Page 22 of The Chief

Chapter 11

“You are welcome to sit and eat with me,” Rory’s mother said. “But I have absolutely no intention of leaving this hall.”

Which was what he’d feared she would say. He stood beside Cristane in the hall of his mother’s chosen home. Much smaller than the main keep, it only had room for four trestle tables. No head table here meant all sat together, an unusual arrangement that served his mother. Rory’s father had often jested that, for an Englishwoman, his wife was curiously unpretentious. It was one of the many things Rory loved about his mother.

Her stubbornness, however, he could do without. Especially when it put her at risk. Although the hall was intimate and warm, courtesy of the large fireplace in the corner of the hall, it lacked the protection offered by the castle walls.

“Mother . . .”

“’Tis lovely to see you, my dear,” she said, shifting her attention to his companion. “Come, sit with me.” When Cristane looked to him to answer, his mother added,

“Do stop brooding, love. Escort Cristane over here with you and eat.”

With no choice but to do his mother’s bidding, he handed their mantles over to a servant and offered his arm to Cristane. For a moment, Rory feared Cristane might not let him escort her, but she took his arm. The thin fabric of his shirt did nothing to protect him from the jolt he’d not been expecting.

Though he should have.

First, the dance. Then, the kiss.

Everything had changed the day of the feast. Her face was everywhere now, before him when he woke, when he slept. Rory found himself thinking of her sweet lips, the feeling of her body pressed against him, at the most curious of times.

Like this one.

Rory pushed the thoughts beneath the surface as they reached the table. Once she was seated, he took the empty spot next to her.

Their legs touched.

“Kind of you to bring more pleasant company than yourself,” his mother said, regarding them with a slight grin.

If his thoughts had been riotous before, they were ten times more so now, the heat of her skin burning through him despite the layers of cloth that separated them. Why had he invited her to join him?

Invited? Nay, he’d begged her, as if his very life depended on it.

“Good day, my lady,” Cristane said softly, pulling away from him. “’Tis kind of you to welcome me so.”

For a few moments, Rory was allowed to sit in silence, stewing about the feelings he didn’t quite understand, and Cristane spoke to his mother and her ladies as if she’d known them her whole life. Which, of course, she had. A serving maid placed a trencher between them, and they both reached for a morsel of chicken at the same time. Their fingers touched, sending a bolt of energy through him, but he pulled away and pretended it hadn’t affected him. They all made polite conversation until the topic Rory had come to discuss was laid in his very lap.

“I do not mean to be indelicate,” his mother said to Cristane, “but is it true you were snatched by McKinnon and retrieved by my son?”

If he was blunt, his mother was even more so.

“Indeed, my lady. ’Twas my fault for having ridden out alone.”

“Hmm,” his mother seemed to agree. “But my son should have properly alerted all of the danger, no?”

He refrained from bringing Terric into the conversation, as he knew his mother despised comparing her sons, but Rory sorely wanted to remind her that their clan would soon be saved. Come spring, the true chief would return and Rory could step back from the duties none seemed to think he could fulfill.

“Aye, Mother,” he said instead.

The look she gave him conveyed her displeasure clearly. For putting Cristane at risk or for something else?

“Which brings us back to the reason for our visit,” he said.

His mother snatched up her wine goblet and raised it.

“A toast for those of us who have reached the age where we know our minds and stick to them. And to young love, may it endure even in the midst of clan wars and abhorrent violence.”

All present knew his mother as well as he did, which meant everyone knew her toast to be her answer to his remark. In other words, she would not leave.