Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
“Nae too much longer now, aye?” Ewan asked as soon as he spotted Darragh while he continued adjusting his stallion’s tack.
“Ye’re more eager than a child,” Darragh observed, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirked at his right-hand man. “But aye, we will be startin’ shortly. I’m goin’ to make me rounds. I wasnae as present as I should have been this mornin’.”
Ewan scoffed, patting his beast’s neck. He waited for the animal to finish whickering, watching Darragh with an eyebrow raised.
“I daenae think anyone was payin’ all that much attention to whether or nae ye were playin’ good host. They’re far more concerned with comin’ back with the biggest prize at the end of the day. ”
“Be that as it may, I shouldnae be neglectin’ me duties just because me guests maynae notice,” Darragh said with a grunt. Just as he turned to walk away and make good on his intentions, Ewan’s voice stopped him.
“Ye havenae made me aware of what’s got ye so distracted this mornin’.” Ewan was stroking his horse’s muzzle now, the creature nuzzling against his palm. “Is it not me job to guide ye through difficult decisions?”
Darragh’s jaw tightened, his lip curling upward as he squared his stance. “I’m nae sure I ken what ye mean, but I believe it would be best for ye to watch yer mouth.”
“I’m nae sayin’ anythin’ that’s meant to upset ye,” Ewan said, taking a slow step away from his horse. “I’m simply tellin’ ye the truth. I could see that yer mind wasnae really in the great hall this mornin’.”
“And ye ken that we are currently dealin’ with multiple investigations,” Darragh countered, keeping his voice even though something protective in him flared.
“Aye, but ye seemed most distracted by Amelia’s empty seat,” Ewan said bluntly.
It felt like the air crackled between them. For a moment, Darragh thought he’d lash out, but he contained the wolfish aggression, knowing he’d have a chance to get it out shortly.
“I daenae think it’s unfounded for me to be concerned about her,” Darragh said as smoothly as he could muster. “Ye’re nae so dense that ye cannae see how stressful an event like this must be for her.”
“Ach, but ye’re far too dense to realize that ye’ve nae been discreet. Ever since we received that messenger that bore news of Laird Mackenzie’s travels, ye’ve been even more protective of her. Ye’ve told me before that ye’re nae worried about her breakin’. Has somethin’ changed?”
The merriment of the other men filled the space between them. Ewan showed no signs of pulling back, and Darragh knew that this wasn’t the place for a battle of wills. It was part of why he asked Ewan to fill the position, but it came with its share of disadvantages.
“Whatever conversation ye’re tryin’ to have isnae appropriate for this event,” Darragh said through gritted teeth.
His voice was quiet, barely audible over the cacophony of noise mere centimeters away.
He took a step forward, invading Ewan’s space.
“Ye ken that. Ye’re bringin’ it up now because ye think I will indulge ye just to make me life easier.
Ye’re a smart man. Come to yer own conclusions, but be sure to keep them to yerself. ”
Ewan had the sense to nod, though a vein in his forehead bulged with the effort it must have taken him to stay silent.
For both of their sakes, Darragh turned around then.
He didn’t fully understand the anger that was boiling under his skin at the thought of exposing Amelia’s secret, especially when he hadn’t confirmed it with her.
Nothin’ but startin’ rumors if I’m to say anythin’. He should ken that if there’s information he needs, I will give it to him without him askin’.
“Laird Fraser,” Laird McDonough called, a smile on his face and a glow on his cheeks that spoke of overindulgence, “I had the strangest visit that I’ve been meanin’ to speak with ye about.”
“Aye?” Darragh asked, stopping in his tracks. “We’ve nae got much time to discuss anythin’ direly important, but if ye wanted to—”
“Nay, it’s nothin’ that needs that much time,” McDonough said, either not realizing or not caring that he cut Darragh off.
Saints, today is truly a test of me patience.
