battering at the hands of her late husband and she had gained little for it. So it could certainly withstand allowing a man to help her and the boys to survive. She had, after all, come to Scotland to seek the help of her family. Sir Brian was at least allied to her family through marriage.
“This may help to fill our bellies,” Brian said as he entered and held up a rabbit readied for the spit.
Arianna stared at the catch in wide-eyed surprise. “I didnae think ye were gone long enough to go hunting.”
“Didnae hunt it. Ill-fated creature hopped right into the midst of the horses. Fortunately, I am verra good at throwing a knife.” He set the rabbit down and pulled a clever collection of iron rods from the pack, which he swiftly set up as a spit above the fire. “My brothers willnae be pleased that I took the pack with this in it.” He winked at her and grinned. “It is a highly prized tool for one’s travels.”
A blush heated her cheeks and her heart actually beat faster in her chest, as Arianna reeled a little beneath the heady power of that smile. He is kin, she reminded herself firmly, but herself was all too quick to also remind her of the very tenuous connection of the MacFingals to the Murrays, despite his brother’s marriage to her cousin. She had a lot of cousins. Arianna just nodded in a way she felt certain looked idiotic and then moved back from the fire to give him plenty of room to set up the spit. And to put some distance between her and a far too handsome man, she thought ruefully, silently accepting her own cowardice.
It troubled her that he could make her feel like some innocent maid who was caught up in her first time of flirting with a man. While it was true that she had had little experience with such games before marrying, she was now a woman who had been married for five years, betrayed, and widowed. She should be long past such blushes and flutters.
“Do ye ken how to cook it?” he asked.
“Aye. All the women in my clan learn how to cook. ’Tis believed it helps in kenning what is going on in the kitchens of the house the woman may rule one day, or if she weds a mon who cannae really afford such help,” she replied, and then quickly shut her mouth, afraid that she was beginning to babble.
“A verra wise thing to do. I will leave ye to it for I need to clean up.”
Arianna was astonished at how difficult it was for her to keep her full attention on cooking the rabbit as he walked away. She had never had any compelling urge to watch men so closely before. At times she had paused to appreciate a handsome face or a tall, strong body, but only for a glance or two. A part of her, however, was eager to closely watch Sir Brian MacFingal, to gaze for a long time at the way his tall strong body moved, the way his long, thick black hair gleamed in the light, or how his eyes lightened and darkened with his changing moods.
He did have a very handsome face, she mused. It was a strong face, its hard lines almost predatory when he was angry yet quickly softened by a smile. Those thickly lashed, dark blue eyes and the slight fullness to his lips softened the harshness of his features as well, but she had seen how fierce he could look when she had told him that Amiel and the DeVeaux wanted to kill the boys. It was that look that had prompted her to trust him with the lives of her boys. Her doubts about trusting the man were only faint ghostly twinges now, perhaps because her heart knew she had made the best decision for the survival of her boys.
She did not like being away from her boys, detested not knowing how they fared, yet was certain they would be protected. Just as she was certain she would be protected, that this man would do his best to get her somewhere safe and reunited with Michel and Adelar. That the occasional doubt she had did not linger puzzled her. It also worried her. She did not appear to be holding fast to her vow to be more wary, more cautious, about whom she put her
“This may help to fill our bellies,” Brian said as he entered and held up a rabbit readied for the spit.
Arianna stared at the catch in wide-eyed surprise. “I didnae think ye were gone long enough to go hunting.”
“Didnae hunt it. Ill-fated creature hopped right into the midst of the horses. Fortunately, I am verra good at throwing a knife.” He set the rabbit down and pulled a clever collection of iron rods from the pack, which he swiftly set up as a spit above the fire. “My brothers willnae be pleased that I took the pack with this in it.” He winked at her and grinned. “It is a highly prized tool for one’s travels.”
A blush heated her cheeks and her heart actually beat faster in her chest, as Arianna reeled a little beneath the heady power of that smile. He is kin, she reminded herself firmly, but herself was all too quick to also remind her of the very tenuous connection of the MacFingals to the Murrays, despite his brother’s marriage to her cousin. She had a lot of cousins. Arianna just nodded in a way she felt certain looked idiotic and then moved back from the fire to give him plenty of room to set up the spit. And to put some distance between her and a far too handsome man, she thought ruefully, silently accepting her own cowardice.
It troubled her that he could make her feel like some innocent maid who was caught up in her first time of flirting with a man. While it was true that she had had little experience with such games before marrying, she was now a woman who had been married for five years, betrayed, and widowed. She should be long past such blushes and flutters.
“Do ye ken how to cook it?” he asked.
“Aye. All the women in my clan learn how to cook. ’Tis believed it helps in kenning what is going on in the kitchens of the house the woman may rule one day, or if she weds a mon who cannae really afford such help,” she replied, and then quickly shut her mouth, afraid that she was beginning to babble.
“A verra wise thing to do. I will leave ye to it for I need to clean up.”
Arianna was astonished at how difficult it was for her to keep her full attention on cooking the rabbit as he walked away. She had never had any compelling urge to watch men so closely before. At times she had paused to appreciate a handsome face or a tall, strong body, but only for a glance or two. A part of her, however, was eager to closely watch Sir Brian MacFingal, to gaze for a long time at the way his tall strong body moved, the way his long, thick black hair gleamed in the light, or how his eyes lightened and darkened with his changing moods.
He did have a very handsome face, she mused. It was a strong face, its hard lines almost predatory when he was angry yet quickly softened by a smile. Those thickly lashed, dark blue eyes and the slight fullness to his lips softened the harshness of his features as well, but she had seen how fierce he could look when she had told him that Amiel and the DeVeaux wanted to kill the boys. It was that look that had prompted her to trust him with the lives of her boys. Her doubts about trusting the man were only faint ghostly twinges now, perhaps because her heart knew she had made the best decision for the survival of her boys.
She did not like being away from her boys, detested not knowing how they fared, yet was certain they would be protected. Just as she was certain she would be protected, that this man would do his best to get her somewhere safe and reunited with Michel and Adelar. That the occasional doubt she had did not linger puzzled her. It also worried her. She did not appear to be holding fast to her vow to be more wary, more cautious, about whom she put her