Chapter Seven
Eilidh woke early the next morn, the feel of Torquil’s lips lingering on hers. She sighed, pulling her pillow over her face as she giggled into it. Happiness consumed her at the thought. She hadn’t realized how much it would mean to have someone look at you and want to get to ken you. The real you.
Torquil was unlike anyone she had ever met and the exact opposite of what she thought a MacGregor would be. If she listened to her brothers, all MacGregor men were barbaric beasts with no manners. Worse than that, even killers.
Torquil did not fit their description in any way whatsoever.
He was kind. Soft-spoken. Incredibly handsome with sharp cheekbones and a jaw that looked as if it were chiseled out of stone.
His beautiful green eyes were round, wide, and glinted with mischief.
He wore his reddish-blond hair long, the waves brushing his shoulders.
And he was tall, like her brothers, but with a much slimmer build.
Her brothers would call him weak. But he was not.
His strength was in his art, his musicality, his poetry.
In those realms he was so very strong. It was the first thing that drew her to him.
And with the way he kissed her so thoroughly? She touched her lips again with a smile at the memory she wanted to keep reliving over and over again. Torquil saved some of his passion for those things that he didn’t share with most others.
His feelings.
The realization of that made her feel special—and she longed to see him again. Craved to see him again. Needed to see him again. Like a starving person needed food.
She jumped from the bed and splashed her face with cool water and got dressed for the day. She had told Morven that she would help her with the chores this morn. When she opened her bedchamber door, her sister’s hand was poised to knock.
“Perfect timing, I would say,” Morven laughed. “Good morn.”
“Good morn. Ye slept weel?”
“Aye. Ye?”
Eilidh nodded, trying not to grin widely. She had slept more than well, dreaming of Torquil and his kisses. “Shall we break our fast afore we start? I feel ravenous this morn.” It was not a lie.
Morven looked at her quizzically. “Are ye weel?”
“Of course, I am,” Eilidh answered with a giggle. “Dinnae be silly.”
“I am no’.” Morven raised her brows in disbelief. “Though ye seem to be. Ye are always in such a rush to get away from Hartsmoor. ’Tis unusual to see ye no’ only offer to help with chores, but also to break our fast together. Ye are acting oddly.”
They continued down the hall and stairs.
“I told ye that I would help ye this morn. I doonae understand yer confusion.”
They bypassed the bustling Great Hall, which was full of men breaking their own fasts and preparing for the day.
Later, some of the men would be training whilst others performed all manners of labor and other such things in and around the castle.
All under her father and Alpin’s watchful eyes and strong leadership.
Eilidh and Morven went straight to the kitchens, weaving around serving maids carrying heavy trays laden with loaves of bread, pots of jams and small urns of fresh churned butter, along with a variety of dried and salted meats.
Others carried pitchers of honeyed ale. Eilidh inhaled deeply as the trays passed.
The smells floating through the air offered a tempting aroma and her stomach growled loudly in response.
Morven giggled. “Someone is hungry.”
Una popped her head up from a cupboard. “Did ye lassies say ye are hungry?” She straightened, wiping flour from her hands on the apron tied haphazardly at her waist. “Sit, sit.” She shooed them over to the table where they had broken many fasts.
“Good morn to ye both. ’Tis nice to see ye together for a meal.
” She smiled with a wink and hurried off to gather food.
They sat as instructed and watched as everyone around them hustled about.
Eilidh always felt a bit guilty with how busy the servants were, but the one time she had offered to help, the servants took it as a personal affront.
She had not meant it to be insulting, she had truly wanted to help.
But they would have none of it and quickly dismissed her offer.
“What chores are we working on today?” Eilidh asked, smiling when Una placed a steaming bowl of porridge in front of her. Morven scrunched her nose in distaste. Una quickly returned with a plate of bread, jam, and butter, and then poured cups of honeyed ale.
“Eat up and get yer day off to a great start, dearies.” And then she was back in the thick of the hectic kitchen, giving orders and delegating tasks.
Morven shook her head. “I dinnae ken how she does it. I would go mad with such responsibility.”
“Aye,” Eilidh nodded. “She is verra good at keeping the kitchens in order and ensuring we are always fed.” She added a spoonful of jam to her porridge and stirred, making a fruity, colorful swirl, then blew off the steam afore taking a bite.
The warmth spread throughout her chest and she smiled.
It was her favorite meal. “So, the chores?” She prodded.
