accept that.” She picked up her coin from the table and slipped it back into her sleeve. “Perhaps next time ye’ll win, and this coin will be yours.”
“I didna realize we were wagering.” He went to open his sporran to pull out a coin.
“There is always a wager on a game, sir. But I dinna want your coin.”
“What, then?”
“Your surrender was all I asked for, and ye have already given it.”
The woman was sly, he’d give her that.
“I believe I surrendered to ye the night we first met.”
Her eyes widened, and he realized he probably should not have said that aloud in such a public space, but in the heat of their exchange, he’d felt as though they were quite alone. Were all in the hall privy to her nighttime dealings, or had he given her secret life away?
“When was that?” her mother asked, clearly not privy at all.
The flush in Jenny’s cheeks grew paler, but she spoke with ease. “At one of the festivals we attended with Da a few years ago.”
“Ah,” her mother sighed, and he could sense the sadness there. She’d lost her husband to this rebellion too.
Toran pushed back from his chair and stood, holding out his hand to Jenny. “My lady, if I may beg your hospitality for sleeping quarters for the four of us.”
“Of course.” She placed her hand in his—small and delicately boned and yet the palms were callused. She was not a recluse who sat in her tower all day gazing at the world working around her. But he didn’t have to touch her hands to know that already. “Isla may have a chamber above stairs, and ye men can sleep with the men in the barracks.” She glanced behind her at Dirk. “Will ye show them?”
“Aye,” Dirk grunted as he pushed off the wall, the tip of his dagger conveniently pointed at Toran as his gaze fell to where their hands clasped.
Jenny jerked away, her face coloring once more.
“Isla, if ye will, I’ll show ye upstairs. Mama, would ye care to join us? We’ll have a cup of tea before we retire.”
Toran hesitated in following Dirk. When Jenny sensed his stillness, she turned to him, seemingly reading his mind.
“Your sister will be fine,” Jenny said. “Trust me.”
Two simple words that carried with them a heavier weight than she could know.
Isla hugged him tight, smiling up at him. “I’ll be fine, Brother. Jenny is kind.”
Kind he wasn’t certain of; however, he did know that the lass had heart. And he supposed for now that was good enough. Toran nodded to Jenny and patted Isla on the back.
“Be good,” he murmured.
Isla rolled her eyes. “When have I ever misbehaved?”
Jenny’s eyes crinkled with laughter at that, a private moment shared between the two of them that mystified him.
“Fraser,” Dirk growled, yanking his attention back.
“Ye’d best go afore he bites,” Jenny cautioned, and she wasn’t talking about Dom.
Toran moved slowly toward Dirk, Simon, and Camdyn, watching the ladies as they exited through a small doorway to the right.
Out of earshot of Jenny, Dirk clapped a hand hard on Toran’s back. “One wrong move from ye, and I’ll run ye through myself.”
Toran didn’t doubt the man meant every word. “I gather one wrong move is not all it’ll take.”
Dirk grunted.
“What say ye we have a little friendly sparring match?” Toran offered, needing the distraction from thinking about Jenny undressing and climbing into a big bed all alone.
Dirk grinned and clapped him on the back again. “Kicking your arse would be a great pleasure.”
Toran grinned in return. “Likewise.”
Seven
“How old are ye, Isla?” Jenny settled into a chair in her mother’s solar with a cup of warm tea clasped between her hands.
Her mother sat to her left and Isla to her right. They’d all kicked off their shoes and tucked their feet beneath them, their shawls discarded. And if Jenny didn’t think it would offend her mother too much, she would have stripped off her gown, settling onto the chair in true comfort rather than with her back ramrod straight.
“I’m thirteen, my lady.”
“Och, ye need not be so formal in here with me.” Jenny wiggled her stockinged feet. “We’re not even wearing shoes.”
Isla giggled and sipped at her tea.
“Thirteen. I remember when I was thirteen.”
Her mother glanced up, smiling at her over the embroidery ring. “I remember too. Ye were a spitfire.”
Jenny laughed. “What about ye, Isla, did ye drive your mother to distraction?”
She shook her head sadly, settling her cup down on her lap as she looked