Page 13 of Laird Of Her Heart

But again, probably a lie.

Or a fantasy.

Maybe she was touched.

Oh, he didn’t like that prospect in the slightest, but he did have to consider it.

After all, flying fish?

Maggie sighed. “I’m enjoying this interrogation and all, but would you mind so terribly much giving me something to eat while you barrage me with questions?”

“I’m hardly barraging you.”

“I haven’t eaten in hours. I’m starving.”

She didn’t look as though she was starving—far too many curves for that—but there was no denying the growl from the general region of her belly. Dominic nodded to Declan. “Bring her a slice of the venison.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Bambi?”

Ironically, Declan’s nose wrinkled too. “I doona want to leave you alone with her. She could be dangerous.”

Dominic glanced at her, the tiny wee thing. He knew she had no weapons on her; Ewan had found nothing but a strange metal tube in her pocket when he’d checked for them. And she was…small. Delicate. Feminine. “She’s no’ dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m very dangerous,” she gusted. “I know jiu jitsu.”

Declan shot her a frown, then turned it on Dominic. “I’m hardly a serving boy.”

“I know that. But I would verra much appreciate it if you could bring our guest something to eat. Before she collapses again.”

She set her hand on her stomach and arranged her features in a pleading moue. “I am verra hungry.”

“Well, hell.” Declan glared at both of them and stomped from the tent.

“My,” Maggie said, staring after him. “He’s grumpy.”

Dominic tried not to chuckle. Declan was grumpy. Moody and dour. But he was one of the fiercest warriors Dominic knew, and he loved him very much. Enough to overlook his disposition. “You understand why he is suspicious of you, do you no’? You come to us wearing the colors of our enemies at a time when hostilities are high—”

“Hostilities were always high between the Macintoshes and the Camerons,” she said.

Something prickled at his nape. “Were?”

“Um, always have been?”

He sat back and studied her, his mind awhirl. The Macintoshes and the Camerons had not always been at odds. The feud had begun only recently, with the convocation of the Chattan Clans. When Torquil Cameron had been excluded from the discussions. But he was an ornery bastard. Hot tempered and rash. “So you know of the disputes between our clans in Seattle? It is written in this book?”

She nodded.

“And what else does the book contain?”

A flush rose on her cheeks. “Well, lots of stuff.”

“Such as?”

“History. The lines of kings. Lairds. Battles. I know that Dar came to the Macintoshes through William the Lion in 1155. The lands were expanded through an alliance with the Shaws in 1214. There was a kerfuffle in 1281 when King Alexander died and Clan MacBain tried to claim the land. And then in 1291—”

She broke off and glanced at him. Her flush deepened.

“In 1291?”