Chapter 3
Chapter Three
As Fergus hauled the trunk of skates toward the storeroom in the servants’ quarters, he encountered his sister and a female cousin in the corridor.
“Dare I ask what’s in the trunk?” Ismay asked, tossing her chestnut locks. “Everyone knows you hied off with that harpy, Edith Gallagher, this afternoon.”
Fergus glowered at her and Leana as they giggled. He didn’t know whether to be more upset by the insult to his integrity or his sister’s labeling of Mistress Gallagher as a harpy.
The woman could kick up a fuss for certain, but she didn’t holler just to hear her voice.
It was true he took risks with Miss Gracie—at least it would seem that way to a Sassenach—but the little lassie was never in any danger.
Mistress Gallagher cared for the girl and hadn’t yet realized he did, too.
“If you’re suggesting I have Mistress Gallagher in here,” he said, scooting past his kin and disappearing into the storeroom, “you’ve a wicked streak, lass. You should seek out the minister’s counsel and beg him to pray for you.”
Ismay followed him into the storeroom and playfully stuck out her tongue when he glanced in her direction.
“What an excellent suggestion,” she said. “I’ve no’ shocked Reverend Adair for over a fortnight, and that is half the fun of misbehaving.”
Fergus shook his head, unable to keep a smile from his face as he deposited the trunk on the floor. His younger sister was cheeky, but she was a good lass. Besides, she knew her backside would be on the receiving end of a switch if she didn’t behave. Their mother tolerated no nonsense from anyone.
“Why no’ go bedevil your beau and leave me in peace?” he said.
“Terrence is tending the horses. Dinnae think I’m foolish enough to step foot in the stables. I havenae forgotten your threat to run my betrothed through with a blade if you catch me down there.”
“I can go with her,” Leana called from the corridor.
Recently, their fifteen-year-old cousin had discovered lads and in turn, the lads had begun to notice her.
Fergus wouldn’t allow Ismay or Leana to frequent the stables, even if his sister was nineteen and soon to be a married woman.
There were a few too many straw piles in the stables for his liking.
Fergus responded to Leana’s offer with a half growl, half grunt.
His sister chuckled. “Why do you think I have her helping me today? That way I can keep an eye on her.”
“Keep both eyes on the lass. She has always been one to get up to mischief.”
Leana peeked around the doorjamb. With her peaches and cream complexion and strawberry blond hair, it was no wonder the lads wanted to chase her. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the good sense to run.
“I can hear every word you’re saying, cousin.”
“I meant you to hear.” He winked at his sister and chucked Leana on the chin when he exited the room. “Now, if I can only get you to listen.”
As he headed toward the kitchen, Ismay rallied their young cousin to follow her above stairs to help with the final preparations to the guests’ chambers.
Helena wanted everything perfect for her sisters, and the staff at Aldmist Fell cared for her as if she were one of their own.
They would make certain their lady was well pleased with every detail.
The welcoming aroma of cinnamon and yeasty bread wafted into the corridor outside the kitchen. Fergus heard his mother barking orders at her assistants before he strolled in. She paused in wringing out a piece of muslin, her face lighting up at the sight of him.
“There you are. I wasna certain you would be here for supper since I didnae see you all afternoon.”
“I have no’ missed a meal yet, have I?”
He rounded the baker’s table to kiss her plump cheek as she spread the wet cloth over the table. Even though his work at Aldmist Fell sometimes kept him outdoors for long hours, he always made time to sit for meals with the house servants, most of whom were his kin.
“Miss Gracie kept me hopping today,” he said. “I spent the better part of the afternoon searching for skates for the ice skating outing she has planned. The lass has a list of ideas as tall as she is.”
His mother chuckled, her shoulders jostling as she dug a handful of flour from a bowl and sprinkled it over the cloth.
“Aye. We’ll have no rest with that one around.”
Fergus moved to the end of the table so he wasn’t in her way. He watched her efficient movements with interest.
“Are you making clootie dumplings?”
She nodded and swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, leaving a dusting of flour. “Miss Gracie has never had them. The poor child knows nothing about the Highlands.”
“Well, she couldnae have a better teacher. You’ll have her whipped into shape before she heads back to England.”
“Aye. She’ll no’ learn it from any of the Sassenachs. Bless her soul.”
Despite his mother’s initial show of exasperation over the horde of Sassenachs that would be descending on the castle, her beaming smile suggested she actually was pleased. The former lord of Aldmist Fell—Helena’s first husband—rarely entertained, unlike his parents before him.
It had been many years since the castle had housed guests, which might account for everyone’s high spirits. The staff was more jovial than he’d ever seen them. Without much excitement to be had in their small corner of northern Scotland, houseguests broke the monotony of winter.
His mother looked up from her task. “What brings you to the kitchen? Supper will no’ be served for a while yet.”
“I’ve a favor to ask,” Fergus said. “Tomorrow afternoon I am taking Miss Gracie and Mistress Gallagher around the countryside, and I wondered if you would make your fruited nut cake and pack some warm chocolate for the outing.”
His mother snorted, grabbed the large mixing bowl sitting on the counter to hug it close to her body, and wrestle the wooden spoon through the thick mixture of suet and currants.
“Can you no’ sneak away with Miss Gracie before the shrew comes below stairs?”
“Och.”
Fergus pinched the bridge of his nose. The womenfolk were giving him more trouble than he deserved today.
“Mistress Gallagher is a decent sort,” he said.
He felt the need to defend the lass since she had no one to take her side. Whereas Fergus had been born into a large family of ready allies, Mistress Gallagher had none.
“And no, I cannae sneak away. I invited her to join us.”
His mother stopped stirring to stare at him as if he was off his head. He held up his hand before he received an earful from his opinionated mother.
