Free A Year & a Day by Virginia Henley

whispered urgently. "We must get rid of him!"
    Then Jock Leslie took the visitors into the castle and Jane and Megotta knew he would extend Dumfries' hospitality by inviting them to dine.
    "We'll go to the kitchens," Megotta decided. "We'll get rid of them one way or another."
    When Jane and her grandmother entered the kitchens through the rear door, the cooks were rushing about, stirring a cauldron of soup, testing the tenderness of a haunch of venison turning on a huge spit, putting round loaves into a massive baking oven, and throwing vegetables into boiling water.
    "I shall make the gravy," Megotta declared, just as Jock Leslie arrived in the vast kitchens.
    He took one look at Megotta and strode to her side. "Out of 56
     
    this kitchen now, woman! I'll have none of your malicious tricks today. Would you bring shame down upon our heads?" he demanded. Megotta's protestations of innocence fell on deaf ears. Jock knew the depth of his mother-in-law's hatred for outsiders. "Andrew," he admonished his son, who was steward-in-training, "I'm putting you in charge. Don't allow Megotta back in here under any circumstances!"
    After her grandmother left, Jane took herself off to a corner where she waited patiently until the food was ready to be served. Her emotions of fear and hatred were all tangled together, but of one thing she felt certain: the Norman was the more dangerous of the two visitors.
    Jane stepped forward as one of the cooks poured soup into a large tureen and laced it with cream and wine. "Andrew, may I serve the soup?" she asked sweetly.
    Her brother smiled at her. "Very well, Jane, but don't dawdle; it cools down quickly."
    As Jane entered the dining hall, her heart was in her mouth as each step took her closer to Dumfries' honored guests. She was amazed at her own temerity. Would she really have enough courage to carry out her plan? She felt all ashiver as she lifted the ladle to serve Robert Bruce. Her nerve failed her, as she bit her lip and poured his soup without spilling a drop. She glanced furtively at the tawny-haired man sitting beside him and her eyes focused on his lips. She shuddered, remembering the things his wicked mouth had done to her in the dream. She drew in a swift breath as she saw his gaze rise from her breasts to her hair and she saw the swift appraisal and the fierce look of desire that hardened his face. When his sensual mouth curved in a smile of invitation, her resolve hardened. Jane quickly tipped the tureen so that the rich soup cascaded into the man's lap.
    Lynx de Warenne jumped up immediately, thankful his leather tunic and chausses had prevented his being scalded. Like lightning his hand shot out to imprison the girl's wrist before she 57
     

A YEAR AND A DAY
    could escape. His angry green gaze swept over the girl with the brilliant hair."Who the devil are you?"
    "A Celt!" she said defiantly.
    "A little hellcat who needs taming, I think."
    "I am a sworn enemy to the evil English!"
    Jock Leslie, who had been bringing his guests the best wine Dumfries had to offer, rushed forward to try to undo the damage his daughter had done.
    "Who is this girl?" de Warenne demanded.
    "A clumsy serving wench, my lord." Jock was too embarrassed to acknowledge Jane as his daughter.
    "She's not clumsy in the least. That was no accident, it was done deliberately." De Warenne's eyes narrowed as he freed her wrist. He knew she'd like nothing better than to fly at him and scratch his face, but she did not dare. "I'd like to teach you manners," he said in a low, rough voice that told her clearly he'd like to do other things to her as well.
    "Leave the hall at once!" Jock ordered. "She will be punished, my lord."
    As the red-haired maid fled the hall, Robert Bruce spoke up quickly. "Allow me to apologize on behalf of all Celts. Our passionate natures get in the way of rational behavior sometimes."
    Lynx de Warenne couldn't help but laugh. He wouldn't mind pitting his own passionate nature against the