Page 78 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

“Ye came close enough that I felt obliged to move me feet.” Duncan lifted his cup in Elspeth’s direction, too pleased with himself. “She does clean up well, does she nae?”

“Daenae talk about me wife.”

Duncan laughed loudly.

Magnus sat, rather more heavily than the chair strictly required, and reached for the ale.

Elspeth took her seat one place down, and it was several minutes before he let himself look at her directly. It was a mistake, as it turned out, because she chose that exact moment to look back, caught him at it, and both of them found something else in the hall to study with sudden interest. She examined her own goblet. He examined the fire.

“The bread,” Katherine said from further down the table, oblivious or too observant to remark on it, “is somewhat dry tonight.”

“It’s fine bread,” Mrs. McAulay said, affronted.

“It’s fine bread for a siege, perhaps.”

The conversation carried on without him.

“It’s nae so bad,” Liam offered, already on his second piece. “Ye’re spoiled by Ben Cruachan’s usual fare.”

“I like it dry,” Agnes spoke up from further down the bench. “It crumbles better for the dog.”

Katherine’s head came up. “There isnae a dog under this table, Agnes.”

“There’s always a dog under the table, Ma.”

“Agnes.”

“He’s very quiet about it.”

“Agnes MacDougal, if there is a dog under this table⁠—”

“I didnae say there was one now. I said there’s always one, in general, everywhere, as a rule.”

Katherine opened her mouth to press the point further. Liam was already fighting a losing battle against his own grin.

It was under cover of the argument that Magnus reached for the bread basket himself… at the precise moment Elspeth reached for it too.

Their hands met over it.

Neither of them moved for a beat too long.

“Ye first,” he said, withdrawing his hand as though it had touched something considerably hotter than bread.

“I daenae mind waiting.”

“Nor do I.”

They sat there, both looking pointedly at the bread rather than at each other, until Duncan reached past both of them, took a roll, and set it down between their plates.

“There. Problem solved. Both of ye can stop staring at baked goods like they’ve personally wronged ye.”

Elspeth took the roll without comment, which struck Magnus as a considerably more dignified response than the one he currently felt inclined toward.

The meal carried on, courses arriving and vanishing, Katherine holding court on the subject of wedding flowers, Liam nodding along with the placid endurance of a man well used to it.

It was the fruit platter that undid him.

Elspeth leaned across him to reach it. There was no other way to reach it, the platter having been set squarely between his place and hers by a servant with either poor judgment or an excellent sense of mischief.