She grinned at him. “I believe I am correct in what ye like.”
A servant carried over a platter and settled it before Ewan. He peered at it and froze. Coils of cooked eel snaked around one another, their dull eyes staring at nothing. A shiver of disgust crept up his spine.
He’d never cared for the wicked looking creatures. Not when they were alive with their serpentine bodies and sharp teeth. And even less when they were dead and set on a plate before him.
Mindful of her stare upon him, he pressed his lips together to stifle his expression.
She looked at the platter and gasped—no doubt in delight.
He steeled himself to force the meal down in an effort to please her. Not just one bite, but many. Enough to fill his belly. He stared down at the glossy, baked skin and bile burned up the back of his throat. Mayhap he’d need to eat an entire one.
“That isn’t what I asked Cook to make.” Faye glanced around the room, as though seeking the man out to speak with him then and there.
Ewan eyed the unappetizing meal before him. “What did ye ask for?”
“Venison,” she replied.
“So, ye dinna order eel intentionally?” Relief eased his tense shoulders.
She shook her head, her expression wounded. “I don’t know what I did wrong. How could I possibly confuse so simple an order?”
“May I confess something to ye?” Ewan nudged his elbow against hers.
She turned her worried gaze up to him and nodded.
“I’m glad ye dinna think I liked this.” He didn’t bother to hide his revulsion for the meal. “I canna stand eel.”
Her mouth curled up with mirth. “Nor can I.” She turned her face away from the platter. “I could go the rest of my life without ever having another.”
“My mum gave up with me when I was a lad.” Ewan chuckled. “I made such a show of it every time it was set before me.”
“It was all my mum could afford after my da died when we were in England,” Faye said. “We ate it for years.” A shiver of revulsion wracked through her, and they both laughed.
Their eyes caught with their shared distaste for the food, and a pleasant warmth hummed in Ewan’s chest. He reached for the bread, his hand hovering. “May I select the finest piece of bread for yer supper this evening, my lady?”
Faye smiled at him and made a show of perusing the small rolls. “That would be most kind of ye.”
He plucked one from the top. “This appears to be the bonniest in the bunch.”
She nodded her thanks as he took one for himself. Together, they split their bread and spread a glossy smear of salted butter over it, while the rest of the castle dined on eel for the first time in nearly a decade.
One of Ewan’s warriors entered the Great Hall at a clipped pace and approached the dais. “Forgive the interruption, sir, but there are several visitors who insist on seeing ye.”
“Several visitors” was vague enough to imply any number of people. Including the Gordon clan, which was the last thing Ewan wanted now that he’d finally removed them all from his home.
“Visitors?” Ewan set his bread on the plate in front of him, no longer plagued with hunger. “Who are they?”
The young man glanced toward Faye. “They claim to be Lady Sutherland’s family.”
13
Faye sat forward in her chair. “I beg yer pardon?”
The young man ducked his head, revealing the top of his bushy blond head. “They claim to be yer family, my lady. They’re in the bailey and insist on seeing ye both.”
Ewan nodded toward the large entryway. “Go to them. I’ll join ye in a moment.”
Faye leapt to her feet and raced through the Great Hall, heedless of so many eyes set upon her. She would have gone with or without Ewan’s permission, though she hadn’t anticipated he would deny her the opportunity to see her family.
They’d come for her.
All this time she’d worried they would think she was dead, or that they might not ever see her again. Drake, so strong and determined. Kinsey, all fire and driven with purpose. Clara, with her exquisite kindness. And Mum…
Tears blurred Faye’s vision, but she’d ventured through the castle enough times by now to know its layout. The missive she’d sent her family would not have reached them yet. They hadn’t come because she’d summoned them.
They’d come because they’d sought her out.
Such a realization made her tears spill over. She ran faster, erupting from the entrance to the castle and out into the cold night air.
All at once, there they were. Her mother with Kinsey on one side and Clara on the other.
“Faye!” Kinsey’s voice pierced the quiet with excitement, and the trio ran toward her.
They met halfway in a fiercely clashing hug. Arms curled around Faye, bringing with them the familiar sweet scent. Faye closed her eyes, welcoming the torrent of memories of her home and family, ones she’d turned away from previously in an attempt to stay sane.
They rushed back now, brought on by the familiarity of her sisters’ and mother’s voices and the clean perfume of lavender. Clara sewed the little sachets every time she harvested her herbs, setting aside a batch of buds specifically to perfume the kirtles stored at the foot of their beds. It was such a small, simple thing that Faye had always thought foolish.
Now, it was the smell of home. Of love.
“Thanks be to God ye’re here,” her mother whispered.
“Where’s Drake?” Faye hoped he hadn’t left his post at Werrick Castle, not when it meant so much to him.
“Two or three days behind us.” Clara glanced at the horizon as if she might be able to see him making his way to Dunrobin already. “We had a missive sent to him.”
“Are ye hurt?” Mum held Faye by
