OH, my, she thought, going very still. Silvan might have looked at her breasts, but he'd looked at them as a man might eye a pretty flower or a well-bred mare.
Now, glancing down Nell's bodice, he wore an expression of pure hunger, a look both tender and fierce.
Gwen's smile faded and she stared, filled with a wistfulness she wasn't certain she even understood. But it had something to do with a man wanting breasts that were much older and not nearly as firm—all because of the woman they belonged to, not because of the breasts at all.
Silvan MacKeltar had deep feelings for his housekeeper.
She stole a furtive glance at Nell, who seemed oblivious to what Silvan was doing as she collected his mug and went back to the kitchen.
Silvan must have felt her gaze upon him, because he jerked slightly, as if coming out of a trance, and glanced at her.
"I wasn't looking at her breasts—" he began defensively.
"Save it for someone who didn't see the look on your face. And if you don't make any funny comments about me fluffing myself, I won't make any comments about what you feel for Nell."
"What I feel for—what I—" he sputtered, then nodded. "Agreed."
Gwen turned her attention to the platter of food, wondering why food tasted so much better in the sixteenth century. Was it the lack of preservatives? The smoky-peaty flavor of the meat? The genuine butter and cream? She slipped a knife beneath a soft poached egg and transferred it to her plate.
"So, why did you… er…" Silvan gestured toward her linen bib.
She sighed. "Because I thought Drustan might be at breakfast and I hoped he'd notice me."
"Notice you, or drag you off to tup you?"
"I might have settled for either," she said glumly, helping herself to another egg.
Silvan snorted with amusement. "Are you always so honest, m'dear?"
"I try to be. Dishonesty increases disorder exponentially. It's hard enough to communicate when you're telling the truth."
Silvan paused, his mouth halfway closed around a bite of poached egg. He withdrew the laden fork from his mouth carefully. "What did you just say?" he asked softly.
"Lies," Gwen said, her gaze on the thick slab of ham she was trying to spear with a misshapen fork. She pierced it with a tine, but it slipped off. "They increase disorder. Difficult to predict all the variables when you keep tossing more variables in." She glanced at him. "Don't you think?" she asked, with a nod for emphasis.
"Exponentially?" he asked, his brows furrowing together in a single point.
"Any positive consonant raised to a power," Gwen said, cornering the ham against the lip of the platter. "It's a function of math, used to express a large number. Like Avogadro's number, 6.023 X 1023 and represents the number of atoms in a mole of any substance—"
"Atom?"
"The smallest component of an element having the chemical properties of the element, consisting of a nucleus, containing combinations of neutrons and protons and one or more electrons—hey, maybe I shouldn't be telling you this!"
Silvan snorted. "I know of what you speak. 'Tis a hypothetical particle of matter so small to admit no division—"
No, no, no, no physics over breakfast! "Yes, but who cares? Look at this scrumptious food."
He sounded strained when he asked, "Do you play chess, m'dear?"
She brightened and, finally securing the ham, smiled. "Of course. Would you like to play?"
"On the terrace. In two hours, if you will."
Gwen beamed. Drustan's father wanted to spend time with her and play a game. She couldn't recall a time her father had ever done such a thing. Everything had been work-oriented, and the one time she'd coaxed him into a game of Pente, he'd gone off on how one could calculate every possible outcome…
She shook her head, pushing that memory far to the back of her mind, and eyed Silvan speculatively. Maybe, if Drustan had told him her story, she could work on him. Perhaps he might be more inclined to listen. Winning his support would definitely help.
All while sitting in the sun and playing…
* * * * *
"I don't usually show so much cleavage, Nell," Gwen poked her head in the kitchen and said apologetically to Nell's back. She had some time to pass before meeting Silvan and wanted to get better acquainted with Nell. She suspected the housekeeper probably knew everything that went on in the castle and might be a source of information regarding who might wish the MacKeltars harm. Plus, she didn't want Nell to think badly of her. Next time she bared so much, she would make sure it was for Drustan and only Drustan. Her breasts were now demurely tucked beneath her bodice.
Nell glanced over her shoulder. Flour dusted her cheek and brow, and she had her hands in a mountain of dough. "I dinna think ye did, lass," she said with a gentle smile. "Despite ye showin' up bare as a babe. I know oft-times a lass feels she has few choices. Ye needn't barter yerself for shelter and food. I suspect ye've more choices than yer thinkin' ye do."