“I’ve said my piece. I will no’ hear anymore on the matter.”
She pursed her lips and slammed the bowl onto the counter. Wiping her hands on her apron, she shot a look toward her kitchen staff.
“If it would please his Laird High-and-Mighty,” she snipped, “I would beg a word with you outside.”
He sighed, already regretting speaking to her in such a way in front of her subordinates. Even though he held a higher rank at Aldmist Fell as the land steward, she was his mother and deserved a different level of respect a cook without familial ties would be given.
With a sharp nod, he granted her request and followed her into the corridor. She led him away from the kitchen.
“Mother, I want to make Christmas special for Helena—Lady Thorne. All those years separated from her family. It was no’ right of her first husband to keep her a prisoner.”
His mother turned on him to shake a finger in his direction. “Now you listen to me, Fergus McTaggart. I have been as patient with you as any mother should be expected, but I cannae hold my tongue any longer. A man of five and thirty should have many a bairn by now.”
She punched her fists to her hips, giving her scolding finger a rest.
“Ye have a family line to carry on, and you cannae do your duty as long as you run circles for Lady Thorne and her wee sister. God knows I love them both, but their wishes cannae come above your responsibilities to your family.”
“Nothing is interfering with my duties.”
Fergus raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled. His mother hadn’t opposed him traveling to London with Helena to search for her sisters, but she’d been badgering him to find a nice lass and settle down ever since he’d come home.
He had nothing against marriage or bairns, but he wouldn’t marry just any lass to make his mother happy. He had to find the right one, and his choices were limited in a small village where more than half the unmarried lasses were relatives.
His luck might be improved in Inverness, but he was needed at Aldmist Fell until Lord and Lady Thorne returned to England after the new year.
“Can we no’ make it through Christmas first?” he asked. “Mistress Gallagher and I have called a truce. Perhaps you and I can do the same. Once the Thornes leave, I’ll set my sights on courting a lass, I promise.”
His mother scowled. “I will hold you to your word. I expect you to make me a grandma before Christmas next year.”
She jostled past him and stalked back toward the kitchen.
He cursed softly. Glancing up, he discovered Mistress Gallagher standing at the end of the corridor. She was gripping her hands in front of her as if in prayer and looking any place but at him.
“Forgive me,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
He shrugged, not concerned that she’d overheard anything. There were no secrets among the servants at Aldmist Fell. For that matter, there were no secrets among the McTaggarts. A clansman would be frustrated beyond reason if he expected any privacy.
He came forward, noting how she fidgeted as he drew near. “I dinna mean to make you nervous, lass.”
She shook her head and dropped her hands at her sides. “You do not, Mr. McTaggart.”
He stopped in front of her, feeling like a giant in comparison. Her wide eyes said she was lying, but he didn’t contradict her.
“What can I do for you, mistress?”
More strands of hair had slipped from her knot, and her dress was a bit rumpled from their afternoon of digging through trunks, but she couldn’t look prettier. She licked her lips, leaving behind a slight sheen.
“I-I wanted to apologize for running off earlier. It was rude, and I was afraid it might affect our truce.”
Her soft blue gaze lifted to meet his, and his heart tripped.
“I liked not fighting with you this afternoon. I wouldn’t want to go back to old habits.”
She looked younger shifting from foot to foot. And innocent. She wasn’t, of course. Mistress Gallagher had lived in a brothel, and Fergus had searched enough of them in London looking for Helena’s sister to know one couldn’t step a foot in such a place and maintain one’s innocence.
Yet, there was no denying her vulnerability, and it called to his protective instincts. His arms ached to wrap around her and shield her from any man that would dare misuse her. Instead, he took a step back before he gave in to the urge and embarrassed them both.
“I gave my word, Mistress Gallagher, and I willna break it.”
The furrows between her brows disappeared, and she offered a tentative smile.
“I see. Well, it is good to know a man who keeps his word.”
He chuckled. “Have there been so few?”
She blinked; the small smile she’d granted him disappeared. “My father was an honest man.”
“Was?”
“Yes, honest ‘til the day he died. Then there is Lord Thorne, Lord St. Ambrose, and…”
Her gaze shifted toward the ceiling, her lips moving as she seemed to be mentally sorting through all the men she had known in her lifetime. Not many were making it onto her good list.
His hand clenched against his thigh. He didn’t like to think of any man mistreating her. In fact, it made him want to pound his fist into something.
She looked at him again, her blue eyes a little warmer.
“Then I met you.” Holding up her fingers, she counted. “One, two, three, four. I suppose that is a rather good number. Most of the girls at Madam Montgomery’s said they had never met one honest man.”
He crossed his arms. “There are good men in this world, lass. It’s the blackguards that give us a bad name.”
“Not all of you, Mr. McTaggart.” She tossed a quick glance over her shoulder. “I should be going. Gracie is organizing a game of charades, and I promised not to be gone long. You could join us if you like.”
Fergus grimaced. Even though he cared for Helena like family, and he and Gracie were as thick as thieves, he was the land steward, a servant. He did not socialize with barons and baronesses.
“Thank you for the kind invitation, but I best see to my responsibilities.”
Her eyes flared wide a second before her face flooded with color.
“Uh… Not those responsibilities,” he said, too late recalling she had overheard his mother scolding him for neglecting his procreation obligations. “To do with Aldmist Fell.”
“Oh!” If it was possible, she blushed an even a darker shade. “Yes, well I shouldn’t detain you any longer.”
She turned and dashed back down the corridor before he could bid her farewell.
“Dinna forget we have an adventure tomorrow,” he called as she disappeared around the corner.
“I will remember.”
And Fergus was unlikely to think on anything else all night.