roar of approval, and before Anne realized what was happening, the Mowat boys jumped over the table to descend upon Roy, who took off running. He headed for the kitchen door, but Deacon tackled him and the hapless cook was hoisted high and carried out the front door.
Anne watched the mob of boys, men, and barking, excited dogs in a state of shock. It had all happened so quickly.
She turned to the dais. The table had been knocked over. Bowls and stew were everywhere. Several of the dogs had stayed behind to lap up the bounty on the floor.
And there was Aidan. He sat in his chair exactly as he had before chaos had over taken his great hall. He was watching her.
“Happy?”
“I didn’t expect such a reaction,” she allowed.
He rose and stepped down from the dais. With a catlike grace, he approached. “Well done, lady wife,” he said in a voice as smooth as silk. “You flipped the tables neatly, no pun intended.”
She didn’t answer. She was wary of him now, waiting for the next game he wanted to play.
He stopped, so close she could make out the weave in his shirt. She caught a whiff of sandalwood and orange oil and intimately knew from where it had come.
She was also becoming familiar in a way only a wife could with other things—like the muscles of his chest, or the size and breadth of his hands.
He tilted her chin up to look at him. He had a lovely mouth. She had not noticed it before. Now, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
He spoke, “Touché, Anne. You’ve been very clever.”
“Do you think Roy will be back?”
“I doubt it. And you have dinner to prepare…”
He said the last with mock sadness. She knew he was certain the task would overwhelm her.
It almost did. She hid behind her pride, refusing to be intimidated. “Are you having guests for supper tonight?”
He pretended to consider a moment. “No. Just Hugh, Deacon, and me.”
“Deacon should be more careful whenever he sits at my table.”
Aidan’s eyes sparkled and he laughed with genuine amusement. “I think he learned a lesson this morning.”
She nodded mutely. When he smiled and looked at her with admiration and a hint of something else, something she couldn’t quite define, it was difficult for her to breathe, let alone think.
“Have a good day, wife,” he said, and left to join the others. As he opened the front door in the alcove, Anne heard Fang’s sons yelling outside. “…three…four—!” The door closed behind Aidan.
She started to have a little sympathy for Roy.
Looking around, she searched for Norval. They had a lot of work to do, but the servant had disappeared. Frowning, she hunted for him in the kitchen. He wasn’t there.
He was either taking a nap…or could he have bolted?
Anne stood in the center of the filthy kitchen and realized she was defeated. She couldn’t clean this room in a week, let alone in a day. And then there were the great hall, the bedrooms, the laundry, the candles, and those ridiculous rushes.
It was enough to make her want to return to London.
And that was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
The door opened. “Excuse me, my lady?” a woman’s soft voice said.
Anne turned. A group of women crowded in holding buckets, mops, and brooms. She pushed a stray lock of her hair back. “May I help you?”
A rosy-cheeked woman stepped forward. Her eyes were the blue of the sky on a sunny day, her hair the red of a rusty nail. She bobbed a curtsey. “My lady, we don’t mean to intrude, but we’ve come to welcome you to Kelwin. I’m Bonnie Mowat. I’m the mother of that brood of boys you fed this morning.”
Anne was surprised such a tiny woman could birth such strapping sons. In her bitter frustration she couldn’t help saying, “Welcome me? Do you mean you don’t mind that I am English?”
Mrs. Mowat laughed. “We despaired of the laird ever getting married. There isn’t a lad in the parish, including mine, who feels his obligation to settle down and raise a family, because they all want to ape the ways of the bold and heroic Laird Tiebauld. Oh, don’t mistake my meaning. The laird is a great, generous man. There’s none like him…but he’s been needing a wife. You’ve done us a favor, my lady. A great favor.”
It was on the tip of Anne’s tongue to tell them she’d be sent back to London posthaste after today, but she didn’t.