Page 117 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

The venison was indeed delicious and tender, but he grew annoyed at the herbs and garlic, for the strong scent drowned out Elsea's delicate sweet fragrance. He found himself tempted to bury his nose against her throat. He was a daft goat.

Over the past day or two, he had been consuming so much haggis and black pudding, he was glad to dine on something else for a change.

He tried to concentrate on eating, but Elsea kept snagging his attention. She sat straight and upright, tearing small bites from her bread, buttering and eating them, then cutting wee morsels of meat with her dainty knife. He should've cut it smaller for her.

"You've always had the finest cook," she said.

Her hint at the past caused him to remember meals they'd shared ages ago. "Aye, she is skilled. But too keen on the garlic if you ask me."

Elsea snickered. "I like it."

He wanted to ask her if she'd been avoiding him for the past couple of days, since Torr and Gavin had arrived, but that would imply Brodie wanted to see her more often. He did, but she didn't need to know that.

Glancing at her lips again as she chewed, he remembered claiming her mouth and her body in the cave. The highlight of his life, to be honest. She should be furious with him for taking her so fiercely and with no regret, no apology. Imagining it, he grew hard and hellishly lightheaded. He cursed himself inwardly. The blood loss was still affecting him too much for such memories. He didn't want to black out at the table and fall face first on his trencher. He tried to focus on less appealing things.

"You two are blathering on so much I can hardly get a word in," Torr said, giving Brodie a mischievous look over Elsea's head.

"Amusing," Brodie grumbled, lifting his tankard so the passing servant could refill it. Whisky was what he needed.

Being away from the sea for so long grated at him and darkened his mood. Siting by Elsea only compounded his irritation. She tempted him, and he hated the weakness. He detested himself for being tempted.

Icy cold seawater was the only thing that could restore his sanity at this point. But he couldn't return to the sea until he bounced back from the blood loss. That could be awhile.

After the meal was over, the whisky appeared. The problem was his veins heated and his head swam after just two drams.

When the music grew livelier, his clansmen pushed back the tables, and couples flooded the dance floor, including Gavin, Torr, and their wives. The loud music only made Brodie's head throb and drove home the point that he was too weak to dance. Nor could he hold his liquor anymore, apparently. Damn it. Likely, he would barely be able to climb the stairs.

He gave a fake yawn for Elsea's benefit. "If you will excuse me, I think I'll go up and take a wee nap." He pushed up, steadying himself against the table until the dizziness subsided.

"I'll help you get upstairs." She rose.

He loved the idea of her going upstairs with him, but 'twas too tempting by far. What would the others think? "I'm sure I can manage." He stepped down from the dais without much wobbling. Since she was determined to follow, he reached up and took her arm.

"Nonsense." After stepping down, she grasped his elbow as if he were escorting her, but she was the one leading along the side of the great hall. "What if you should pass out on the stairs, fall and injure yourself further?" she asked.

"You could celebrate my demise."

"Humph. Ridiculous," she muttered.

"I would nay wish to sully your spotless reputation, m'lady."

She frowned at him. "Stop being silly, m'laird."

A more delicate lady would've been furious and insulted at him for his sarcastic comment. He glimpsed a bit of hurt in her eyes.

"I should nay have said that, lass," he muttered on the quieter stairs as she climbed up behind him, her hands against his back to make sure he didn't fall. "You well ken I'm a vile boar."

"True," she agreed.

He snorted with wry amusement.

"And cup-shotten besides," she went on.

"Ha. It takes far more than a couple of drams for that."

"'Tis affecting you worse because of the blood loss."

"Och. Mayhap so." Truth was, he hadn't been this sotted since he was eighteen summers.