AS THE PIPER marched slowly into the room, his fingers moving deftly over the chanter of the bagpipes, Nia managed to keep smiling. But inside, she was reeling at Farlan’s words.
Given how it had ended between them, she had expected him to be distant with her. But the fact that he had been willing to see her at all had given her hope that time might have diminished his hostility.
She’d been wrong.
His attack had been so swift, so bitter, so unfair, it had left her breathless.
Tom held out his arm. ‘Would you do me the honour, Nia?’
She nodded mechanically. ‘Of course.’
Diane and Farlan followed them, and she was so conscious that he was there, behind her, that she forgot where they were going.
They stood behind their chairs and she felt a buzzing in her ears as she saw that she was seated opposite him. Feeling slightly sick, she waited as the piper finished playing, and then joined in the applause round the table.
‘Great job.’ Tom was grinning like a small boy. Turning round, he shook hands with the piper. ‘You think maybe you could give me a couple of lessons?’
Nia barely heard the reply. She was too busy trying to make sure that her face was giving away none of the feelings that were turning her inside out.
It should be easy—she had lived most of her life hiding her thoughts from her parents—but Farlan had been the first person to bother looking beneath the surface. He had made it easy for her to talk, for her to be herself. And that was why having to close herself off to him had been so hard, and hurt so much.
Tom solemnly read the Selkirk Grace, and then it was time to eat.
The meal started with a traditional cock-a-leekie soup.
‘That is the best darn soup I’ve ever eaten,’ Tom said, laying down his spoon.
Nia nodded. ‘I don’t know anyone else who can turn a chicken and some vegetables into something so sublime. Molly calls herself a cook, but I actually think she’s an alchemist.’
Farlan leaned back in his chair, his green eyes glittering in the candlelight.
‘That probably says more about you than her,’ he said softly.
‘What do you mean?’ Her face felt warm and she knew that her cheeks were flushed.
‘Look at all of this.’ He gestured towards the gleaming cutlery. ‘Everything you own is gilded, Lady Antonia. Why should the food you eat be any different?’
His eyes locked onto hers and she felt ice tiptoe down her spine.
‘You more than anyone should know that there’s no place for base metals at Lamington,’ he added.
He was smiling, so that it looked and sounded as if he was teasing her, but she could hear the edge in the voice.
Her mouth was bone-dry. ‘I just meant that in my opinion Molly is modest about her talents.’
‘In your opinion?’ He held her gaze. ‘It’s good to know you have one.’
She swallowed past the lump in her throat as he turned towards Diane and began asking about the house.
After that he avoided speaking to her directly. Not that he made it obvious. In fact, he was so subtle about it she was pretty sure Tom and Diane hadn’t actually noticed.
Somehow when he spoke he made it seem as though he was including all of them in his stories and jokes, expertly directing the flow of conversation so that she was simply required to nod and smile.
It might feel organic to everyone else, but she knew he was pulling the strings, that he had already planned this scene in his mind, and now it was just playing out under his critical green gaze.
Probably that was why he was such a successful director.
As if on cue, the piper returned to a roar of approval from Tom, and this time he was followed by Molly, carrying the haggis on a silver-gilt platter.