards deliver a missive to the MacCromar chief.
***
During the next week, Neacal and Matthew made two lists of names—one for the possible traitors and one for those who appeared loyal to Neacal. During that time, he forced himself to stay away from Anna, but he did think of her near every minute. What was she doing? Did she remember the kiss with fondness? Of a certainty, he did. At night when he was alone, he could think of little else.
Once each day, he asked Tavia for an update on Anna's burn and bruises. With a knowing smile, the healer told him Anna was much better. He didn't mind if Tavia knew he cared more than he should about the lass.
During supper that evening, Neacal was again distracted by Anna as she ate at one of the lower tables. How he wished he could pull her aside, into the library or some private room and have a simple conversation with her or… 'haps even steal a kiss.
Nay, that would be madness. Even so, he could think of little else.
One of the guards named Forbes hastened across the great hall toward him, drawing his attention. He stopped in front of the high table. "The MacRurys have arrived by galley, m'laird."
"Indeed?" Neacal asked. What the devil were they doing here? Did the chief have some business to discuss? Chief MacRury was the age of Neacal's father, and they had met several years before. He arose from his seat and proceeded across the great hall.
"Several ladies are with the chief," Forbes said.
"Ladies?" Sudden realization struck Neacal and he halted, glaring back at Uncle Bhatar and Sir Hugh, sitting at the high table. Bhatar pretended to focus on eating, while Hugh gave a smug grin. Fury struck Neacal like lightning.