“Then go ahead,” Darragh grumbled, not bothering to hide his annoyance. The other man likely wouldn’t recall the finer details of this chat. “What is it, Laird McDonough?”
“Have ye heard that Laird Mackenzie seems to have recovered from all that rotten luck he ran into?” he said, unbothered by Darragh’s demeanor. “He came to me castle just last week. Said he wanted to discuss new trade agreements.”
Darragh dropped all of his aggression, his gaze sharpening with interest as he asked, “And did ye settle anythin’?”
“Nay,” McDonough said, rubbing his chin. “It was the strangest thing. He only spent a singular night with us. Asked me all types of questions about who was stayin’ there.”
“Like he’s lookin’ for someone,” Darragh muttered under his breath.
“That’s what I thought.” McDonough punctuated his words with an exaggerated flourish of his hands. “I’m nae sure who, though. I daenae ken much about him nor his private affairs.”
Darragh absorbed that quietly. He knew exactly who Laird Mackenzie was looking for. Glancing at the sun in the sky, Darragh realized he wouldn’t have time to make his rounds anyway.
“What did he—”
For the second time that morning, Darragh was cut off. This time, though, it was by the cry of bagpipes. It seemed that he’d severely underestimated the time.
I do believe the Saints are testin’ me, but to what end I cannae be sure.
* * *
“What is that?” Amelia whispered to herself as she shuffled a bit closer to the fire.
Within the glowing embers, something was beginning to take shape. The white-yellow logs were falling against each other, seeming to melt together, though she was sure that wasn’t possible. She thought she saw legs. Then, a body grew, a neck, and a muzzle. At first, she thought it was a dog.
“Nay…” she murmured, “it’s a wolf.”
Before she could get any closer, bagpipes wailed, and she scuttled backward. It was only by the grace of a higher power that she didn’t end up toppling into the flames. As she put a hand over her chest, she told herself that she was safe.
The Lairds belong in counsel rooms and great halls. Nae the kitchens. Nae amongst cooks and healers.
“Eat,” Isla said, appearing in front of her as though she’d just materialized there.
She thrust a plate piled high with eggs, bannocks, and haggis.
When Amelia took it, she said, “Ye can eat in the great hall, or ye can eat here.” She stopped mid-step as she walked away.
Looking over her shoulder, she added, “It is best for yer health if ye sit while ye take yer meal, but we will be grabbin’ a few spare herbs from the kitchen stores if ye’d like company. ”
Then, as if she were embarrassed, Isla walked away. She still held her chin high, but there was a sharp stiffness to her shoulder that Amelia recognized intimately. Smiling, she followed the girl, snatching a fork from a nearby table as she walked.
“Ye’re right,” Hazel was saying to Isla as she placed herbs into the basket she was holding. “But just because ye’ve gotten better at the administration of laudanum before bandagin’ someone, that doesnae mean that ye’re ready to be takin’ care of patients without any oversight.”
“But last year there were so many men comin’ to see us with mindless injuries,” Isla sighed. Amelia nearly laughed around the mouthful of haggis. “Would it nae be helpful if I could take care of the ones that only have minor cuts?”
“Many of those men will claim that the minor cuts are life-threatening injuries,” Hazel countered, locking eyes with Amelia, the two of them sharing a private smile. “Egos that big require a certain amount of… delicacy. I daenae think it comes innately to ye, dear.”
Isla shifted, tilting her head to the side and squinting up at her mother. “What could ye possibly mean by that?”
Amelia had to turn away from the scene for a moment, busying herself by eating several bites from her plate. As Amelia worked her way through her food, Hazel somehow managed to keep herself from laughing. It was a skill Amelia could only hope to learn one day.
“I mean that bedside manner is somethin’ we must all be taught,” Hazel said, the professionalism in her voice only maintained by the very thing she was describing.
“Ye do an excellent job with Amelia, that’s true.
Men are more difficult than women; they just willnae have ye think it.
