Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

she care what that ass thought?  One odd kiss couldn’t change the facts.  To him she was nothing but a prisoner.  To her, he was an escape route.  Nothing more.  She should try to remember that, but damn, it smarted to know that a man she found so irresistible thought her no more attractive than department store mannequin.

“I think what my brother is trying to say it that any laird, like the Lindsay, for example, would take it as a sign of his wealth and affluence to see that all those under his care reflected his ability to keep them hearty and hale,” Rhys explained.  “Certainly his lords and ladies, if no’ others in his clan, would be… er… robust enough to demonstrate his wealth.  Ye ken?”

Scarlett blinked once, then twice before it dawned on her.  Looking about the room, Scarlett noticed the few women who were carrying more platters and pitchers to the hall.  To a one, they were all plump with ample bosoms and a broad backside.  So Rhys was saying…?

That was how they displayed their wealth?  Hanging their money up on the wall for everyone to see?  Putting more jewels on a golden goblet than was tasteful?  Having a little extra padding on their women?  So, if you were too thin, everyone would assume you either didn’t have the money to keep food on the table or you were too sick for a long while to eat?  Well, that was interesting.

And it would certainly explain why men of their station were used to women who were more than a handful.  Even if she was burned as a result.  “I didn’t realize why y’all were finding me so unattractive.  I think I understand better now.”

“’Struth, I think yer a bonny lass no matter what yer size,” Laird said gruffly, surprising her.  And himself, if the look on his face was any indication.

“Uh, thanks.”

Jaw clenched, he turned away abruptly, leaving them at the head of the table to take a seat on one of the benches farther down the U.  Scarlett watched him go, her heart beating just a touch faster than his swift strides.

He was still an ass, of course.

Maybe not a full-on asshole.

Still, an ass nonetheless.

“What’s gotten in to him, do ye suppose?” Rhys recalled her attention as he dropped down in a chair next to her, his eyes twinkling with suggestive humor.

“You mean that isn’t normal?” Scarlett countered.  “I haven’t seen him as any other than the bully he is,” she added, lying blithely.

“Bully?” he repeated, taken aback.  “He… uh, he hisnae mistreated ye, has he, lass?  Despite his aura of savagery, Laird isnae normally one to do harm.  He held ye throughout our entire journey yesterday like a bairn in his arms even after I offered to take ye.  If I had thought he might…”

“Relax, Rhys,” she said, patting his arm.  Laird had held her all day?  Who was this man who could distrust so completely yet show such caring for her?  “I’m fine.  I’m not scared of him.  I just don’t trust him.  Or you, for that matter.  No offense.”

“None taken.”  The concern fled his eyes to be replaced by his usual good humor. “To be fair, we dinnae trust ye either.  Be ye Lindsay or spy.”

“Or neither,” she pointed out.

“So the fact that we will be invading England through Berwick-On-Tweed rather than Newcastle would be of nae interest to ye?”

“I only asked because I was curious,” she told him.  Searching her small inventory of historical facts, the name struck no chords however.  “But no, it doesn’t tell me anything I didn’t already not know.  I’d ask you to put aside your suspicions but I guess it would be hypocritical of me to get mad about you not trusting me.  I don’t think I’ve ever been able to trust anyone in my entire life, wondering if they have a hidden agenda.”

“Is yer life so filled with intrigue?” he asked curiously, nodding absently to the flirtatious maid who was placing a wooden trencher on the table between them.  With a pout, she turned away without ever gaining his notice.  “Sounds like a life at court.”

“I wouldn’t know much about that but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yer a curious lass, Scarlett Thomas.  I maun say that I admire yer fortitude.  Ye’ve been captured and made a prisoner, taken half way across Scotland and still ye retain yer sass.”

Her lips twisted wryly.  “What did you expect me to do?  Curl up in the corner and cry like a baby?”

“Most ladies would.”

“Yes, but I am not most ladies.”

“Nay, yer no’.  I’m eager to learn more about what gives ye such brass,” Rhys said, biting back a grin as Scarlett’s stomach growled loudly. “But why no’ eat something first to help ye regain yer health?”

Why didn’t she?  Scarlett looked at the abundance of food spread and waiting on the table before them.  In this time and in this place, she didn’t need to worry any more about what she was eating than she did about what she wore.  No one here would care if she gained a pound.  From their comments and critical looks, they probably wouldn’t mind if she gained ten.

She could do something crazy because there was no one here to see her do it.

She could stuff herself without conjecture over her eating habits or kiss a man without rampant speculation regarding her love life.

Scarlett cast a look down the table to find Laird watching her solemnly and felt yet another uncharacteristic blush warming her cheeks.  It was a good thing she didn’t react so openly in her time.  The press would have had a field day!

But there was no press here.  No paparazzi.

The sixteenth century was suddenly looking pretty darn good so why not make the most of it?  Besides, for the first time eating organic would probably present no problems.

Then Rhys provided a temptation too great to deny.  Taking a small loaf of bread from one of the platters, he split it