month,” said James, rubbing his belly.
“I’ll say,” Torquil agreed, watching Ailish hang the drying cloth over a rafter.
Most of the men had supped in the stables, though as James’ men-at-arms, Torquil and Caelan had been invited to dine at the table. Ever since they came inside, the lad had made her a wee bit uneasy—but it seemed his nature was to be a bit too opinionated and abrasive. To be honest, everything had made her uneasy, especially the bed across the floor. The cottage consisted of one chamber.
One.
With one bed.
And as sure as he was sitting at the table like a presumptuous cat, Torquil was on the verge of taunting her. If Sir James weren’t present, she was certain the blackguard would say something vile. Aye, he might be a good ally on the battlefield, but Ailish always felt ill at ease whenever the lad was near.
She wrung her hands, looking for something else to occupy them.
“You look a bit nervous, m’lady,” Torquil said with a bit of mischief in his tone.
James patted the bench beside him. “Come and have a rest, dearest.”
Dearest?
The endearment made her stomach flip. Dropping her hands to her sides, she did as asked hoping she wasn’t blushing at the mere thought of being James’ dearest.
“What would you have to be nervous about?” asked the crofter.
“Nothing at all,” James said, patting her thigh.
Of course, such intimacy made Torquil snigger behind his tankard.
The rhythm of rainfall on thatch came from above. Ailish rubbed her arms, glancing to the bed. When would the others head for their pallets? What then? What would it feel like to be in a bed alone with Sir James?
She felt the color rise in her face as her mind wandered back to every kiss—in the wee hours at Duncryne Castle, behind the stables at the priory, and in the wood only a few days past.
All she could think about was kissing him again. Wrapping her arms around James and holding him as if he were her…her…husband.
’Tis scandalous!
But Ailish was already twenty years of age. Elizabeth de Burgh had only been ten and four when she married Robert the Bruce—the same age Ailish was when she fled Caerlaverock with Harris and Florrie.
With war a certainty, who knew if she’d ever wed. More than likely she would not, and most certainly not before the Maxwell lands had been reverted to the true earl, which could be years if not eons.
James poured her a tankard of ale. “Be careful not to swill it, Finlay’s ale is as thick as his pottage.”
“It helps a man sleep at night,” said the crofter, his toothless grin appearing over the top of his mug.
“So tell me,” said James. “What news?”
Finlay wiped the froth from his moustache with the back of his hand. “Last I heard, Edward’s men have stepped up their raids along the borders.”
“Because of the coronation?” asked Torquil.
“Aye.” Finlay’s gaze cut to James. “But from here to Glasgow, they’re pounding on every door seeking information as to where the Black Douglas is hiding.”
“They’ll never find him,” said Caelan. “Selkirk Forest is as impenetrable as any fortress I’ve ever seen.”
Ailish smiled to herself. She rather liked the new moniker they’d given the king’s most gallant knight. On a sigh, she took a long draw of the potent ale. She could use a good night’s sleep as long as the brew didn’t leave her with a sore head come morn.
“What about you?” asked Sir James. “Have they been here demanding to ken my whereabouts?”
“Aye. But they’ll never get a sane word out of me. I always act as if I’ve lost my wits whenever those bastards come calling.” Finlay raised his tankard toward Ailish. “Pardon my vulgar tongue, m’lady.”
“Carry on,” she said, saluting him in kind.
“That’s bloody clever,” said Caelan.
“This old fool still has a trick or two up his sleeve.” He pointed a gnarled finger at James. “And ye’d best not tell them you’ve been hunting in Selkirk Forest.”
“Och, did I not tell you? We’re hunters from the Highlands.”
As the conversation went on, moving from crops to the weather to boasting about how much better things would be once the English were banished from Scotland, Ailish’s eyelids grew increasingly heavy until she tottered into James’ shoulder.
He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. “Och, if we have any hopes of sleeping afore the sun rises, we’d best head for our beds.”
Everyone except Ailish stood. James walked Finlay to the door and shook his hand, thanking him for his hospitality.
Torquil