’Twas all she could say ... and it was but a whisper beneath her breath. Stunned by Barra’s audacity, Meggie remained rooted to the spot, unable to move as she felt the blood drain from her head. He belched. Certainly, she must have misunderstood. “What say ye?” Her mouth had gone dry, tasting quite like she had just swallowed a bushel of straw. And while her body might be immobilized, her brain was not. A jumble of scenarios passed through her mind. None of them good. Setting down her candle, Meggie squared her shoulders and hitched up her chin. There was nothing to it but to confront him, here in the corridor between her chamber and the poet’s. Barra stood less than six feet away. With one arm he braced himself against the wall. Drunken desire glazed his eyes. Meggie chose her words carefully, seeking to soothe him, the wild beast. “You’ve had too much to drink this night, Barra.” “Aye?” “Aye,” she said, advancing on him, attempting to conceal her trepidation.
