Chapter 9
The air was fragrant with thyme and lavender, and the sun shone brightly on the path. Billie and Abigail walked with their arms linked, enjoying the day, no fewer than four guards following close behind even though they weren’t far from the castle.
Billie couldn’t help but think Domnhall was a little too paranoid. She couldn’t imagine what could possibly happen to her or her sister. Anyone who could have harmed them to get to their family was long gone and for the first time in a long while, there seemed to be a tentative peace among the clans, their wars and battles a thing of the past. It wouldn’t last long, Billie knew; it never did. War always followed power, and Domnhall had only just risen to his. Surely, he would make enemies soon, if he hadn’t already, but for a while, at least, they didn’t have to worry about an attack.
As they walked, Billie spotted another figure in the distance. It didn’t take long for her to notice it was another young woman, perhaps a few years older than her. She was a small thing, short and frail-looking, but she moved with such purpose and energy it was easy to imagine her as a force of nature.
When she reached them, she bowed, smiling brightly. “Good mornin’!” she said. In the sun, her dark eyes glittered, just like her brown hair, pinned carelessly into an updo. “Ye must be the Robertson sisters. I’m Elsea.”
Billie and Abigail bowed to the woman, too, giving her twin smiles. Billie hadn’t expected to find another young woman at the castle, and she was surprised no one had said anything about her.
“Good mornin’,” Billie said. “Aye, we are. I am Billie an’ this is me sister, Abigail. I’m afraid nae one has told us about ye.”
“I’m the healer,” Elsea said, raising her basket of herbs and flowers up to show Billie. “I dinnae live in the castle, which is probably why I was not mentioned tae ye and ye never saw me before.”
Billie’s eyes widened with glee. Not only was Elsea another woman close to her age, but she was also a healer, and Billie had had no idea about her existence until that very moment. Had Domnhall not thought of telling her? Did he simply not care? He knew how much she loved the craft of healing, but perhaps that night at the inn had angered him so much that he even kept Elsea’s existence from her out of spite.
“A healer!” Billie exclaimed, the awe palpable in her voice. “Ach, ye’re so lucky! I wish tae be a healer, too.”
“Ye dae?” Elsea asked, her smile as warm as the sun above them. “Well, perhaps I could show ye a few things.”
“I’m sure me sister would enjoy that very much,” Abigail said. “It’s all she has ever wanted tae dae.”
For a few moments, Elsea hesitated, her gaze falling to the guards who followed Billie and Abigail, before she pointed to a fork on the path. “I’m headin’ tae me cottage. It’s nae far from here. Would ye like tae join me? If that’s alright with ye, lads.”
“It’s nae a problem,” one of the guards said. “As long as ye dinnae mind havin’ us too.”
“It wouldnae be the first time, would it?” Elsea asked with a chuckle, before turning to address Billie and Abigail. “I’ve tended tae their wounds so many times, I’ve lost count! Careless, the lot o’ them.”
Elsea’s tone was fond as she spoke about the guards, and their small group took the turn towards the woman’s cottage. It didn’t take long for it to appear in the short distance, a square, two-storey structure of stone that was larger and more impressive than most cottages Billie had seen. Its garden was filled with plants, all of them clamoring for space, but there were no weeds in sight. Elsea took great care of her garden, it seemed.
It was the kind of place Billie would have loved to have for herself. It had none of the coldness of a castle, none of the vast corridors that were always filled with shadows, no matter how much sunshine poured in through the windows. Instead, it looked warm and cozy, like a beautiful, calming place.
Elsea let them all inside, and instantly, Billie was flooded with the scent of dried herbs and medicinal pastes. The inside of the house was just as warm and inviting, everything covered in flowers and books and trinkets, the floor laid with carpets and the couch with furs. The first thing Elsea did upon entering was to start a fire in the hearth, the logs warming up the chilly air in the room.
“Tea?” she asked, not waiting for a response before she began to prepare some. She grabbed a large kettle and filled it with water, placing it above the fire to boil. “Sit. Make yerselves comfortable.”
