thought you were short of food,â Duncan murmured as he helped Kara step over the bench.
âIn addition to thanking you for your quick thinking, we celebrate Samhuinn tonight.â
âThe feast of the dead?â Duncan said, appalled.
âWe prefer to think of it as the winter solstice. The day we bring our flocks to their winter folds and give thanks to all gods for the harvest. Still, Iâm surprised you know of it.â
âMy mother practiced the old ways.â
âYou do not approve.â
Another memory flickered through his mind. A bonfire at dusk, people dancing around it, eating, drinking and laughing. His parents, holding hands as they gazed into the fire. âI was taught to think such things unholy.â
âBy that dreadful cousin of yours?â
Â
âCousin Niall is a godly man.â If a bit overzealous.
Kara snorted. âToo much of a good thing can be bad.â
âI do not agree.â But he was beginning to question.
âIâve saved the best bits for you.â The huge man whoâd been by the door set a platter down on the table.
âDuncan, this is Black Rolly MacHugh.â
Duncan nodded. âYouâre not a Gleanedin, then?â
âIn spirit only.â He began heaping slices of roasted venison into Duncanâs bowl. âI was wed to Karaâs aunt.â
Duncan assumed sheâd died in a MacGory raid, but when Rolly had moved on to serve Fergus, Kara leaned over and confided that Annie Gleanedin MacHugh had died in childbed several years ago.
âBlack Rolly stayed on here. He was with Fergie when the MacGorys attacked and took a blow to the hip. Now his legâs stiff and nearly useless. So much suffering,â she said sadly, looking out over the crowded hall.
It was tiny compared with the great hall at Threave, the vaulted ceiling so low the battle banners hanging from it nearly brushed the heads of the diners. Poor and mean, Cousin Niall would have called it, for the rough-hewn timbers were soot streaked from the smoke of countless fires. But colorful woolen hangings brightened the stone walls, and the rushes underfoot smelled of fresh herbs.
To Duncan, the greatest difference was the people.
âYour clansmen have endured much,â he said. âBut their trials have neither broken nor embittered them.â Indeed, the folk of Edin bounded about like a brood of boisterous pups. They laughed and teased each other. They praised Black Rollyâs feast and devoured it with disarming relish. âNever have I seen people take so much enjoyment from a simple thing as eating.â
âLife can be harsh and short,â Kara explained. âWeâve learned to wring as much pleasure as possible from each moment that comes our way. The good times should be savored like sweet mead as a buffer against the troubles sure to come.â
Â
Duncanâs throat tightened. Heathens, heâd called them, yet their ideals were far more Christian than those of many a seemingly pious knight heâd met on Crusade.
âWhat troubles you?â She laid a hand on his arm.
The casual gesture jangled every nerve in his body, made him suddenly conscious of her leg pressed against his beneath the table, the subtle scent of her hair, the sheen of her skin in the torchlight. He knew exactly what caused his heightened awareness of Kara. A passion he should be ignoring. Unfortunately, he didnât want to. He wanted to sweep her from the hall, to take her away someplace dark and private. Someplace where he could act on the impulses that had plagued him from the first time heâd laid eyes on her.
âDuncan?â she asked softly.
âHmm.â He struggled to bring his mind back to the business at hand. Food. Eating. âThe meat is good.â
She chuckled. âThen why are you scowling at it?â
âI...â He stared into her upturned face, his mind veering down paths it had no
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