Page 75 of Blood of the Thistle

“Aye.”

She glanced along the table, suddenly wondering if there was some order to the seating that she couldn't possibly know. “Are you sure? I don't want to take someone's place.”

“Ye are my guest,” he said simply. “Your place is here.”

Your place is here.

Of course he meant the chair, and nothing more.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and sat.

Bram took the chair beside her, close enough that his arm nearly brushed hers as he settled himself, and Anna immediately became aware of how different this felt from sharing the saddle with him. For days she'd had no choice but to endure his body behind hers for hours at a time while pretending the intimacy of it meant nothing. Here there was some space available that she could move away if she wished. So she did, only slightly, arranging the unfamiliar folds of her skirt and turning her attention to the table, focusing on the assortment of food that had already begun appearing in bowls and upon wooden platters.

She saw dark loaves of bread, wedges of pale cheese, roasted meat she couldn’t immediately identify, cooked greens, something mashed and steaming in a broad pottery dish, and another thick mixture being ladled into bowls farther along. She recognized enough to know she wouldn’t leave hungry, which after weeks without a proper meal was really all she required of supper.

A burst of laughter drew her attention toward the crowded tables below.

For several moments she simply watched.

She had assumed—she wasn’t sure why, but blamed films and television as her only reference—that supper would be some stiff, formal affair filled with rules she didn't know and people waiting for her to embarrass herself. Instead, the hall possessed the comfortable disorder of an enormous family gathering. People called across tables to one another in Gaelic. Children squeezed between adults on crowded benches. Cups and platters traveled from hand to hand, while dogs stationed themselves strategically beneath whichever person seemed most likely to drop something. Near one of the hearths, two older men appeared to be conducting an increasingly animated disagreement that nobody else found alarming enough to interrupt.

Anastasia leaned slightly toward Bram before she remembered she wasn't supposed to be leaning toward Bram.

“Who are all these people?”

He held her gaze, the blue of his eyes startling even in the dim light. “The folk of Craig na Coille.”

“Yes, I gathered that much.” She lowered her voice. “But do they all live in the castle?”

“Nae.” His expression lightened. “Some within the walls. Most in the village or upon the lands nearby.”

“But why are they all here?”

Bram looked momentarily puzzled by the question. “ʼTis supper.”

“You mean they all come here to eat?”

“Many do.”

“Every night?”

“When there's food enough and folk have cause.”

Anastasia glanced again across the hall. “Oh, wait—is tonight special because of your return?”

“Mayhap there are a few more souls in attendance because of that.”

There was a trace of amusement in his voice, and Anastasia turned toward him, surprised by it.

“A few?”

One corner of Bram’s mouth lifted. “They’ve nae had much cause for celebration of late. I expect they mean to make use of what they’ve been given.”

The evasion made her smile. Bram apparently had no intention of admitting that the crowded hall had anything to do with him, but the warmth in his expression made it difficult to tease him about it. And for the first time in days, talking to him felt easy again. There was no careful distance in his voice, no deliberate coolness, and Anastasia felt herself responding to the change before she could guard against it.

“I might guess you’re even happier to be home than they are to have you?” she ventured.

“Aye, pleased I am.” His eyes returned to hers, and something inside her warmed at the simple answer, for the warmth she heard in his words. She had wanted this for him, through all those miserable miles north, through every cold night and impossible obstacle, she had wanted to see him safely home. She’d wanted to see it with him, she understood. Now he was here, surrounded by his family and his people, clean and whole and looking at her with something of the familiar warmth she had missed these last days.