“Did ye nae eat before? I cannae remember.” Keegan scrubbed a hand over the stubble that grew along his jaw, getting thicker for his want of a proper shave.
She tried not to study it too intensely, pushing the thoughts of how it felt against her skin as far from her mind as she could—and failing miserably.
“I dinnae eat a bit, Laird Brahanne. I had been pulled from the Great Hall for some reason. What could that have been?”
Willow teased Keegan about interrupting her plan to eat with his need for answers, but what it really did was remind both of them of the time they’d spent alone in the study. It was unintentional and far too late to do anything about it. The mood at the table changed, and Willow was suddenly all too aware of her pulse in her neck—and the heat growing within her cheeks.
“I have been known to be a bit on the stubborn side.”
“A bit?” Willow barked out, unable to stop herself. “You give me brother a run for his money, and that man is possibly more rooted in his ways than a tree.”
Keegan laughed again, and damn her to hell and back, but the sound still lit up something inside her that Willow did not understand.
“Though, I will admit to having more success with these recent information-gatherin' tactics than with those I have tried in the past.”
Willow’s internal temperature shot up all the more, and she forced herself to swallow, breaking the eye contact she maintained with the laird before she combusted.
As she reached for her cup, trusting in the wine to settle her, Willow felt that odd need to prod at Keegan rise up once more.
“Am I to believe then that this is the first ye’ve taken up kissin' a lass who doesnae answer yer questions?”
The laird coughed abruptly as he sipped at his ale, a bit of the liquid splashing over the rim of his mug and landing on his shirt. Willow fought the desire to smile and instead reached for the cloth set near her plate and offered it to Keegan.
“Apologies, Laird Brahanne. I dinnae mean to startle ye with a simple question.”
Keegan took the offered napkin and dabbed it at his mouth. “Nay trouble at all, me lady. I merely inhaled when I should have been focused on me drinkin'.”
Now, as Keegan glanced over at her with a look of heated fury, Willow dared to smile sweetly. They held each other’s stares for a moment, which stretched on and on until a clansman at the table in front of them hollered out against his mates. He had likely lost a bet or had his pride challenged, but it all looked in good fun.
Chuckling, Keegan completed a drink of his ale uninterrupted this time. Willow cocked her head at him as he did beforeturning her gaze to the table of men well into their cups. They were raucous and jovial, with an air of relaxed familiarity among them.
It was a rare sight to see a group of warriors so at ease, readily enjoying themselves at dinner. The mood at all times in MacCallum Castle, whether in the Great Hall for a meal, during the hearings, or simply walking down the corridors, was always that of somber, dismal banality.
Clansmen were not wild at the tables back at her home. They did not bet or jest with each other outside of their private rooms where Magnus’s reach could not find them. In every way and for every person therein, MacCallum Castle was a prison—and for the first time, she feared not only for her own sister but for Keegan’s.
“Now, what has caused that?” the laird asked, and Willow turned to face him.
“Hmm? Caused what?” She shook her head, raising her brows at him.
“Ye look as if someone has stolen yer blanket, and it’s cold. Trust me, I have seen the face ye make.”
Willow scoffed out a laugh. “Och, have nay concern over me face. It runs away without me at times.”
Cocking a brow, Keegan leaned onto his elbow, resting it on the table as he faced toward her with his mug dangling from his hand. Willow silently cursed how the man was able to make even the simplest of things look alluring.
“Ye do wear yer emotions all over it most of the time. It would be an easy thing to play cards with ye.”
That sent Willow reeling backward, her mouth dropping as she gaped at the laird. “How dare ye assume that I am terrible at a game. Ye couldnae be farther from the truth.”
However, as she played at her offense, Willow was concerned for a moment. She had always been an expert at hiding her sadness and anger behind a mask of kindness, even as it approached malicious compliance at times. She could not deny, after all, that she had carried out many an order of Magnus’s if only by the letter and not the spirit of his law.
Ready herself for presentation to be married?Why, of course, Laird MacCallum.But it would be done in no haste and with no great effort to look her best. In her way, Willow knew that the behavior might have been seen as childish or unruly. Still, she had so few ways of creating a space of independence for herself. It was the only means she had to exert some control over her life.
“Well,” the laird pulled her from her thoughts again, “I will admit to being verra keen on seein' that.”
Tension grew between them, and Willow could tell that something lingered on Keegan’s tongue. He wished to say something, but he was holding it back so firmly.
“Perhaps another time.” Keegan nodded at her, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.