Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 7 - ***REVISED***

The tension flowed through the supping room in a current strong as a river. Breanne had prepared a meal of boiled potatoes, ham, and cabbage. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. She looked around the table, self-conscious about her first efforts at cooking a meal. The sound of forks clinking against plates, cups slamming back to the table; and chewing was about all that could be heard in the room. Breanne took up her own fork. The ham, which she'd found already smoked and wrapped in brown paper in one of the parcels, flavored the potatoes and the cabbage nicely; but after a few bites, she discovered that the boiling hadn't heated it all the way through. She sighed quietly, staring at her own plate as the others continued to eat.

"So, Lady Torrington," Glenda began, breaking the awkward silence. "Would ye' be so kind as to tell us all how ye' met my son?"

Breanne looked at Torrington's mother, grateful for the prospect of having conversation, yet suddenly feeling as uncomfortable as ever since all occupants at the table paused and focused all attention upon her. Breanne cleared her throat and took a quick sip of wine from her glass before responding.

"Please, call me Breanne. We met upon a ship," she answered, glancing about the table. Picking up a linen napkin, she dabbed the corners of her mouth. "I was departing from a holiday in the Colonies and happened to meet him on my return to England."

"Ah," replied Glenda, staring into the flickering candlelight. "Adam did love to travel. He told me that one day he would take me on a trip across the Atlantic," she reminisced, wistfully. Her thick hair was tied back into a low knot, barely brushing her shoulders. The candlelight cast a beautiful glow to her features, and she stared into the flame as she spoke.

Flecks of gold brightened her eyes, again, reminding Breanne of Adam. Glenda appeared to be in her mid-fifties with light streaks of silver woven in throughout her hair, and was still quite attractive. It was easy to see that the woman must have been a great beauty in her younger years.

"Yes," Breanne replied. "We both loved the idea of traveling. We'd planned to take a grand trip together just before he..." Breanne trailed off, and her eyes dropped to the burgundy floral patterns on the outer rim of the decorative plate; unable to finish the statement. "It's no matter," she finished, shaking her head. "I-"

"Wha' is no matter, lass? That my nephew is dead? Are ye' over his death so quick, then?" Lachlan's rough voice interrupted her thoughts and she paused, glancing from Glenda to him.

"Well," Glenda chimed in, tossing her brother a stern look. "Ye' still may travel. Already ye've seen the far Americas, and it's all the way across the sea you've come to settle here. In time, ye' may yet see all the rest of the world. Don't let loose of yer' dreams, lass."

Breanne quickly glanced at the woman whom she had begun to hope would be her ally. Lachlan, and even Nathair appeared fascinated with their meals and would not meet her eyes. Did Lachlan really believe that she viewed Torrington as of no consequence? She silently vowed to correct his viewpoint the next time she had a private moment with him.

"Yes," she responded, turning to Glenda. "I suppose you are right."

"Why did ye' never want to meet us, in all yer travels?" The question shot out from Colin. She turned her attention to the lanky boy whose size and stature at present already showed that he would grow into a large man. He kept his focus on his plate, twirling the strips of cabbage around with his fork. His hair hung low, covering over his face

"Colin, that's enough."

"No, please, I would really like to respond to him," Breanne told Glenda. She then returned her attention to Colin, who had glanced up at her when she spoke, but immediately stared at his plate when she returned her gaze upon him.