Morven was slathering a piece of warmed bread with butter.
“No’ really chores. We are going foraging.
” She licked the butter that dripped from her fingers.
“I want to look for flowers that I can dry. I have a needlepoint design I am working on with Ma and I would like to weave dried flowers into the pattern.”
Eilidh nodded like she understood, but she did not. “Sounds lovely.” Needlepoint, or any sewing, for that matter, had never held her interest. “Are there nay actual chores for us to do?”
“Ye ken as weel as I that no one lets us do aught. I decided we might as weel get out in the sun and see what we can find.”
Her sister had a point. Much like the kitchen maids and servants, the household maids shooed them away whenever they attempted to help.
Their chores mainly consisted of keeping their rooms tidy, but even then, they each had their own maids who went after them to do the deep cleaning of their chambers.
Eilidh shrugged. She would never turn down a chance to get out of the castle and explore. She wondered where Morven wanted to go flower hunting. Mayhap in the direction of where she met up with Torquil? If so, she would gladly tag along.
Absentmindedly, she touched her fingers to her lips. The memory of his kiss once again bringing a smile to her face.
Morven gave her an odd look. “Why are ye smiling like a fool?” She asked. “Is it the porridge. If so, I shall ask Una for a bowl.”
Eilidh rolled her eyes. “’Tis naught. But, aye, the porridge is divine.”
“That is comical.” Morven shook her finger at Eilidh. “Ye are hiding something. I just ken it. I will find out what, though.”
Eilidh ignored her and finished her porridge. “Shall we get to wandering the woods then?” she asked when she was done.
They thanked Una and made their way through the courtyard and out to the west side of the castle. Eilidh hid her disappointment in going the opposite direction that she kenned would take her to Torquil.
“Do ye have any particular flower ye are looking for?”
Morven shook her head. “Nay. I just want something that speaks to me. I will ken it, when I see it.”
Eilidh rolled her eyes. This could be a very long foraging expedition if those were the parameters they were searching by.
They walked deeper into the woods. Morven looked over her shoulder.
Eilidh followed her gaze. There was no one following them.
“I ken ye are keeping a secret,” Morven teased, her voice lilting.
Eilidh stiffened, but forced her body to relax, and hoped that her sister had not noticed. “I dinnae ken what ye are speaking aboot.”
“Och, aye, ye do.” Morven pushed her arm. “What is it?”
Eilidh forced a laugh. “I believe ye are creating scenarios in yer mind to entertain yerself, little sister. Mayhap, ye should become a storyteller. A bard to travel the countryside and tell tales.”
Morven lifted a brow. “Doonae change the direction of our conversation. Ye have been sneaking off lately. Ofttimes.”
“I havenae. Unless ye are referring to me finding time alone so that I can practice. May I remind ye that is naught new.”
“Aye, but this is different. Something is different. E’en ye are different.” Her eyes widened. “Is it a boy?”
Eilidh snapped her eyes to Morven’s, her nerves suddenly making her stomach feel unsettled. “What?”
“Have ye got a boy ye fancy?” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Och, tell me. Is it someone I ken? Tell me who ’tis,” she demanded.
“There is no one. I fear yer mind is wandering and coming up with stories again,” Eilidh teased. “I think ye would make a wonderful bard,” she repeated, trying to draw her sister’s attention away from the goings-on in her private life.
Morven gave her a droll look as she cocked her head to the side. “Dinnae play with me.”
But Eilidh refused to speak any further on the matter and Morven, thankfully, finally, gave up. They collected more leaves than flowers, but Morven was happy with what they had gathered, and they walked back to Hartsmoor with a basket full of items for Morven to dry.
During supper, as she, Morvin, Alpin, and their parents gathered at the dais to eat, her father addressed her.
“Eilidh, where have ye been sneaking off to, girl?” His voice was gruff.
Eilidh jumped, her fingers tightening around the cup she was holding. Had he found out?
Her mother gave him a look of warning, and placed her hand on his arm. The gesture relaxed him a little, but he still waited for an answer, his eyes boring into Eilidh’s.
She moved food around on her trencher, her appetite lost. “The usual places, practicing my fiddle for the upcoming ceilidhs. The glen mostly.” The lie felt heavy on her tongue and her stomach twisted into a tight knot with guilt.
Morven looked at her curiously, but Alpin studied her with suspicion on his hardened face, his eyes narrowed whilst he assessed her. As if he kenned she was hiding something.