“And then what, lass?” Acair asked gently.
Dwyn swallowed, and then said, “And then he climbed down and I continued to sit there for a while.”
“So, there was no—”
“Acair?”
Frowning, he broke off his question and glanced around.
Curious as to who had saved her from what she suspected might be an embarrassing question from a man she feared was far too discerning for her good, Dwyn glanced around as well and saw Lady Buchanan moving toward them. Once Jetta had their attention, she stopped walking, smiled crookedly at Dwyn, but then waved Acair over to her.
“Excuse me, lass. I’m needed, I guess,” Acair murmured, and stood to move to the pretty dark-haired lady.
Dwyn watched as the couple talked. She couldn’t hear much of what was said, but caught the name “Mavis,” and something about crying, and then Acair followed Lady Buchanan to the kitchens.
“Did ye lose yer beau?”
Dwyn turned to peer at Catriona at that taunt. Her sisters were down the table talking to their father, and Catriona and Sasha had slid closer, taking up the space again, she saw. Ignoring them, she turned to her food, but her appetite was suddenly gone.
“Well, cheer up, I’m sure he’ll return, and at least someone is interested in you,” Catriona said with a cruel gleam in her eye.
“Aye,” Sasha added, leaning around Catriona to add, “And an old Buchanan is better than no Buchanan. ’Tis certainly more than I expected ye to manage, Whinnie.”
“Ladies, a word. Please?”
Dwyn glanced around quickly at those sharp words from Aulay, but he wasn’t looking at her. His steely gaze was focused on Catriona and Sasha as he stood up.
For a moment, both women looked frozen, but then Catriona stood, dragging Sasha up by the elbow with her. “Of course, m’laird.”
Dwyn watched them go with wide eyes, and then noted that everyone was looking at her again. Flushing, she stood up as well.
“Where are they going?” Aileen asked, rushing back to her side.
“I do no’ ken. Laird Buchanan said he wanted to speak to them,” she said uncomfortably.
“Were they picking on ye again?” Una asked at once. “Did he hear?”
Dwyn shrugged helplessly, and started to move past them.
“Where are ye going?” Aileen asked with concern, catching her hand to stop her.
“To the garderobe,” Dwyn muttered, tugging her hand free and slipping away from the table. But she didn’t go to the garderobe. She bypassed the small door and weaved her way around to the keep doors instead.
Relief washed through her as she stepped out into the cool night air. She hated being the cynosure of attention, especially when she got the feeling she’d done something wrong but didn’t know what, and that was how she’d felt under the disapproving eyes of the people of Buchanan.
Shaking her head, Dwyn descended the steps of the keep, and then wandered around the side of the building to make her way back to the gardens behind the keep. More specifically, she was headed for her tree. That’s how she’d started to think of it. She’d climbed that tree three times now since arriving at Buchanan and it had served her well all three times. People never looked up. Dwyn had learned that years ago as a small child of five when she’d climbed her first tree. Her mother and the maids had looked for her for hours and she’d sat in the tree, watching, but never making a sound. Mind you, she’d got her bottom paddled when she’d finally made her way down and her mother had found her, but it hadn’t stopped her from climbing back up that tree the next time she wanted to escape whatever was happening in Innes.
Of course, Geordie had looked up this morning, but she suspected he must have seen her climb up first. A small smile curved her lips as she recalled that he’d offered to help her down. She could hardly believe the man she’d been talking to and who had kissed her was Geordie Buchanan. Dwyn shook her head at the thought, and recalled his surprise when she’d explained why the house was full of guests. He hadn’t seemed to know anything about what was happening, and she wondered now what he thought of the whole business of finding him a bride. She suspected not much since he wasn’t being very cooperative. The man had made himself scarce all day and then walked out of the great hall at dinner.
Dwyn couldn’t blame him. She wouldn’t like half a dozen or more men and their families showing up at Innes purely in the hopes that she’d pick them to husband. Her sisters would probably like that, but she wouldn’t. Dwyn liked a nice quiet life. She went about her business, doing what needed to be done and waving away any thanks or compliments she received for it. She didn’t do it for gratitude or to impress people; she just did what she felt should be done because it was her duty.
The sound of a door opening drew her to a halt as she rounded the back corner of the keep. Dwyn glanced warily toward the door, half expecting to see one of her sisters or both, or perhaps even Lady Catriona and Lady Sasha, rushing out in search of her. Spotting the small, dark-haired maid who stepped out with a basket in hand, she offered a smile and then left her to her business and started along the garden path toward the trees at the back.
Dwyn loved a garden in the evening. The sun was low in the sky, and darkness was falling, but she could still see well enough to avoid trampling on plants or vegetables. Once at the back, she turned into the trees, moving past the peach trees to the larger cherry trees beyond them. She glanced around quickly once she reached her tree, and then quickly scrambled upward, but came to an abrupt halt and nearly tumbled back down when she went to put her hand on a branch and felt soft leather rather than hard wood. It was only a firm hand catching her upper arm that kept her from a nasty fall.
“Careful, lass.”
Raising her head, Dwyn blinked at Geordie through the growing gloom and then hesitated. Like everyone else, she hadn’t looked up, she realized, or she surely would have realized her spot was occupied and would not have climbed up.
“I’m sorry, m’laird,” she said after a moment. “I did no’ realize anyone was up here. I’ll leave and—”
“Nay,” Geordie interrupted, urging her up with his hold on her arm. “Ye’re welcome to join me. It was yer tree first, after all.”
When she hesitated, undecided, he added, “I have food.”
Dwyn blinked in confusion at the words.
“Jetta sent one o’ the maids after me with a sack o’ food, but they packed enough bread, cheese, meat and peaches for two or three people,” he said with amusement. “Ye’re welcome to join me.”
That decided her. Dwyn loved peaches and she hadn’t eaten much at dinner, so she continued climbing until she could settle on the branch across from him. The very same branch she’d been on when he found her there earlier, she realized. And he was on the branch he’d claimed earlier too, she thought, and wondered if he’d kiss her again as she watched him untie a heavy sack that hung from a thick branch just above him.
“What would ye like first?” Geordie asked, setting the sack in his lap and opening it to peer inside.
“Whatever’s on top,” Dwyn said with a shrug, and watched as he reached in and pulled out a chicken leg. Smiling, she accepted the offering and took a bite as she watched him pull out a second leg for himself.