Page 31 of Warrior’s Lady

"Can I interest you in a bite to eat?" He held up a small plank of wood that contained a wedge of yellow-gold cheese and a loaf of dark bread.

"Where did you find food? Not here, I hope," she commented as the image of that tiny mouse came to mind.

He smiled, a warm, friendly smile. "I made it a rule that the men are never to ride out anywhere without at least minimal provisions. The grooms are very conscientious about executing those orders. Sit," he patted the seat beside him. "You must be hungry."

"A little." She sat down as far from him as the wooden bench allowed and curled her feet up under her skirt.

His eyes glinted with amusement. He withdrew two mugs and a bladder from his saddle bag, unfastened the closure, then poured each of them an amber-colored beverage from within. He handed her a mug. "This should help to warm you."

She took a sip, then sputtered at the richness of the liquid as it flowed over her tongue. "What is this?" she asked in a raw voice.

"Ale. Using my own special blend of grains." He raised his mug to his lips and took a long, slow sip. "Last year's batch is the best yet."

Rhiannon frowned down into her cup. The bitter liquid would take some getting used to. But in the absence of anything else to drink, and so as not to seem rude, she took another sip. "Interesting."

He offered her a smile that lit up his eyes. Their depths became suddenly mysterious and inviting. She swallowed roughly. When had he stopped treating her as yesterday's pottage?

"Bread?" he asked offering her the tray of bread and cheese.

She accepted the tray and sliced a wedge of bread, then cheese, taking the opportunity to look away from him to gather her composure. She hadn't spent much time around men other than her father and his friends. Over the years, she'd convinced herself that all men were rough and brutish. But in this moment, Camden seemed very distant from her earlier assumptions.

Brutish men did not demand their men leave the stable with some sort of provisions in case something went wrong. They did not care about anyone's comfort but their own. And they certainly didn't risk their own lives for the sake of their people's safety. Suddenly nervous, Rhiannon drank liberally from her mug. The flavor of the brew seemed less bitter now. It was smoother, with hints of spice. "What is the spice in this? Cinnamon?"

"Nutmeg." His gaze became warm, sensual. "You are the first to ever observe that note."

"I've never heard of that spice," she confessed. "Where did you learn of such a thing?"

"A long time ago." Some of the warmth in his voice faded. He took a bite of his bread and cheese. "My father taught me what he knew about ale-making. He's the one who started growing the mixture of grains in our fields at Lee Castle. I think my love of the land and the castle itself is what prompted my brother James to build Lockhart Castle farther north. He didn't want to take the memories of our family from me."

She nibbled on her bread. "It sounds as though James loved you very much."

"He did."

She grew silent as she thought about her own youth. Memories of her mother filled her mind, and she smiled.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You reminded me of a pleasant time from my childhood."

He nestled back against the settee. "Tell me."

"Well," she hesitated.

"Your best memory."

She tucked her feet more firmly beneath her. "There was a time when my father and brothers were away hunting." She frowned at the sudden realization that they hadn't been hunting at all. That's when the raiding had begun, when they'd come home not with game, but with coins, salted pork, and gems — the spoils of their raid.

"Are you unwell?" he asked, his face filled with concern.

"Just remembering." She shook off the horror the memory brought. "I was Violet's age, maybe a little younger. There was snow on the ground, much like there is today. My mother and I were baking oatcakes, but I was bored. I kept asking her if we could do something special, like Father and the boys were doing. I kept after her until she finally relented and tossed her apron aside. She told me to go to my bedchamber and not to come out before she called me."

Rhiannon smiled at the memory of hiding under the bedcovers, shivering with anticipation. "It seemed like forever until she came for me. But I'll never forget the glint in her eyes when she did. She tied a sash over my eyes, put my cloak and my pattens on me, then led me outside."

She drew a shaky breath as tears came to her eyes. "She took the sash off my eyes and all I could see were a hundred candles, casting a rich golden glow over the snowbanks that lined the ice on our pond. She pulled me onto the ice, and we both skated in circles for hours and hours, laughing until our sides hurt. She looked down at me that day with such love in her eyes and I knew true joy."

Rhiannon swiped at one of the tears that trailed down her cheek. "Three days later she died."

"How?" His voice was soft, lulling.