Chapter 12
At the distillery the next morning, Hannah was overseeing the boys filling clay bottles with the whiskey they’d finished distilling the day before. She’d done very well in not thinking about Aiden, too.
Well, there had been some thoughts. A few. Several.
Alright, many thoughts. But I fought them off. Most of them.
“Go ahead and leave the last pot,” she instructed. “I have some infusions planned for those. Gregor requested chamomile for his wife to help her sleep and ginger for his stomach.”
“Aye,” Samuel said with all the gravitas a ten-year-old could muster.
“When will ye teach us to make the infusions?” Thomas asked, and then paused. “Or me.” Being two years older, he had more experience than his companion.
“As soon as I can trust ye with filling the bottles without oversight and nae mixing up herbs with poisonous plants, we can start discussing trusting ye with the infusion of them.”
Both boys looked chagrined once more, and Hannah felt a twinge of guilt. They were good workers. They’d been reliable to the best of their young abilities, always willing to do extra chores. But she must do this to be sure that they didn’t put themselves in danger. The risks were just too high.
Taking pity on them, she patted Thomas’s shoulder. “I’ll show ye how it’s done when it’s done this time. How’s that?”
He beamed and nodded his head, and she returned his smile.
Satisfied that they weren’t going to come to blows over the bottles, which would mean she’d possibly be committing murder, Hannah nodded her head and made her way to check the mash.
She was thinking about giving each boy a small amount of the next batch to try their own infusions on as an experiment, when the door of the distillery opened behind her. She heard heavy bootsteps approaching.
“Mistress Leon?” The voice was familiar.
She turned and looked the man up and down. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, and almost as tall as Aiden, which was not insubstantial height. “I recognize ye.”
“I should hope so, lass. Last time ye left me standing on the road looking like a fool.” He grinned at her. “Ye didnae let me introduce meself before. I’m Lucas.”
He had an easy smile, and Hannah couldn’t help but hesitantly return it. She offered a hand, and he shook it, his grip gentle for such a large man.
“How can I help ye, Lucas?” she asked politely, still confused as to why someone from Aiden’s castle would be anywhere near her village, much less her distillery.
For a moment, she wondered if Aiden had changed his mind and had sent his man to pick up the next whiskey bottle, which wasn’t even infused yet. She hadn’t even considered that he would send somebody else to do it.
Now that she considered it, the thought landed like a rock in her stomach, indigestible.
“The Laird sent me here to update ye.”
She hadn’t expected to hear those words. She had been braced to explain that she had a very specific infusion time and that the drink wasn’t ready yet. “Me?”
“Aye, ye.” Lucas ran his hand through his light brown hair. “Three healers have been sent to yer village already. They’re seeing to the sickest among ye. More angelica has come. Attempts to get them to take root havenae been successful, but we’re trying again.” He smiled again.
“Aye?” Hannah said slowly. “Why would Aid—the Laird send ye to inform me of this? I’m nay one of import.”
Lucas looked at her like she was out of her mind, raising his eyebrows. Then he reached into his sporran and withdrew a folded piece of parchment. He held it out. “The Laird told me to see to it that this was delivered to ye, lass. Personally.”
Hannah took it slowly, furrowing her brow. She broke the seal and opened it. Her father had taught her to read, mercifully, so she could keep the books of the distillery. She could hear Aiden’s voice in her head as she read the short missive.
I’ve checked my botany books and sent the healers with some other herbs that may also help with the illness.
Looking forward to the next delivery.
-Aiden.
She read that last line several times and found, against her better judgment, that she agreed with him. She was looking forward to the next delivery as well.
Was that his handwriting? It was rough and careless, a proper man’s handwriting. She briefly imagined him hunched over his desk in the middle of the night, scribbling determinedly. She imagined a lock of hair falling over his forehead, only for him to shove it back impatiently.
Her cheeks heated, and she cleared her throat, folding the letter and tucking it into the pocket of her apron.
She returned her gaze to Lucas once she was done rearranging her apron just so to let her cheeks cool. “Thank ye, Lucas, for making sure I received it.”
He raised an eyebrow and studied her face just a bit too closely, as if he were searching for some trace of what had been inside that letter. As if he knew more than she did. “Aye, of course, lass.”
Clearing her throat again, she raised her eyebrow expectantly in response to his examination. “Is there anything else?”
“Nay, Mistress Leon.” He tipped his head, almost as if he’d begun to bow and stopped himself.
Then he glanced up and flashed her that easy boyish grin she’d already begun to suspect had gotten him into and out of quite a lot of trouble.
“Unless there is a chance for another taste of yer fine whiskey?”
Hannah snorted. “Subtle.” She turned, snagged one of the bottles they were filling, and splashed a generous measure in a cup. “I suppose ye earned it, trekking all the way here to deliver a letter and good news.”
