The Rebel Wears Plaid - Eliza Knight Page 0,36

deadly.

“Sit.” She pointed at a seat beside the head of the table and then took the chair at the head herself.

Simon, Camdyn, and Isla had found a place between Dirk and an older woman with similar features to Jenny. Her mother, perhaps. A fresh pang hit him in the chest. If only he’d known that his mother had snuck off to side with the Jacobites. If only he could have somehow stopped her.

“Toran, this is my mother, Lady Mackintosh.”

The lady reached across the table with her hand, and Toran stood to take it, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “A pleasure, my lady.”

“Welcome to Cnàmhan Broch. We dinna get many visitors, especially handsome ones.” The older woman winked, and a glance at Jenny showed the younger woman’s horror at the exchange.

“And I dinna often have the pleasure of dining with beautiful women.” He winked back at Lady Mackintosh and ignored the snort of disgust from Dirk. Beside him, he could sense rather than see Jenny’s spine stiffening.

“Thank ye ever so much for letting us stay with ye,” his sister said to Jenny.

Jenny pressed her lips together, and he prayed she wouldn’t shoot his sister down with that viper tongue of hers.

“Ye’re verra welcome,” Jenny managed.

Toran nodded his thanks to her. Bowls of soup were placed before them along with hunks of bread.

“The pea soup is cold,” Jenny said. “The way we like it in summer.”

“Looks delicious,” Toran said.

“’Tis.”

A large hound with graying black fur and floppy ears bounded into the room then, as if he’d only just noticed they had newcomers. He stopped behind Toran, hackles raised as he growled.

“Dom,” Jenny snapped, making a slashing movement with her hand.

The dog immediately stopped growling and sat less than two feet behind Toran, staring at him with large black eyes.

Jenny went back to her soup as the hound stood guard. Across the table, Isla and Camdyn grinned, while Dirk smirked and Simon had his eyes on Toran with a look that said he’d like to gut him. Nothing new there.

The meal concluded shortly after, with the hound still at Toran’s back, and when he tried to rise from the table, the dog let out a low growl. Evidently Dom was going to be keeping a close eye on him.

“My lady?” Toran asked with a raised brow, though he knew he could take the dog in hand with a few bits of meat.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Dom, come.” She patted her hip as she walked toward the hearth where several chairs were grouped around a small round table topped with a chessboard. “Do ye play?” she asked Toran, indicating the board.

He did in fact play, but he’d only ever done so with none other than his uncle, the Fox, and it had been some time. “I’ve had the occasion.”

“Would ye play me now?”

Good God, would he ever… But he knew she was speaking of the game, not her body. Thrusting carnal thoughts from his mind, Toran nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t rumble low with desire.

Toran held out her chair, and she took a seat, smoothing her skirts beneath her bottom. He scooted her closer to the table before taking the seat opposite her.

“I’ll allow ye to go first as my guest.” She swept her hand over the board game.

“But I must insist that a lady go first.”

She raised her brow in challenge. “So ye think me a lady?”

He grinned. “At least ye play one well.”

A soft laugh escaped her. “Ye will not be able to win me over by making me laugh.”

“I am not here to win ye over, my lady.” Those simple words reminded him exactly of why he was here. This was no flirtation at a country dance; this was a deadly game.

Around them Highlanders took up places as though they had an evening routine. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all for show, or was this natural? Dirk took up a spot against the wall near the hearth, a dagger in his hand and a partly whittled piece of wood in the other. Other men took up games of cards or bones, and Lady Mackintosh claimed a seat near Dirk, arranging herself with an embroidery frame. Simon stood on the opposite end of the hearth, eyes on Toran, a silent reminder that he was there to spy for his father.

Camdyn pulled a stool closer to the game for his sister and stood sentry behind her, just as the strange old hound now stood sentry behind

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