Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
As Amelia shuffled through the courtyard nearly a week later, it dawned on her that Darragh’s presence had been a physical thing, even when he wasn’t within her line of sight. Now that he wasn’t here, she felt more restless than usual.
The gates creaked open, and she spun toward them. Immediately, she was embarrassed by her behavior. She wasn’t waiting for him, certainly not.
Anyone would jump if those gates opened unexpectedly. The fact that he may ride through doesnae play a single part in it.
Even as she thought that, turning around and walking back into the castle before she could embarrass herself further, she knew it wasn’t quite true. Yesterday evening, she’d climbed the stairs to the battlements just to see if he was riding in the northern fields.
“Miss Amelia,” the cook, Nigell, said as she entered the foyer. He smiled at her over the armful of sugar sacks in his arms. “I was hopin’ to run into ye. Ye’re still interested in learnin’ how we make the desserts, aye?”
“Aye,” she agreed, a genuine smile creeping onto her lips. “I was actually already on me way to the kitchens. I was goin’ to see if I could lend a hand.”
“Ye ken ye’re always welcome in me kitchen,” Nigell said, indicating with a nod of his head that she was to follow him. “I find it difficult to believe that ye never cooked before. It seems ye have a natural talent for it.”
She preened under the praise, grinning. “I suppose that it just makes sense to me. And I like doin’ things with me hands.”
“I’m goin’ to have ye usin’ yer hands and yer brain with this,” he said as he dropped the sugar onto his workstation. “Desserts require ye to do more than just dump ingredients into a bowl.”
“Then I look forward to the challenge,” she replied, already rolling up her sleeves. “I think I’m goin’ to enjoy it more than kneedin’ bread.”
Nigel gave her a knowing look as he fetched an apron. Slipping it on, she felt the weight of his understanding. Even though she hadn’t spoken about why she’d been coming to the kitchens more frequently, he accepted it. He’d made time even though she could see how incredibly busy the place was.
I truly have become a part of the keep. I think that I’m learnin’ nae to question me place here.
* * *
“Me Laird,” the groom greeted as Darragh rode into the stable, “I wasnae expectin’ ye until tomorrow evenin’.”
“Aye,” he said as he dismounted, waiting to hand off the reins. “There are preparations to be made here. Ye will be attendin’ to Laird McGowan’s horses in two days.”
“Aye, Me Laird,” the groom replied, swiftly taking Darragh’s horse toward his stall as Darragh started toward the castle.
There had been little progress made in the investigation surrounding the trap. He and Ewan agreed that it was quite likely Clan McKenzie was to blame, but they’d found nothing definitive. When Darragh had received word of the McGowans’ journey, there wasn’t a compelling reason for him to stay.
“Patrick,” he said, stopping the steward when he entered the lower kitchens, “I’ve been meanin’ to speak with ye.”
“I hope there’s nothin’ wrong, Me Laird,” the man said, frowning.
“Nay, nothin’ catastrophic,” Darragh replied, falling into step next to him as he removed his gloves. “We’ve been feedin’ a fair few more people now that we’ve established the camp. I need to ken the land’s harvest projections, so I can begin sortin’ out the trade with other clans now.”
“We’ve an abundance of grain and potatoes,” Patrick said as they walked toward the pantry. “There’s nay significant increase nor decrease in our crops from the previous years.”
Darragh nodded, already running through strategies. A clan to the south would likely take their grain in exchange for animals for slaughter. He may have to look a bit further to find a fair deal for the potatoes.
“Give me a written report by tomorrow mornin’,” he declared after a moment. “I will need exact numbers. I cannae let anyone under me care go hungry.”
As Patrick gave his affirmative, Darragh continued on his way. He was nearly out of the kitchen when he heard laughter. It was clear, unguarded, coming from someone he didn’t think could make that sound.
Turning around, he scanned the workstations. He was almost expecting to find that his mind had played a trick on him. Then, he spotted Amelia.
She was standing next to the cook, her sleeves rolled up, a smattering of sugar on the front of her apron. The smile on her face made her look much younger. He watched as she sliced a lemon carefully, her eyes squinting in concentration.
Darragh leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. The cook accepted the lemon slice and then leaned forward. He squeezed it over the bowl of what Darragh assumed was sugared cream. Then, he slid the dish in front of Amelia.