Billie and Abigail did as they were told, sitting next to each other on the couch, but the guards had a harder time accepting the offer, at least until Elsea herded them to the back of the room, where a large table stood surrounded with chairs. She seemed at ease with them, Billie noticed, as if she had known them for a long time.
When Elsea brought them their cups and sat down with the two of them, Billie couldn’t help but ask, “Have ye been the clan’s healer fer a long time?”
“A few years now,” Elsea said, taking a careful sip of her tea. “I used tae live in the castle, but I prefer it here. It’s much quieter.”
Billie could easily imagine that. Though the castle had places where one could retreat in order to get some peace, Elsea’s cottage was far enough from everything that the only sounds were those of birds and the wind. There was nothing there to disturb her peace.
“It must be nice, doin’ what ye love,” Billie said.
“It is, but it can also be hard work,” Elsea warned her. “Are ye certain this is what ye wish tae dae with yer life? Ye’ll be the Lady o’ the Clan now, after all. Ye dinnae have tae dae anything’ other than plan the feasts an’ enjoy yer time.”
“It’s what I wish tae dae,” Billie insisted. “I wish tae help people as much as I can.”
Elsea’s face softened at those words and she smiled at Billie warmly. “I suppose ye should dae it now, then, fer as long as ye can. Once ye start havin’ bairns, it willnae be as easy.”
Billie hadn’t given much thought to children. She knew she would have them one day, but it had never been one of her concerns. Even now, all she could do was shrug. “How difficult can it be tae have a bairn an’ be a healer at the same time?”
“Ach, I doubt ye’ll only have one,” Elsea said, covering a small chuckle with her hand. “If what I’ve heard about Laird MacAuley is true, then I’m sure he’ll have many heirs if he doesnae have a few o’ them already.”
Billie’s cheeks heated but she wasn’t the only one who reacted to Elsea’s words. One of the guards choked on the tea he was drinking and had to beat his chest with his fist to help his cough clear. Elsea only gave him an amused look, smiling over the rim of her cup.
So, it was just as Billie had suspected. Domnhall was more than happy to bring women to his bed, a different one every night, but the moment he found out Billie had been the one to come so willingly to his chambers that night, he had all but lost his mind. It was rather hypocritical of him, she thought, to blame her for something she hadn’t even done when he was the one who entertained himself with different women.
As though sensing her anger, Elsea’s smile faded and she placed her cup gingerly on the table between them. “Though I’m certain he will stop all that now that he’s betrothed,” she added, perhaps thinking the reason Billie’s good mood had waned was because she was jealous of all those nameless, faceless women. “Surely, he will be devoted tae ye.”
“Surely,” Billie said, though the word came out more bitter than she intended. “Well, I guess that means that I should attempt tae learn as much as I can from ye, right? Will ye show me?”
Much to Billie’s relief, Elsea latched onto the subject of healing, letting go of their previous conversation. “O’ course I will. I would be happy tae have a student, especially someone as serious as ye seem. I can give ye some books tae read an’ ye can visit me whenever ye please. It will be nice tae have some company here fer a change.”
It was easy, talking about healing and then about their lives, the three of them laughing and chatting as though Billie didn’t have a crushing weight on her shoulders. Perhaps this entire ordeal and the years she would spend by Domhall’s side wouldn’t be so bad, after all, if she had Elsea there, even if Abigail would have to return home eventually. At least Billie would have some company, another young woman who understood her passion.
They had barely finished their tea when there was a knock on the door. Billie looked over Elsea’s shoulder as she opened it to find a guard there, one Billie had only seen in passing.
“Miss Robertson,” the man said, looking at Billie. “Laird MacAuley requests yer presence immediately.”
“Ach, what does he want?” Billie asked, a little more abruptly than was polite. She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else, but when Abigail stood to follow her, Billie waved her back down. “Stay. Ye dinnae have tae come with me fer me sake. The lads will bring ye back tae the castle when ye wish.”
