Page 54 of The Laird who Craved her

"An acquired taste," Ewan said, accepting a tankard from a passing servant. "Builds character."

"I believe I have quite enough character already."

"Nay such thing as too much, me lady."

Finn poured his own ale and said nothing, staring at a fixed point above the fire.

"Ewan's a widower," Douglas offered from across the table, an attempt to draw Finn back into the conversation. "Lost his wife three winters past."

"I am so sorry," Claire said, turning to Ewan with real sympathy.

"Thank ye." A flicker crossed his face, there and gone. "She was a lovely woman. Told me I talked too much to spend a whole life mournin', so I try to find somethin' to laugh at every day since."

"She sounds like she was wise."

"She was." He drank. "And have ye found a reason to laugh today, me lady?"

"I have indeed."

His grin came back full force. "I'm sittin' next to the most fascinatin' woman in Scotland."

"Ye flatter me too much." Claire laughed, a little color coming into her cheeks.

Finn's grip on his cup tightened until the metal creaked faintly under his fingers.

She should be sitting with the widower,he told himself.I should feel nothing watching it.The thought did not hold. It never held, not for longer than the length of one of her laughs.

"Tell me," Claire said, breaking a piece of bread in half, "what do the Sinclairs do for amusement?"

"Tell stories. Race horses across the moors."

"I'm fond of riding."

"Then ye must visit. I've a grey mare that would suit ye down to the ground."

"Lady Claire doesnae travel," Finn said, cutting through it like a blade laid flat on the table.

Claire blinked at him, surprised, missing the dark look he sent across at Ewan.

"She's safe enough here," Finn added, quieter, holding Ewan's eyes a beat too long.

"Of course, Laird MacRae." Ewan's smile didn't dim. "But a lady needs a change of scenery now and then."

"I'm quite content where I am," Claire said, trying to placate the situation.

"Then I'll bring the stories to ye instead." Ewan launched into a tale about a Highland cow that had wandered into his hall during a formal supper and eaten an entire centerpiece off the table, gesturing with both hands to show the size of the beast.

"You are absolutely inventing that," Claire said, laughing behind her hand.

"On me honor, me lady. I chased it out with a broom."

"A broom?"

"It was the only weapon to hand. A sword's useless against a stubborn cow."

Her laugh rang out clear over the noise of the hall, and Finn's shoulders went rigid beside her, though she didn't notice, too caught up in wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye.

She's so full of life.The thought sat in his chest like a stone.And she's wasting an evening of it beside a man who brings her nothin' but fear and a locked door.