The unspoken word hung in the air between them.
“Our timing on this is wrong, Colm. We place our army at a grave disadvantage with winter so close at hand. Once more I’d ask that you reconsider holding off until spring. Should the snows overtake us in the mountains, we risk losing many men.”
They risked losing many men even if they reached Tordenet Castle ahead of any snow. Unless he could figure out another way before the battles began.
“We canna wait, Paddy. It’s what Torquil will expect of us. You ken his powers and his strength as well as I do. Our best hope is to arrive with surprise on our side.”
“As you say.” Patrick nodded, all expression wiped from his face.
His brother understood the risks and the necessity as well as he did. But, as a good second should, he played the part of devil’s advocate well. It was one of his traits Malcolm appreciated most.
“I am but a tree in a din of spears,” Patrick continued, reverting to the ancient way of speaking. “Yours to use as you will.”
Malcolm waited until Patrick closed the door behind him before propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his hands over his eyes.
The kenning his brother had used was not lost on him.A warrior in battle.It was, as it always had been, the perfect description for Patrick.
Malcolm only hoped that in this quest to save their sister he could prevent his brother from becoming a felled tree in a din of spears.
When he heard the door open, he assumed Patrick had returned.
“Do you want to talk about it? Whatever it is that’s causing you such worry?”
Not Patrick. Danielle.
“I’ve no worries.” None that he would share with her. She didn’t deserve such a burden.
“Right.” She pushed the door halfway closed before she crossed the room and seated herself in one of the chairs at the table, propping her arms in front of her and leaning forward to meet his gaze. “Let me guess. You’re a lousy gambler, aren’t you?”
“Gambler?” He shook his head, in no mood to try to decipher her odd words.
“Games of chance. For silver. I’m guessing you’re not very successful at it. Am I right?”
“I do no risk my people’s silver on games of chance.” It was a foolish waste of time.
“Because you’re not good at it. Am I right?” she asked again.
“No man is,” he countered, unwilling to admit more.
She chuckled, a broad smile on her face, and leaned back in her chair. “It’s because you have a tell. Someone would only need to observe you for a little while and they’d figure it out. You telegraph your feelings. I could tell you were worried when I walked into the room.”
“A tell,” he repeated, lifting his hand to his forehead. He had too much on his mind this day to even attempt to understand her comment.
“That’s it!” she all but shouted, leaning forward again. “You do that every time you’re bothered. You rub your hands across your face like a man with a headache. You couldn’t send a clearer signal if you climbed up on the table and complained out loud. That’s what you were doing when I walked in. That’s why I asked what was bothering you.”
He started to deny it but realized even before the first word left his mouth that she was correct. Instead he responded by laying his hands flat upon the table in front of him.
Dani stood, a grin spreading over her face. “Oh, I do like a man who listens to good advice. I know you have stuff going on, so I won’t keep you any longer. I just stopped by to make sure you planned to be at tomorrow’s midday meal. Ada is allowing me to fix something special and I want to make sure you’re there to try it.”
Had he not yet made it clear to her that he did not consider her a servant here? Obviously, he had not. He rose to his feet and moved to where she stood, catching up her hand when he reached her side.
“Yer no one of the kitchen staff, Dani, and you’ve no a need to learn to be one. Yer a lady, aye? My lady. You can spend yer day in . . .” He paused, realizing as he spoke that he wasn’t exactly sure how the lady of the castle might spend her time. “In pursuit of a lady’s activities,” he finished somewhat belatedly.
“A lady’s activities?” she echoed, her smile lighting her eyes and lilting in her voice. “Oh, Malcolm, I have no idea what those might be, but please understand, I love to cook. It’s a pleasure to me to create good food, and a whole new challenge here. It’s something I want to do, not something I think you expect me to do.”
As if he could deny her anything that brought her pleasure when she looked at him like that. He would have told her that very thing, too, but a flicker of movement caught his eye. The door, almost closed a moment earlier, was less so now. Someone had moved it, ever so slightly.
His guess was that Dermid or his man Rauf stood just outside. Listening.