“Now try it,” he instructed, standing back with a pleased look on his face. “Sour flavor sharpens the sweetness.”
Cautiously, as though she didn’t believe him, Amelia picked up her spoon. She dipped it inside, then brought it to her mouth, dainty rather than savage as she had been when he first met her. After chewing for a moment, her entire body brightened.
“It changes everythin’,” she said, twinged with awe.
This version of Amelia that he was seeing was completely different than the one he was used to. Instead of bracing for a fight, she was grinning freely. There wasn’t tension lingering in her shoulders, and she looked as though she belonged here.
She looks even more bonnie with that smile on her face. She does belong here, and I will kill anyone who tries to take her from the keep.
“Aye,” Nigell said. “I told ye that desserts require ye to use yer mind as well as yer hands.”
“I believed ye, but I wasnae expectin’ lemon to make this sweeter,” she replied as she took another spoonful of the cream. The utensil was halfway to her mouth when she noticed Darragh. “I…”
Whatever she had been attempting to say died on her lips. The spoon settled in the bowl once more. Quiet fell upon the entire room as the rest of the staff turned to see what had stopped her.
Nigell looked between the two of them, his shoulders stiffening.
Slowly, as though he was afraid the tension would snap and lash at him, he stepped away from the table.
Several other staff members shuffled back from their stations, suddenly incredibly focused on the organization of the pans along the walls.
Darragh straightened, taking a few steps toward the center of the room. “I’m glad to see ye, Amelia. I just got word that Laird and Lady McGowan will be arrivin’ the day after tomorrow.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, all of the tension he’d come to expect from her returned. Keeping her eyes on him, she wiped her hands on the apron slowly. There was no longer that new lightness in the curve of her lips.
He swallowed around the bitter realization that keeping her here would be a detriment. While he couldn’t send her back to her father, there must be somewhere that she could thrive. Somewhere away from him.
“Ye invited them?” she said, placing her hands flat on the tabletop.
“Aye,” he replied with a nod. “There will be a welcome dinner.”
The formality seemed to completely rebuild the wall. Amelia’s lips twisted, her jaw twitching. Pushing herself back from the workstation, she glared at him. It reminded him of the way that she watched him when she first arrived.
“I told ye that ye dinnae need to do so on me account,” she said, clearly holding her tongue in front of the staff.
“I dinnae invite just because of ye,” he argued, even though that wasn’t entirely the truth. He had been in contact with Lucas, but they had nothing to discuss that couldn’t be communicated through letters. “However, I do believe that Flora is lookin’ forward to makin’ yer acquaintance.”
She rounded the table, her eyes never leaving his. The stone clicked with each deliberate fall of her feet. The noise from the staff had stopped, making the kitchen so quiet that he could hear each breath she took.
“I told ye,” she began when she got close, her voice low and dangerous, “that I dinnae want to meet anyone. Explicitly.”
“Ye’re a guest in me castle, Amelia,” he said, his volume matching hers. “Ye daenae get to make decisions about who comes and goes.”
“If that were the case, ye shouldnae have spoken to me before ye invited them,” she replied, anger flashing like uncontrolled flames in her eyes. “Ye cannae expect me nae to feel as if me opinion was disregarded.”
“I was never askin’ yer opinion,” he told her, watching the way she coiled even tighter.
He knew his words would only add fuel to her indignation, but his own temper was flaring.
“They were visitin’ regardless of whether ye wanted them to or nae.
I’m the Laird of this land. I can invite whomever I please into me keep. ”
“Of course,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. There was flour along her forearm, dried cream on her hand. “I should have kent.”
Then, she was gone, pushing past him in a rush. She didn’t even bother removing the apron, nor did she spare him a second glance. As the door slammed shut, signaling her departure, the staff stilled.
Not going after her felt wrong, but that would be the wrong course of action. It was his presence that disturbed her leisurely mood, and she did have every right to feel as though he’d ignored her wishes.
Clearing his throat, he looked around the kitchen. “There’s nae reason for ye to be stoppin’ yer duties.”
Everyone snapped back into action. The suffocating silence was replaced by knives against cutting boards and pans clambering onto stoves. Darragh surveyed the room one last time before stomping to his office.
She can be as upset as she wants to be. I’m doin’ what needs to be done. And perhaps one day, she’ll realize that.