Page 25 of To Wed a Laird (English Brides and Highland Vows #1)
They chatted and reminisced for a while, and several times Edina caught Lady Eleanor gazing at her in a speculative manner. She always shifted her gaze immediately as soon as Edina looked at her, however. It was most odd, she thought.
When she was able to bathe and make herself ready for dinner, she could not have been more thankful, since she felt she might nod off if she had to make polite conversation for one moment longer.
When she was clean and dressed, she took a quick glance at herself in the mirror.
Like an artist who can never be satisfied with her own work and keeps correcting it, she knew she would constantly find fault with her own appearance if she examined it for too long.
Her charcoal grey velvet dress fitted perfectly and was modest and practical.
If no one fell to their knees in admiration, then so be it.
She only had one person to please, and that was herself.
Edina pasted a smile on her face as the door to the dining room was opened for her by a uniformed manservant.
She felt unaccountably nervous, thinking of a certain person’s reaction when he beheld her.
However, she was not going to meet a crowd of strangers to be that anxious.
It was only her parents, the Laird, and Lady?—
Her mouth almost dropped open at the sight of Lewis as he rose to his feet and bowed to her. Gone was the awkward, gangly boy she remembered; she had adored him then, but there was much, much more to love now.
He was tall, much taller than she could ever have imagined he would become, with broad shoulders and powerful-looking muscles that spoke of hours of hard work.
The rounded contours of his boyish face had given way to an angled jaw, high sloping cheekbones and full, firm lips.
His eyes were still the same warm light brown, although they looked out at her from under thick brows that were the same shape as birds’ wings, and his auburn hair hung, thick and wavy, to his shoulders.
So astonished was she by the sight of him that for a moment Edina could not move. He came around the table and pulled a chair out for her, breaking her out of her trance.
“Edina, it is good to see you,” he said, without a hint of a smile on his face. “You look well.”
The words were polite, but not friendly; it was the kind of welcome one would give to a distant acquaintance, not a good friend.
“Thank you,” she replied, smiling valiantly. “So are you. How did your meeting with the tenants go?”
“Same as always,” he answered, shrugging, before he sat down and turned his attention to his food.
“Now tell us about some of your exploits!” The Laird, unlike his son, had bright blue eyes that were warm with kindness. “Did you learn any new languages?”
“I polished up my Gaelic a bit, M’Laird” she replied, “and I speak French now. I am not sure I could converse with a native, though. Latin too, although I have noticed there is not a big demand for it here in the Highlands.”
There was a chorus of laughter at her remark, but Edina noticed that Lewis did not join in, instead choosing to concentrate on his food and keeping his eyes on his plate. Then he looked up and for a few seconds their gazes met.
Despite herself, Edina felt an almost primal attraction to Lewis.
He was so potently male. If they had been deer in the forest, he would have been the biggest stag ready to fight and defend his females against any rivals, and she doubted if any of them had stood a chance against him.
She knew she should have expected him to grow and change, but not into this potent specimen of raw masculinity.
“And did you learn to play a musical instrument?” Laird Findlay asked keenly. “Because we have a piano here, but I am afraid I do not have a musical bone in my body.”
“And my singing would make the hunting dogs break out in a collective howl,” Lady Eleanor said regretfully, shaking her head.
Again, everyone but Lewis laughed.
“Yes, I did learn to play the piano, M’Laird” she answered. “I was forced to take singing lessons, but I will not inflict the unfortunate result on your ears.”
This caused another wave of mirth.
She flicked a sideways glance at Lewis, who looked up from his plate straight into her eyes. Still, he did not smile; in fact, he said nothing at all, and Edina felt a prickle of anger beginning inside her. He might not be amused by her sense of humour, but surely a slight smile would not kill him?
“I learned many more ordinary, down-to-earth things too,” she said. “Things I would like to share with the children in the village and the castle. It has been my dream to start a little school for them, if you ever agree, M’Laird.”
“I doubt they will thank you for it,” Lewis said sourly.
“Lewis!” His mother was shocked.
The Laird only frowned and asked, “I take it you are enjoying your pheasant, Son?”
“It is very tasty,” Lewis replied as he wiped his lips before positioning his fork over his meat again.
However, he looked up as his father asked, “Have you nothing to say to Edina? She has spent a long time away from us, and now she is back. Have you nothing to ask her, and this time, would it hurt you to be a little more civil?”
Lewis looked startled. He had been keeping his head down and minding his own business all this time.
But, suddenly, his father’s piercing blue eyes were staring into his with such an obvious threat in them that he was sure everyone around the table could see it.
He was familiar with that stare, and it usually presaged a towering rage that would only show itself properly when there was no one to witness it.
Lewis’s father was a gentle man, but like everyone else, he had two sides.
“I apologise,” Lewis said, politely but coldly. For a few seconds, he seemed lost for words. “Did you enjoy Inverness?”
Edina forced a smile. “Indeed I did. It is a fascinating place,” she answered nervously, but soon she regained her control.
“Do you know there is supposed to be a monster there? Dozens of people claim to have seen it. But seriously, I learned how to find my way around Inverness and how to sew and knit my own clothes, even though I doubt they are skills I will ever need.
I met so many people, lovely ordinary people, and I realised that we are all the same, and that is why I want to be useful to them. I would like to teach the children to read and count, and I would like to tell them stories!”
Edina did not realise how passionate she sounded until her father, Roy McCarthy, who was sitting beside her, patted her hand.
“You look inspired, Edina,” he said softly.
“I feel that way,” she told him, smiling.