It wasn’t so much a request to the guards as an order, and none of them dared say no. They must have been reassured by the other guard’s presence, Billie thought, and they knew nothing would happen to her in the short walk to the castle with him there.
Once they had left the cottage behind, Billie turned to the man. “Why does the laird wish tae see me?”
“I dinnae ken,” the man said, not unkindly. “I’m afraid he didnae inform me.”
Billie wasn’t surprised. Even if the guard did know, she had the suspicion Domnhall had ordered him to say nothing. He seemed to like toying with Billie in a way that frustrated her beyond belief, and she was certain he had found another way to torture her for the day.
When they arrived at the castle, the guard took her to the kitchens, much to her surprise. For the first time ever since she had stepped foot there, they were empty, devoid of cooks and servants. The only people there were Domnhall and Hugo, and they looked much too pleased with themselves for her liking.
The guard departed with a bow before Billie could say anything, but even if she had had the time, what could she have told him? It wasn’t as though she could have asked for his help or, at least, his presence.
“Why did ye summon me here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“I would like ye tae make breakfast,” Domnhall said with a sweeping gesture of his arm, showing her everything that had already been prepared for her—pots and pans, ingredients she could use to her liking.
“Breakfast,” Billie said flatly. Why would she make breakfast when they had so many cooks to do that for them?
“Aye,” Domnhall said. “Ye can never ken when somethin’ will happen. Perhaps one day, ye will have tae feed our people. I need tae ensure ye ken how tae cook.”
Something told Billie he already knew she was a terrible cook, though she couldn’t figure out how he had found out. Had Abigail told him? It was the most likely explanation, but why would she share that with him?
It didn’t matter, not when she knew Domnhall wouldn’t back down. She would have to do this, but at least she could take a small revenge.
“Very well,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I will make sweet porridge.”
Domnhall grinned and stepped aside along with Hugo to make space for her. Billie approached the counter and picked a pot, a stirring spoon, and the ingredients she needed; all except for sugar.
Sweet porridge was one of the few things she knew how to make passably well, simply because it was something she loved to eat. Her porridge was nothing compared to what the cook would make her back home, but she was confident she could make it without setting the kitchen on fire, at least.
When they ate it, though, Domnhall and Hugo would get a nasty surprise.
As she worked, Billie could feel the men’s gazes on her back, boring holes through her, but she refused to turn around and face them. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, carefully pouring everything into a bowl. Behind her, Domnhall and Hugo spoke quietly to each other, and she could almost hear the grins in their voices.
She was tempted to throw the porridge in their faces.
“Dae ye need help?” Domnhall asked, in a tone that suggested he wished she would beg for his help.
“Nay, thank ye,” Billie said, turning around to give him the most saccharine smile she could muster. “It isnae the first time I’m doin’ this.”
That seemed to catch Domnhall’s attention. “It isnae?”
Billie had to suppress a laugh of her own as she took the pot to the fire and began to cook the porridge. “O’ course it isnae. I’ve cooked before.”
The look on Domnhall’s and Hugo’s faces was enough to fill Billie with a smug satisfaction that eclipsed all her previous anger. Her mood brightened as she began to put everything back in its place, making sure to clean the mess she had made on the counter and on the table.
“Ye dinnae have tae dae that,” Domnhall said. “The servants will take care o’ the cleanin’. All ye have tae dae is cook.”
“I dinnae want tae burden them with the mess I made,” Billie said. She had grown up with servants, of course, and she barely ever had to lift a finger, but it didn’t seem right to make them clean all that mess just because Domnhall had decided to toy with her again. It was a lesson her governess had taught her early: never put a burden on others deliberately. “Also, if I ever have tae feed the people in a time of need, I must certainly be capable tae clean up me own mess! They will be preoccupied about surviving I assume.”