“Much obliged.” Another grin, and Lucas took a long drink of the fresh whiskey. “Nae quite as good as what Aiden gets, but I’ll take it.” He winked as he drained the cup, then gave it back.
Hannah grinned. “Ye save the village, and ye can have the nice stuff too.”
That earned her a loud laugh.
Eventually, he turned. “I had better be on me way. A pleasure to make yer acquaintance—properly, this time—Mistress Leon.” He fully bowed this time, which startled her, and then made his way out of the distillery.
Hannah took a deep breath and let it out as she watched him go.
This was a strange visit. What did he hope to achieve?
After a moment, somebody tugged on her sleeve. Blinking and waking from her reverie, she glanced down to see a boy shaking her arm, a hint of panic on his face. Wordlessly, he pointed. She looked over and saw one of the boys overfilling the bottle in front of him because his eyes were on her.
“Oy!” She frowned at him. “Eyes on yer task, Thomas.”
“Oh!” He looked down, startled, face reddening with embarrassment as he hastily put the dipper back in the cask. “Apologies.”
“It’s all right, lad, ye arenae in trouble,” she added, clearing her throat in embarrassment. It was her responsibility to watch over the boys, and here she was, staring off into space and daydreaming. They’d think she was mad.
A very serious look crossed Thomas’s face, and he nodded solemnly before withdrawing the dipper and starting a new bottle. A glance told her that Samuel had suddenly gained quite a lot of focus on his task as well.
She turned to leave. “I’m trusting ye two,” she added, giving them the responsibility of finishing the bottles.
They replied, “Aye,” in unison, and she nodded before leaving the distillery, walking toward the cottage. She paused on her way and strode into her herb garden, checking on the growth. She quickly noticed the Hellebore trying to sneak its way in.
“Nae so fast, ye wee monsters,” she muttered and knelt beside her sage and rosemary, digging into the soil to yank the offending plants free. Once she saw one, she saw the next and the next. With a sigh, she started on the second, happy with the distraction.
When she was about half an hour into the work, Violet dropped down next to her with a glass of water and a pair of gloves. “Here.”
Hannah looked up at her and smiled, taking both with a grateful smile. “Thank ye.” She drained the cup much the way Lucas had been so quick to drink his whiskey.
“What are we digging up?” Violet asked as she slipped on her own gloves. “Are we harvesting or weeding?”
Hannah couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face as she realized her sister was working at her side to weed the garden, which hadn’t happened in ages. “Are ye sure ye’re up to it?”
“If I need a break, I’ll go inside,” Violet said simply. “The sun will do me some good, anyway. Didnae ye keep saying that?”
“Aye.” Hannah chuckled. “I suppose so.”
The two worked side by side, and the second pair of hands soon had all of the poisonous weed out of the herb garden.
Hannah felt a little guilty for leaving the gardening to the boys so often. They had obviously not recognized the nasty weed that propagated quickly as a problem, and how could they?
She made a mental note to be more attentive to more than just the whiskey as she brushed herself off and stood up alongside Violet. “We did well.”
“We did.” Violet was a little pale but steady on her feet, and the two went inside together.
It was time to infuse the whiskey for her next visit with Aiden. This time at MacBain Castle, which somehow felt even more intimidating than Calder Castle, if that was even possible.
The cask for her father’s special whiskey, the one she had let sit for a year before she could bring herself to touch it, sat in the corner of the hearth room. Hannah popped the seal and examined it. It was lower than last time, the angels taking their share.
She picked up one of the expensive glass bottles and ladled the whiskey carefully into it, adding the herbs for the infusion. After closing the cask back up, she corked the bottle and placed it in the cupboard to rest for the next few days.
Two more weeks, she told herself. Initially, that had been a prayer, a reminder that she didn’t have to see the intimidating man who commanded their land forever. That she would be able to hand him that last bottle, cut some more angelica root, and walk away.
Now, it was beginning to feel a bit disappointing. Though she refused to admit that to herself. Like watching the hours fade away on a restful Sabbath afternoon, knowing too soon the sun would rise on another workday.
Violet had been watching her work from the table, her chin resting on her hands. “Do ye think Da would like what ye have done with the whiskey he left so far?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Using it to save yer life?” Hannah asked as she made her way to the hearth and checked the broth simmering there. She stirred it briefly, then moved to the pantry to collect a potato and a carrot. She took them to the table and began to chop.
“Well, obviously, he would be fine with that.” Violet laughed. “I hope.” Hannah looked up to see her looking puzzled, as if trying to figure out how to ask the right question. “The way ye’re making the whiskey. The infusion of it and such. I ken Da never made one like ye’re making now.”
Hannah paused her chopping for a moment, considering the question. Their father had always encouraged her to experiment, to make suggestions, to try things. He had been adamant that if she were to succeed him, she would need to know how to innovate.
“Aye.” She finished chopping, gathered the vegetables into her apron, and took them to the pot, letting them tumble in. “I think he’d be right jealous he didnae think of it first.”