“Of course not. No lad does. From the day they understand they are to become men like those they see walking about with swords, fighting, and drinking ale, they take on that pride.”
“Hmmm. So they try to become men with all that swagger and arrogance.”
“Aye.” He grinned at the look of annoyance on her face.
“Weel, he is calmer now. Ye will be pleased to ken that Joan believes ye can get out of bed for a wee while. It has been a sennight and ye are healing weel.”
“We Murrays do heal weel, and oftimes fast.”
“A fine gift. But, ye are to be careful to nay do too much or stand on that leg too much.”
Harcourt nodded, frustrated but not foolish enough to ignore good advice. “The healers in my clan would say the same. Aye, and be verra annoyed if I didnae heed their warnings.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“And I suspicion if I was fool enough to ignore Mistress Joan’s advice, she would show me that she could lecture me with all the power of my mother.”
“Aye, she would. Joan has always been an expert at a good, ear-reddening scold.”
Annys reached to take away his now empty dishes and squeaked in surprise when he put an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She put her hands on his broad shoulders to keep some space between them but decided that was a mistake. The warmth of his skin beneath her hands had her pulse leaping. When he moved, the shift of his strong muscles under her hands made her flush as her blood heated.
“Ye ken, ’tis custom to kiss a wound to help it heal,” he murmured as he kissed her blush-tinged cheek.
“That is only for bairns,” she said, fighting the urge to look at his strong thigh, the one now bearing stitches and snugly bandaged.
“A poor wounded mon is much akin to a bairn.”
“Ye willnae hear me argue that.”
He was still smiling when he kissed her. Annys knew she ought to pull away, to admonish him for his attempt to seduce her, but she failed to gather the willpower to do so. He tasted too good. Despite the slight awkwardness of the position she was in, it also felt far too good to be held in his arms again. She wanted to push all the dishes aside and climb into the bed with him.
A hard rap at the door jerked Annys to her senses. She scrambled free of Harcourt’s grasp so quickly she barely stopped herself from falling on the floor and rattled the dishes. Only his quick action saved him from a lap full of dirty dishes. Fussily patting her hair to fix any dishevelment and plucking at her skirts to be certain they were in place, Annys ignored Harcourt’s grumbled objections to being disturbed and moved toward the door. It surprised her to find Callum there, his expression far more serious than she was used to seeing.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her fear still running strong after what had happened to Benet.
“Nay, but I need to talk to Harcourt for a moment,” he said.
“Just give me a moment to collect the dishes,” she said and hurriedly did so.
It was not until she found herself out in the hall, the door shut securely behind her, that Annys began to be a little annoyed. If they were about to discuss Sir Adam or some trouble at Glencullaich she should be involved in the discussion. Then she shook aside that moment of pique. She had handed the problem of Glencullaich over to Harcourt and his men. It was unfair for her to now complain about how they went about it. If there was anything she truly needed to know or do as the lady of Glencullaich, Harcourt would tell her.
Although, she mused as she made her way back to the kitchens, it might not be a good idea to be alone with Harcourt for too long. Annys knew he had been working hard to seduce her into his bed. She also knew she was weakening fast. It was past time for her to come to a decision about Harcourt. Her heart and body yearned for him but she had to try to silence them and think clearly. If nothing else, if she bed down with him she wanted it to be her choice, a clear-headed, well-thought-out decision.
“The traitor is in the kitchen,” said Callum as he sat on the edge of Harcourt’s bed.
“Ye discovered which one is betraying us?” Harcourt wanted to leap from the bed to go confront the one who had given his son into the hands of his enemy, probably with sword in hand, and he was not sure the fact that it was a woman he was hunting would stop him from killing her.
“Nay yet, but ’tis one of the lassies who work in the kitchens. Three of them have some secret. The lass I play with is certain that two of them have a lover they meet with, one they dinnae want anyone to ken about. She isnae sure what young Minna is doing but doubts ’tis anything bad.”