A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 6

The disheveled duchess drew nearer to the fire and sniffed appreciatively. Calen took the skillet from the fire, split a biscuit, placed two slices of bacon inside it and offered it to Micara.

She took it, seeming surprised that he found it possible to be courteous.

Micara began nibbling her biscuit, taking care to chew each tiny bite as delicately and ladylike as if she were dining with royalty. If she thought her propriety would inspire Calen, she was wrong. He devoured his own biscuit in three bites, fixed another, and polished that one off too.

Micara wrinkled her nose at his manners.

He paused long enough to pour himself some coffee and surprised Micara yet again when he was polite enough to offer some to her ass well; he even offered sugar when she accepted the coffee.

Micara felt the need to at least attempt civil conversation. "It certainly is cool this morning, do you suppose it will warm up?"

Calen sipped his coffee, grunted, and fixed yet another biscuit. "If it does, it does."

Micara pursed her lips. Obviously this Scot had not been educated in the art of conversation. She tried again. "I haven't seen Mr. Tuckett about, surely there is nothing wrong, is there?"

"No."

Micara frowned. Did this man even know how to converse? She tried once more, determined to be civil. "When, pray tell, are we to continue our journey?"

Calen shrugged nonchalantly. "We'll leave when were ready."

Micara blew out a breath of air in a huff. "Sir," she said in an agitated voice, "if it has escaped your notice, I am trying to begin a somewhat pleasant conversation. It is customary that both parties of the conversation contribute to the dialogue."

"Is that so?" he queried disinterestedly, lifting his pewter cup of coffee to his lips once again.

"Yes it is so! And if this is the extent of your communication, I pity your wife for the lack of your verbal skills. Maybe if you possessed any civility, you would learn that a person's place in society is largely focused on the behavior and interactions of that person with the other members of society. Your poor wife must exhaust herself trying to make up for your lack of social grace. The poor woman..."

Calen interrupted loudly. "Woman! Have you ever thought that if you would hold yer tongue for a moment, then maybe the other "party" could get a word in edge wise? Or maybe a man would like to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee in the mornin' without having to make conversation with a prideful princess?"

Micara's chin dropped in shock, but Calen wasn't finished. "And for the record, I am not married, but let me assure you that if I were, you would not be permitted to say such things about my wife."

He stood from the fire after pulling the pan from the flames. "And as for a person's place in society, my civility is not the problem, Your Ladyship." He emphasized the two last words, taking the last two biscuits and pan of bacon with him as he headed down to the river.

Micara sat down by the fire, staring sulkily into the flames as she warmed herself against the chill of the early morning.

After a few moments, Will appeared over the river bank. "Calen is ready to leave Ma'am, as soon as you are ready, we'll go."

"I'll be ready in a moment Will, I just need to repack those clothes," she said, gesturing to the clothes line.

Will went to the tent, "I'll get your trunk." He carried it to the clothesline before returning to the tent and beginning to disassemble it.