Page 61 of Dark Seduction

She had already reached that exact conclusion. “Thank you.”

His attention was diverted as two women began placing streaming trays of meat and fish on the table. Both men began to heap their trenchers with game and fish.

Claire was also diverted, for Malcolm and Royce were coming to sit down. Royce smiled at her. “Hallo a Chlaire.”

“Hallo a Rhuari,” she returned swiftly in Gaelic.

His smile widened as he sat down besides her. “Ciamar a tha sibh?”

Claire had heard this phrase several times since arriving in the past. She had also heard the response. “Tha gu math,” she said.

Royce grinned and Malcolm turned to stare. Royce murmured, “An’ you might also say, Tapadh leibh.”

He was flirting. Claire didn’t mind, and why would she? His chest rippled beneath the leine and his biceps bulged. Today he wore a huge, wide gold cuff on his left arm, one with a citrine cross in its center. Besides, maybe he was only half the chauvinist that Malcolm was. She might need an ally down the road. “Tapadh leibh,” she said.

He smiled, revealing the fact that he had dimples, too. “Ye have a fine ear, lass,” he murmured.

“Did you just ask me how I am?”

“Aye, and ye said, ‘Fine, thank ye kindly.’” His gray eyes were warm—too warm.

Malcolm sat down beside Ironheart, facing them, his gaze narrowed. He was not pleased.

“O’ course, if we be familiar,” he said softly, “I’d ask ye differently. Ciamar a tha thu?”

He was definitely flirting. And Malcolm was jealous. Claire was pleased. She also understood. She’d caught quite a bit of Gaelic in the past few days. “Tha gu math, tapadh…leat?”

Royce’s eyes gleamed. “Ye learn fast, lass.”

Malcolm slammed his fist on the table. “An’I’ll be the one teachin’ her now.”

Claire grinned, enjoying his primitive jealousy. There was an upside to medieval chauvinism. “But Ironheart has already offered to teach me how to fight with a dagger and a sword,” she said innocently, batting her lashes at him.

Ironheart choked.

Malcolm turned red. “Like hell. We already discussed this. Ye’ll wind up dead. I ken ye wish t’ fight the Deamhanain, Claire, but ye canna. Yer a woman, an’ a mortal one at that.”

Claire became dead serious. “Do you think I think I will succeed? But I have to try! My days are numbered—I know it. But I will do what I have to do. Which is why you must help me by teaching me what I need to know!”

Malcolm recovered his composure. “Lass. Yer too brave fer yer own good.”

He meant it and even though he was wrong, his praise moved her to no end. “Malcolm, I’m not brave. I’m afraid. But you need to try to see my side.”

“A warrior without fear be a very foolish man,” Malcolm said. “Men fight because they are strong. Women stay safe behind stone walls t’ bear their bairns. ’Tis the way o’ the world. If I can, when we are done here, I’ll find the Deamhan who murdered yer mother.”

He wasn’t going to even try to hear what she was saying, she thought. It took Claire a moment to respond. “Is it your vows? Do you think to protect me even when I leave because you swore to do so? Because when I go back, my life is my own.”

His jaw flexed. “I ha’ told ye again an’ again, I dinna wish to see ye dead.”

She reached across the table for his hand. “Do not get me wrong. I am grateful for the protection you have given me, Malcolm, I am. But it might take years to find the demon who killed my mom and you’re pretty busy right here in 1427.” She hesitated. “I know you’ll never understand me—what I want, what I need, what I have to do—or my world.” The comprehension hurt.

Anger entered his gray eyes. “Ah, lass, ye be arrogant again—annoyingly so!”

“You listen, but you refuse to hear a word I am saying!” she cried, upset as she realized the extent of the cultural gulf between them. “It’s not even the way of this world, Malcolm, because in a few years in France, Joan of Arc is going to lead her people in battle against her enemies. And in the time of your ancestors, women were great warriors, fighting alongside their men. In my time, women are soldiers. They go to war and they fight and die beside men.”

Malcolm said softly, dangerously, “As long as I can breathe, I will keep ye safe. ’Tis the vow I took t’ protect the Innocent and ye be my Innocent, Claire. Even when ye leave me, that canna change.”

She tensed, because he had spoken of her returning to her time in such a personal way. And she knew that she had come up against a brick wall. “There’s a bottom line. If you want to protect me until I die, I guess I can’t stop you. But my life belongs to me. If I want to avenge my mother, no one can stop me. Now that I know the truth, how can I sit back and do nothing? If that demon is alive, I have to try to avenge my mother. You would do the same damn thing for your mother.”