she would turn her back on a chance to become the esteemed wife of a lord to help a friend, especially since the friend happened to be married to a man she most likely considered to be the vilest outlaw since William Wallace.
Though he must never forget how Anya had disappointed him when she’d flagged the English ship. Nonetheless, if he had been in her shoes, shipwrecked on an isle with a man she considered an enemy, he would have done everything in his power to be rescued by someone he trusted—which certainly wasn’t the Scots and most definitely wasn’t anyone allied with Clan MacDonald. Aye, he had to admit the lass had all but ripped his heart out of his chest when she admitted to being the daughter of Lord Guy O’Cahan. Angus still hadn’t recovered from that wee disclosure.
But at the moment, he supposed it mattered not who had sired the lass. What mattered was that she was now under his protection and Robert expected him to watch over her until she was needed by the crown. Though he could not deny his attraction to Anya, it would be a political blunder of the highest order to woo her.
With the feast spread out in front of him, Angus’ mouth watered while the claws of hunger gripped his belly. He took an enormous bite from his joint of venison, moaning with pleasure and savoring the juice as it burst in his mouth.
On his left, Mither leaned forward and regarded his new ward. “Raghnall told us ye were anxious to return to Carrickfergus.”
Stopping mid-chew, Anya drew in a ragged breath. “Aye,” she whispered, lowering her gaze and not explaining further.
Angus knew very well his mother would have squeezed every last detail she could out of the man-at-arms and most likely knew about the marriage contract negotiations, albeit between Ulster and O’Doherty rather than Anya’s concocted story about the earl’s steward.
“I am sorry for this state of affairs, truly,” said Mither, her tone warm and sincere. “We will endeavor to make your stay here memorable.”
Angus nearly snorted. The poor lassie’s experience was already a catastrophe she’d never forget.
Anya craned her neck, looking directly at his mother. “This is a fine keep, I’m certain, but I do pray to return home anon.”
Sobering, Angus returned his attention to the venison on his plate, eating in silence for a time. When Anya leaned aside to allow a servant to remove a trencher, the lass’ knee brushed Angus’ thigh. As their gazes met, Angus could have sworn her breath caught in unison with his. Was there a hint of attraction on her part?
If only he were able to find out. But the moment passed soon enough, with Anya shifting again, though the folds of her dress still brushed his knee. Every time she moved, the caress of fabric reminded him of how closely she sat.
At the center of the table, the king and the knights around him burst forth with raucous laughter. Robert raised his goblet and stood. “Let us make merry and dance, for God only kens what the morrow will bring!”
After an uproarious cheer, the servants began moving the tables aside to make way for music and dancing. A lutists, a drummer and a flautist took their positions upon the gallery.
“Do ye like to dance?” Angus asked.
“Very much so, though I’m not as graceful as—”
“Finovola?” he ventured.
The lass turned as red as the scarlet background on the tapestry behind them. “She’s quite accomplished at most everything.”
He moved his knee ever so slightly to see if he could touch her leg again but only managed another wee brush of woolen skirts. “Ye have put your sister on a pedestal, have ye not?”
While a servant placed a dish of stewed apples in front of her, Anya leaned away, though she seemed to be careful not to brush his thigh this time. “She’s everyone’s favorite.”
Angus found that difficult to believe. “Why do ye reckon so?”
“First of all, where I am short and squat, she is long and lithe. She enjoys embroidery and will sit endlessly with the countess while they work their needlepoint, discussing menus, the servants, and the latest fashions.”
“I take it ye don’t care for needlepoint or idle chat?”
“Neither, really. I prefer to be outdoors. I like a spirited steed beneath me, with the wind in my hair. I like to hide away and draw everything I observe. I find so many new and astonishing things, I cannot see how anyone would prefer to