Angus had taken one bite, closed his eyes, sighed, then turned to Elgin and shouted, “Damn me, man! Ye’ve been aholdin’ back all this time! Ye cook like an angel! I’d swear ye had wings beneath yer plaid had I no witnessed ye swimmin’ naked in the loch last month and seen fer mesel’ that ye don’t!”

Everyone had backed up the compliment. Even Duncan had grunted and managed a reluctant “’S good,” for the man. Now Elgin stood waiting only for her remark.

Iliana managed to lift her dirk all the way to her mouth, closed her lips around the food, then dropped her hand with relief and sank back on the bench, releasing an “Mmmm” of pleasure, aware that Elgin was sagging with relief as she did.

Turning, she forced a smile to her tired lips and murmured, “’Tis finer fare than even my mother’s cook has ever supplied, Monsieur Cummin, and that is no small compliment. My mother is very particular about what is served and went all the way to France to bring back a cook she thought good enough to serve my father.”

The man beamed at that. Grinning and nodding, he finally took his seat at the table and began to eat. Iliana turned back to her plate with a sigh. Truly, it was wonderful. She only wished she could manage to eat, but she very much feared…

A shout of warning from one of the men made Duncan turn to glance at his wife. He was just in time to see her drop backward off the bench to land upon the now clean rushes on the floor.

Chapter Eight

“Ye’ve killed her!” Angus Dunbar roared.

Duncan glanced up from examining his unconscious wife to see that his father had risen to his feet and now stood glaring accusingly at the dismayed cook. “Nay, Da. She lives,” he said quietly. “’Sides, we are all eating what she did.”

The old man’s gaze moved to Iliana and worry plucked at his brow. “Well then, what the devil has happened? Is she ill?”

Kneeling at her mistress’s other side, Ebba pulled a pinch of some herb from the bag at her waist. Waving it beneath the unconscious woman’s nose, she sighed as Iliana stirred enough to turn her head away from the annoying smell.

“She’s fainted,” the servant announced grimly, lips tightening as she noted that Iliana’s face was flushed. Reaching out, she touched her lady’s heated skin.

“Why? What be the matter with the poor lass?” Angus asked gruffly, moving to stand behind the woman and peer over her shoulder at Iliana’s face.

“Work.”

The older man stiffened at that, eyebrows rising. “Work?”