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“Has anyone seen her since?”
They all shook their heads.
“I’ll go find her,” Iain said. He was rising from his seat when the woman in question breezed in, seemingly without a care in the world. Iain had to admit, she looked lovely.
“Yesenda,” Bram said. “May we have a word with you?”
As she walked over to the men, she said, “Of course, laird.”
Yesenda stood beside Iain, and he inhaled deeply, drinking in not just the sight of her, but also the scent of her skin.She smells like fresh flowers. Iain momentarily closed his eyes and savored the scent. It caused a heady sensation. When he opened his eyes, Bram was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Is anything the matter?” Yesenda asked.
“Aye, there was a stranger asking about you in the village. Do you ken anyone from the village?”
“No, what does he look like?”
Niall said, “Male, medium height with fair hair, blue eyes and he dressed like a pilgrim. He had markings on his forearm.
“What kind?” she asked.
“Twas a spiked war club.”
Yesenda frowned, then schooled her features. “I am at a loss. I ken nothing.”
Bram said, “I will make more inquiries. In the meantime, you are to remain close to the Keep. Iain will accompany you if you need to go beyond the gates.”
Yesenda protested, “Laird, tis unnecessary really. I am certain Iain has far more pressing concerns to—”
“You’ll not leave this Keep without me, and that’s final,” Iain commanded.
Yesenda glanced at the men and could see none would relent, so she took the path of least resistance and agreed. “Of course, I thank ye, Laird, and Iain; I will notify you if I leave the Keep.”
Iain nodded and continued to gaze at her with those dark, intense eyes.
Yesenda felt slightly disconcerted. She needed to set some distance between them. “If that is all, might I eat now?”
“Of course, thank you, Yesenda.” Bram said.
She turned to walk away when Iain said, “Wait, I have not eaten yet, either. I will join you.” It was a statement and not as a request. Iain then moved to her side and lightly placed his hand on her back, ushering her to a separate table.
“Ah… all right then.” Yesenda felt like a wooden statue, slightly nervous about being in Iain’s presence. She felt goose bumps on her skin.
Iain nodded and gestured for her to take a seat beside him for the meal. Yesenda complied.
When the food was served, she closed her eyes and quietly murmured something before she ate. When she opened her eyes, she felt Iain’s gaze upon her again. She paused, as there was something indecipherable in his expression. It was warmth and softness directed at her.
“What were you doing?” Iain asked.
“Giving thanks,” she replied.
“For your food?”
She blushed. “Aye. Sometimes in the abbey, food was scarce. I’ve learned to give thanks when I have it.” She took a massive bite of the pie. “Oh my, this is the best pie I have ever tasted,” she groaned as she chewed, utterly oblivious to the effect her words had on the listener.
Iain observed the way she savored the pie, then for the first time in a long time, he smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes.
He said a quick grace over his trencher, smiled and dug into his meal.
