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disabused him of that. She wasn’t about to put up with this stranger’s overbearing ways. She scooted around him before he knew what she was about.
    He looked ready to object further, but he didn’t. The man named Connor, whom she remembered kneeling beside her in the clearing, said something to him she didn’t catch.
    “Allow me the pleasure, Brianna.” Galan appeared at her side and held out his arm to escort her.
    She put the tips of her fingers on his forearm and marveled
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    at the hardness there. He must work out daily. Their footsteps stirred the rushes under their feet, releasing the soft scents of rose petals, thyme and rosemary, adding a pleasant touch to the medieval atmosphere in the room.
    Galan seated her beside him at the high table, and after glancing around, she saw several people separated her from where the aggravating man sat. If she could not see him, he also could not see her.
    Young attendants silently brought basins and poured water for them to wash their hands. Another handed them drying cloths. A servant placed a large, flat piece of stale dark bread on a platter between her and Galan. Ahh, a trencher? Her imagination seemed quite accurate. They each had a silver goblet for wine, but no eating utensils were on the table.
    Servitors placed platters of salmon, steaming venison and roasted boar stuffed with mushrooms nearby. As the smells drifted to her, her mouth began to water.
    Galan removed an eating knife from a sheath at his side and lifted a sizeable portion of salmon onto the trencher.
    She had no idea how she was supposed to eat it. Why couldn’t she dream of a time when they at least had wooden forks? Galan whispered to her and held a portion to her lips. Carefully, she took it without her lips touching him. It tasted divine.
    Leaning forward, she stole a quick glance at the head of the table. Disgruntled, she rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t see any of the faces there clearly. She huffed in disgust. Why couldn’t she have decent eyesight in her dream? Lord, what she wouldn’t give to have her contacts. She squinted and finally saw Lady Maud’s husband help her with the salmon in the same fashion.
    Feeling the hard gaze of the warrior upon her, she jerked back and took a gulp of wine. It was a big mistake. Never had she tasted such dry red wine. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from spluttering it over the table. She preferred a dry red, but this was so dry it near withered the insides of
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    her cheeks. The platters of food no longer enticed her. Blast!
    It was the Scotsman’s fault. He’d ruined her appetite. She’d probably be so hungry when she awoke that she’d eat two of the large, famous English breakfasts.
    Listening to the conversations around her, she became more familiar with Old English. She had no need to speak, though, for when someone asked her a question, Elise supplied the answer. The young woman chattered on and on, reminding Lydia of an excited teenager.
    Each time Galan leaned close, she felt ripples of disapproval radiate from Mr. Macho at the head of the table. He acted like a jealous boyfriend.
    “Brianna, I have a surprise for you. I have worked long and hard to please you with it,” Galan whispered in her ear.
    “Oh, God. Do you think you can go slower on the surprises?” Since she had entered Blackthorn’s museum, she’d had one shocking surprise after the other.
    “Are you talking to God, Brianna? Father Jacob will be back for matins at dawn. After mass, you can talk to him and he will tell you what God thinks.” Elise nodded encouragingly.
    Smiling at Brianna, Galan took a lap mandolin from a page and bowed to her. He sat on a stool in front of the table and began to play. The music had a beautiful melody.
    As his voice filled the room, its quality held Lydia spellbound. Hearing the words, she realized he was singing a love song. From the many knowing smiles of everyone seated near her, it wasn’t an