Chapter 27 #3
“What? Oh.” I roll my eyes, but turn around to give her some privacy.
There’s rustling, followed by a quick shriek.
“What happened?” I spin back around to find her with hands outstretched, her eyes wild. Irrational panic seizes me. What if I did accidentally poison her?
“It prickles.”
“It’s supposed to.” I give her a relieved smile, struck that it’s probably the first real smile I’ve ever shown her. “It relaxes the spasms.”
She pins me with a weird look, like maybe she’s imagining what it’d be like to dissect me, and the smile bleeds from my face.
I raise my hands in defeat. “Look, Donag. You win. I give up. I tried, I really did. You don’t like my cream? Fine. Go ahead. Do whatever it is you’ve been wanting to do since I got here. Turn me into a toad, or feed me a poison apple, or whatever. Just get it over with already.”
She peels her lips into a menacing smile. “Nae frogs. All ken it’s the cat who’s the witch’s familiar.”
She looks at me and titters with amusement.
“Glad you find me so funny.”
“Keep your heid, lass. It’s just”—Donag shrugs—“sometimes you’ve the look of him. Of Gregor.”
The cottage goes utterly still. I whisper the strange, unacknowledged words, “My father.”
“Aye,” she says tightly. “Him.” She turns from me, but not before I see her face crumpling with anguish.
“I’m sorry. About Janet, I mean.”
“’Twasn’t your sin, girl.” She shuffles to her cot. “Gregor and I had…an understanding. Your mother turned him into a fool. Now stop your chattering. I need rest.”
There’s a long silence. Then, the faint rustling of blankets. A deep sigh.
I stand there for a moment, processing everything that just happened, before carefully slipping off my wet clothes and climbing into my own cot.
“Your liniment,” Donag mutters into the darkness. “I’d add some wintergreen to it. But, aye. It’s good.”
I can’t believe it. An actual compliment. My reply is tentative, quiet. “I use wintergreen at home. But I didn’t know it grew here. If I had some, I might be able to distill it. I read once how to use steam to extract the oil. I couldn’t do it here, but the castle kitchen has enough pots.”
Donag is silent so long I think she’s fallen asleep. But finally, she says, “I could show you. Where it grows.”
I roll onto my side, contentment warming me. Callum will be so shocked and happy when I tell him how well the cream worked. He won’t believe Donag actually complimented me.
Callum. Amazing, wonderful Callum.
You should only kiss a girl when the gorse is in bloom. When can we sneak away so he can kiss me again?
“Donag,” I whisper, “how long will the gorse be in bloom?”
With a huff, she murmurs, “Only a fool asks fool questions.”
“And here I thought we were done with insults.” I adjust my blanket, tucking in against the cold. “If you don’t know the answer, just say so.”
She clucks. “A-course I ken the answer. Gorse is always blooming somewhere.”
I bite my lip not to laugh out loud. The gorse is always in bloom. Of course it is.
Sneaky, adorable Callum.
He said I’m all he’s thought about. That he’d enjoy the convincing of me. It didn’t take him long. Just one kiss was enough to get me on board with the whole program.
More than convinced, I’m consumed. It’s like I’ve been handed a new body, awareness blooming through every part of me until all I feel is alive.
But it’s deeper than just attraction. I feel lighter with him near me, breathe easier with him to help shoulder my burdens. Just telling him my concerns—both past and future—makes me feel better.
What if Callum came to the future with me?
Leaving him behind would be like losing part of my soul. Without him, I wouldn’t just be alone. I’d be adrift.
There’s been a seismic shift inside me. So much about me has changed. I can go back to my old life, but there’s no going back to the old Rose. And the new Rosie wants Callum.
Plus Poppa would love him. I grin in the darkness picturing it.
My mother, though?
I have to stifle a laugh. Janet would die if I showed up with Callum. I bite my lips picturing her face. She’d hate that she’s suddenly nineteen years older than he is.
I can’t wait to face her again. I know her secrets now. She’s a perfectly capable human being who’ll have to start acting accountable.
She’s got a lot to atone for, and her penance should definitely involve farm chores.
Donag moans from across the room. “You’re noisier than a drowning piper.”
“Sorry.” I shove a fist against my mouth. I’ve been trying not to giggle, but it’s building up. I can’t stop it. My shoulders rock as a snorting laugh rips from me.
“Well?” she snaps. “What’s got you so tickled?”
“I’ve decided…” I don’t know if I should be honest, though really, what’s the harm? “If I ever get home, the first thing I’m going to do is put Janet in charge of the chicken coop.”
Donag’s throaty chuckle surprises me. “Would that I could see that. Shame ’twill never happen.”
An urge seizes me. I need to try with her one last time.
“Please help me,” I plead into the darkness. “You said I remind you of Gregor, so do it for him. A father would want his child to be safe, and I’d be safer in my own time.”
“You’ve asked already,” she says curtly. “And I’ve answered.” She rustles for a full minute, sounding like her bed’s on fire, ending with a snap of her blankets. “Now haud yer wheesht so’s I can sleep.”
She may be blowing me off, but I can tell she’s not angry. Though—wow—she would be if she knew what I’m planning. How I’ve begun to dream of taking Callum when I go.
I haud my wheesht and dream of kissing him among acres of yellow flowers.
It takes a conscious effort to keep the dopey smile from my face as I weed the garden the next day. I’m in my dreamy daze when I spot something strange nestled in the dirt.
I shuffle on my knees to get a closer look.
Metal glints among the turnips. I dig my fingers in and pull free a dagger, my heart swelling. This could only be from Callum. A blade suitable for a lady, just as he’d promised.
Brushing away the soil, I shift it from hand to hand, marveling at his handiwork. The grip is wrapped in leather soft enough to have some give in my hand. But it’s the very top of the handle that gets me—a delicate ruffle of steel that couldn’t be anything but gorse.
“Ye awake there?”
I startle at Aoife’s voice and briskly hide the dagger under my skirts.
Her eyes gleam, like she knows she caught me at something.
“Mm-hm. Daydreamin’ through your chores, I see.
Has this aught to do with young Callum? Though nae so young anymore, is he?
I glimpsed him in my garden this morn. Stable lads have no cause to be in my garden, ye ken, and in particular no’ before the sun’s had a chance to rise. ”
My cheeks burn. “I, um, was that a question?”
She shakes her head with a good-natured smile. “Och, don’t mind me. You do as you like wi’ the lad. I’d ride that horse myself, were I nae so long of tooth.”
Now my cheeks are on fire. “There’s no, uh, riding…”
“Calm yerself. I’m only here to ask that you fetch a bowl of my broth up for the Campbell. The gout is troubling him, and he should drink it at its hottest, but I’ve no’ the time.”
“The Campbell?”
She gives me an exasperated look. “Aye, you ken the Campbell. ’Tis the man whose keep we tend every day?”
“I should bring him soup?”
“Are ye addled?” Her face hardens. “Up, up, while it’s hot. Or would ye rather a thrashing?”
I spring to my feet, muttering, “Yes, I mean, no. No thrashing. I’m going.”
Once she leaves, I tuck the knife in my stocking with trembling hands. I have to face the laird. Alone.
I take off my dirt-spattered apron. Dust off my hands. Shake out my skirts. Smooth my hair. But there’s no more delaying.
I can do this. It’s just a man and some broth.
Callum’s dagger presses into my calf, warm against my skin. A reminder. A promise.
I lift my chin and set off.
A ferocious wee thing.