They keep their pain all hidden, and if they do let it out, they’ll exaggerate it because they’re afraid of appearin’ weak. ”
“That doesnae make a bit of sense,” Isla replied incredulously.
“And that,” Amelia said, polishing off the last of her meal, “is why ye’re nae ready to be treatin’ them on yer own.”
Isla whipped around, frowning. Before she could argue with Amelia, Hazel explained, “Ye must learn that some things just daenae make sense, Isla. Men are one of those things.”
“I daenae think ye make sense,” Isla grumbled petulantly. It was the first time Amelia had seen her frustration boil over in the way that made her act her age. “Why would ye nae just tell them they’re nae dyin’ from a scratch? Why should I have to coddle their feelin’s?”
“Ye daenae have to worry about their feelin’s when ye’re just havin’ a conversation with them,” Amelia cut in, sensing that Hazel was about to give the girl a lesson about being a polite, proper lady.
“Say what ye mean and let them lick their wounds in private. But if ye’re healin’, ye must consider how the injured person feels.
Ye wouldnae want to be told ye were overreactin’ if ye were hurt, aye? ”
Isla looked between Hazel and Amelia, disbelief palpable on her face. Incredulously, she said, “I absolutely would want to be told if I were overreactin’.” She huffed, shifting the basket of herbs to her other arm. “What sense do men make?!”
Amelia’s laughter bubbled over, free and unbidden.
As Hazel’s own quiet giggle joined her own, it hit her with stunning clarity that she did not want to leave this place.
Not only did she want to weather the storm that her father’s visits would surely bring here, but she also wanted to stay long past that.
These two are family. And Darragh… I want to stay.
“What could the three of ye possibly be cacklin’ about over here?” Mrs. Rowan asked, coming to a stop next to Amelia. She seemed amused, almost pleased at the jovial mood she’d happened upon.
“I’m nae cacklin’,” Isla interjected. “They’re laughin’ at me as if I’m the insane one for nae understandin’ men’s egos.”
“Ach, they’re only laughin’ because they used to think the same way ye did,” Mrs. Rowan said, her brow softening fondly. “Ye’ll look back on this one day and laugh as well.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Isla huffed.
It looked as though the only thing stopping her from crossing her arms over her chest and stomping her foot was the basket.
Hazel had begun filling it once more. “If anythin’, I’ll be even more frustrated that this issue wasnae just explained to me. I’m nae a child.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Rowan said, shaking her head. “We’ll let ye observe how we handle the men we see today. I think ye’ll have a better understandin’ of why these two couldnae just tell ye about how men behave.”
Isla stared at Mrs. Rowan, seeming to weigh the woman’s professional standing with her own dislike of being relegated to the sidelines. Finally, she relented and said, “Fine. I’ll observe, but I’d like to be allowed to assist.”
“We’ll need yer hands,” Mrs. Rowan assured her. Then, she grabbed something from her apron and pressed it into Amelia’s hands without looking away from Isla. “I need ye to take this to the Laird now, lass. He forgot his lucky satchel again.”
Amelia ran her fingertips over the smooth leather, worn to delightful softness from years of use.
As soon as she fully processed the request, her stroking motion stilled.
She couldn’t leave the comfort and warmth she found in the kitchen, but she couldn’t deny this request, not without having to answer questions she wasn’t ready to hear.
So, she closed her fingers around the satchel and nodded.
Then, because she didn’t trust her voice not to crack and give away the storm of emotions that was roving through her body, she turned around and left without another word.
The further she moved away from the kitchens, the louder the voices of the men gathered in the courtyard grew.
A knot tightened in her chest. It was held together with fear, anger, anxiety, and something that she couldn’t explain as anything other than anticipation. Shifting the satchel to her other hand, Amelia wiped away the sweat from her palm.
All I have to do is find Darragh and give him the satchel. Then I can return to the kitchen. Or me quarters. At least until the lairds leave the keep’s walls.