Page 52

“Whatever ye’re cooking, I verra much like how ye do it.”

A pleasant shiver ran through Kate where he touched her. “A surprise. From home.”

“As long as ye’re eating with me…”

“Oh, I am. I’m suddenly so homesick, nothing will do but the food. Why don’t you get us a bottle of wine?”

“Oh, aye. I’ll put water to boil for bathing and set the table, dinna fash yerself.”

He set to work bringing fresh water from the well and pouring it into the cauldron. A short time later, Kate held a plate loaded with medieval burgers. They were essentially sandwiches, but not bad considering the conditions. Who knew that after eight years of grilling dozens of burgers every day, Kate would be craving them?

She took the plate into the great hall.

Outside, night had already settled in, and the windows glowed indigo. Candles and flowers decorated the lord’s table: bright-yellow marigolds, purple thrift, and white flowers she didn’t know the name of. Plates and cups and a clay jug were already on the table. Ian stood up as she walked in.

Kate’s heart thundered against her ribs as she set the plate of burgers on the table. This was like a date. A romantic, candlelit dinner date with a hot Highlander in a medieval castle.

Well, technically, Dundail wasn’t a castle. But that didn’t matter. Anything would be romantic, as long as Ian was by her side.

Oh God, if this was a date, she shouldn’t be in an apron, wearing a torn-and-dirty dress, with hair that looked like a crow’s nest. Kate wiped her hands against the apron and untied it. She put it on a bench, then took her seat by Ian’s side.

“Sorry, I look like hell,” she said. “You deserve a romantic dinner with a lady.”

Ian was staring at her without blinking. In the light of the candles, his face was relaxed and full of wonder. His brown eyes were warm, his red hair ablaze from the light. Kate studied the thin scar crossing the edge of his left eyebrow, the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, the cut that started just above his bristle.

God, he was handsome. Handsome, and kind, and so wounded. Kate was torn between the urge to kiss every inch of his face while cuddling in his arms and the desire to listen to his heartbeat to make sure he was real.

“Ye’re the only person in the world I want to share my evening meal with, Katie,” he said. “And ye’ve never been more bonnie than ye are now.”

Warmth rushed to Kate’s cheeks, and she looked away, unable to meet the heat in his eyes. She exhaled sharply and smiled, picking up the plate with the burgers and offering it to him.

“Try this. It’s from my homeland. I make these every day.”

Ian chuckled softly and looked at the dish.

“I would have gladly skipped the meal, lass, as I am much more famished for something else.” He picked up a burger, while Kate’s face heated even more. “But I canna say nae to yer cooking. Especially since this came from yer home.”

He put the burger on his plate and waited for her to take hers. Then he raised his cup.

“To home,” he said. “’Tis nae the house that makes a home but people…a person.”

Kate’s smile fell as she thought about what he said. Was her apartment in Cape Haute really her home? Did her sister and her nephew make it so? Because it wasn’t the building or the restaurant or the investors. She gazed at Ian.

Despite the short time she’d spent here, and despite the fact that she was a complete stranger in this land and this time, a feeling of home settled in her chest when she looked at him.

“To home,” she echoed.

They clunked their cups and drank. The wine was sourer than what she was used to in her time, and it was probably diluted with water, but it would go nicely with the burgers.

Ian lifted his burger and bit into it, chewed, and nodded. “Aye, lass, ye’ve outdone yerself again. ’Tis delicious.”

Blazing from the compliment, Kate bit into her own burger and chewed. Yes, not bad. The bread was a bit rough and tasted sour as any rye bread, but the meat had good flavor after being grilled over the coals, and the cheese was just the right combination of creamy, sour, and salty.

“These are even better with beef,” she said through a mouthful.

“I will slaughter a cow for ye if ye make these every day,” he said.

She chuckled. “Actually, I do make them every day back home.”