The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(63)

He spoke sharply, and she took it as a criticism—though it wasn’t meant as one. Her face fell. “You must think you’ve found a slattern for a wife. I was about to polish the silver, but—”

“You decided to practice your swordsmanship instead?”

This time his teasing did not work. “The children,” she twisted her hands, “they were so eager for the rest of the story and I’m afraid I got carried away. I will return to my duties at once.”

She looked so crushed, he found himself taking her hand, wanting to reassure her. “I don’t think you lazy at all. You’re doing a fine job as chatelaine.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you think so? Truly?”

It was obvious that his opinion mattered a great deal to her. “Aye, truly.”

He realized it was the truth. She was doing a good job.

Christina had been here only a short while, but she’d slipped into her new role as lady of the keep with ease. Only now that he thought about it did he realize how difficult that must have been. She was young, inexperienced, and surrounded by strangers. But she’d summoned up enough authority to garner the respect of his clansmen. She must have, or they wouldn’t be doing her bidding. Now that he thought about it, the few times they’d shared a meal, he recalled the servants bringing the platters of food to her first for approval, and beaming when it was given. They not only respected her, they liked her.

That wasn’t all. There was something different about the keep since she’d arrived. Something other than the tapestries and changes that she’d pointed out that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It felt warmer. He frowned, wondering if she was burning too much peat.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head, still frowning. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he would check with the seneschal next time about the peat. “Nay, I must go.”

The men were waiting for him. But for some reason he wasn’t as eager to return to the training as he had been a few minutes ago.

He turned to leave, and a bubble of desperation rose up inside her. This was the first time she’d had a chance to talk to him during the day since he’d returned to find her in the kitchens covered with ash. Apparently, finding her in less-than-flattering circumstances was beginning to be a habit. But she didn’t care. She was starved to learn more about him and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“Wait!” He turned back with a perplexed look on his face and she felt like a fool. Heat rose up her cheeks. Her hands twisted in her skirts. “I …” What was she going to say? “I don’t know what you like,” she blurted.

“What I like?”

“To eat,” she explained, feeling ridiculous. She couldn’t even manage a coherent sentence when he was around. She blushed and stammered and acted like a silly lovesick girl. The moment he stepped into the room she was just that. “I should like to know your preferences when I go over the week’s meals with the cook.”

“Cormac allows you to tell him what to prepare?” He sounded incredulous.

Her brows furrowed. “Shouldn’t he?”

“He should, but Cormac is a stubborn old goat. He makes what he wants and doesn’t listen to anyone.”

She smiled sweetly. “Except me.”

His eyes narrowed on her for a long pause. “How much did it cost you?”

She put her hand on her heart with mock outrage. “I’m deeply offended.”

He quirked a brow.

Her mouth twisted. “Has anyone ever told you that you are far too suspicious?”

He folded his arms across his chest, causing the impressive muscles to bulge. She would never get tired of looking at him.

“All the time,” he said. “It’s my job.”

When it seemed he would wait forever, she harrumphed and said, “Oh, very well. I find that he is much more reasonable after a large tankard of cuirm.”

Tor chuckled, and the deep sound filled her with warmth. His teeth were so white against the bronze of his tan, and the creases in his cheeks deepened when he smiled.

“It seems I’ve married a devious lass.”

For a minute she wondered whether he was talking about what had happened at Finlaggan, but she was relieved to see only a teasing glint in his eye. She gave him a cheeky grin. “I prefer to think of it as being resourceful.”

“However it was done, I’m impressed.”

Despite the lighthearted manner in which it was given, the compliment pleased her enormously. Perhaps he was noticing her efforts more than she’d realized? The thought emboldened her. “I know you are busy, but we’ve been married for nearly three weeks now, and we’ve had so little time to talk. I hardly feel as if I know you.” The smile slipped from his face, but she didn’t heed the warning. She was carried away with the excitement of their first “normal” husband-and-wife exchange and didn’t want it to end. “It is almost time for the midday meal, and there are so many things I should like to discuss with you.” Her mind raced in a thousand directions. Had he noticed the new pillows? And she wanted to get his opinion on the color for the new bed hangings. She had so much to ask him! “Perhaps you might stay?” Then she had an even better idea. “Or I could come with you. It’s not raining, maybe a picnic—”