That seemed to shock the two men even more. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Billie could have sworn Domnhall’s expression shifted into something else, something akin to fondness. She tried to hide how much it disconcerted her to see such a look directed at her.
“It’s me favorite breakfast,” Billie said, just to break the silence among the three of them. “It reminds me o’ me maither, so I wanted tae make it fer ye, too.”
“Does she make it fer you?” Hugo asked.
Billie gave him a small, sad smile. “She’s been gone fer a long time now. It’s one o’ the few memories I have, me maither an’ I eatin’ this together.”
“Oh… fergive me, Billie. I didn’t know she?—”
Billie shook her head, stopping him. “It’s alright. It’s been a long time an’ I wish tae remember her fondly.”
Domnhall had fallen silent, watching Billie with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. There was curiosity there, something else under it, unnamed but warm.
Eager to change the subject, Billie turned to Hugo and asked, “Ye sound naething like anyone I ken. Did ye nae learn tae speak from yer faither?”
“Oh no,” Hugo said, laughing in that brilliant manner of his that tended to fill up the room. “Maman insisted I learn from a tutor, though I’m sure if she could have it her way, I would only speak French.”
“I’m glad ye dinnae,” Billie said. “Or I wouldnae be able tae speak with ye. I can only hold a simple conversation in French, I’m afraid. Me tutors mourned me lack o’ progress relentlessly.”
“What dae tutors know?” Hugo asked with a shrug. “It’s all grammar and rules and boring texts. I’ll teach ye if ye want.”
“Ye would dae that fer me?” Billie asked, truly surprised to hear it. She had expected Hugo to be firmly on Domnhall’s side, to associate with her only as much as he had to.
“Of course!” said Hugo with enthusiasm. As he spoke, Billie caught a glimpse of Domnhall, smiling to himself.
It didn’t take long for the porridge to cook, and Billie kept herself busy with it, stirring it and watching the flames under the pot—anything to keep her gaze off Domnhall and his oddly earnest look. Once it was done, she served the porridge in two plates, placing one in front of each man and handing them both a spoon.
Then, she stood back, trying to bite back a grin.
Domnhall and Hugo each took a spoonful, bringing it to their lips. It didn’t take long for their smug expressions to be wiped off their faces, replaced by such disgust and repulsion that Billie couldn’t help but smirk just a little, satisfied with the results of her cooking. She knew the porridge was vile, of course. Instead of sugar, she had put in a bunch of salt.
Hugo coughed, struggling to swallow. “Billie, this is?—”
Before he could finish his sentence, something seemed to jostle him from under the table. Next to him, Domnhall smiled, strained and tight-lipped. “It’s delicious. Thank ye, Billie. Hugo an’ I will eat the whole thing.”
As he spoke, he brought another spoonful to his lips, eating it - if not with gusto - then at least with less reservations than Billie would have guessed. Surely, he couldn’t truly like it. She had made sure to make it as unpalatable as possible and if Hugo’s face as he forced himself to take another bite was any indication, she had succeeded in her goal.
So why is he eatin’ it? Why is he makin’ Hugo eat it?
Billie couldn’t make any sense of Domnhall in the first place, but now she feared he had lost his mind.
“Well, ye’ll certainly make a good wife,” Domnhall said, and no matter how much Billie tried to find the mockery in his tone, she couldn’t. He spoke as if he was entirely honest, praising her for something she hadn’t done. “Thank ye fer agreein’ tae this.”
Billie took that as her cue to leave, bowing to the two men and all but fleeing the room. She didn’t know what it was that had unsettled her so much, but even as she walked to her chambers, the only thing in her mind was the way Domnhall had looked at her, the way he had smiled. It was the last thing she had expected; such fondness felt strange coming from the man who claimed to be her enemy.
Domnhall himself had set up the battlefield that was their upcoming marriage, though she had helped by threatening him. He had no right to look at her like that. He had no right to confuse her.
Maybe this is part o’ his plan. Maybe he’ll be kind only tae be cruel again.
That, at least, made sense to her.