Chapter 8
The kitchen was busy with servants who were still cleaning up from the previous night’s celebrations.
There was an air of agitation as well. As Kirsten entered, she overheard some of them commenting that the laird was in another of his black moods, so they had to be on their best behavior.
Kirsten was dismayed that they would be in such fear of their laird.
It was not the way she was used to things working.
At her own home, the servants had had great affection for the family, and there was never a hint that they had to be worried about their well-being.
As soon as they saw Kirsten standing in the doorway, everyone stopped immediately and looked stunned, their faces paling.
The bustling kitchen may as well have been frozen in time, and it was only stopped when Kirsten smiled.
“I dinnae mean tae disturb ye all,” she said.
The people and servants of the Monroe clan still had to get used to Kirsten, just as she had to get used to them.
Kirsten smiled politely and tried to make it obvious that she was no threat to them.
“I know ye are busy, but could ye spare someone tae help me cook a meal for the laird? I want tae dae something special for him, tae make sure he knows I’m gaeing tae be a good wife. ”
The servants and cooks looked at each other and murmured in agreement, perhaps liking her idea because it would put a smile on the laird’s face.
One girl stepped forward. She had hair as dark as raven’s wings and a face as pale as snow.
Her eyes were as blue as the loch near Kirsten’s home when it froze over during winter.
She introduced herself as Caitriona, and said that she would be happy to help.
The two women got started right away, and Kirsten was glad of the servant’s help.
“How long hae ye worked for the clan?” Kirsten asked.
“Oh, a good few years now. I started working for them just before the old laird died. It was a terrible thing, especially because Laird Marcas and I are of the same age, and I couldnae imagine what it would be like tae lose my parents. And then the dear lady left us as well.” Caitriona closed her eyes as she spared a thought for the departed.
“There haes been much sorrow around this place, but now that ye are here, that is all gaeing tae change. I’m sure of it. ”
“I hope that ye are right. I’ve heard that a few times now.”
“From Roderick?” Caitriona asked. Kirsten nodded. “He is a good man. I dinnae like tae think what would hae happened tae the clan if he haed nae been here tae look after things while Marcas came of age.”
“Is Marcas quite…difficult?” Kirsten asked.
Caitriona paused for a moment, looking at Kirsten directly.
“Am I allowed tae be candid?”
“Of course. I would hope that ye would always be honest with me,” Kirsten said.
Caitriona’s tongue darted along her lower lip as she glanced around and then lowered her voice, making sure that only Kirsten could hear her.
“We all respect Laird Marcas greatly, but we are also in fear. The way he carries himself around, always blustering and storming with thunder…it is nae good for us. The way he talks tae some us, why, he treats us like the enemy! We are all loyal tae the clan, but it makes our lives more difficult when he doesnae trust us, especially when most of us hae lived through the sorrow with him. We all pity him after what’s happened, but there are those who wonder how long they can continue tae work here. Naebody likes living in fear.”
Kirsten pursed her lips and nodded, disappointed to hear these words as a clan was only as powerful as the people who served it. “And are ye one of these people?”
“Oh, nay,” Caitriona said with a light chuckle.
“I hae lived here all my life. I couldnae leave any more than one of the trees could uproot itself and walk away. But ye dae wonder how long the laird can be like this until he starts pushing people away. If ye want tae know the truth, a lot of people are waiting tae see what ye are like before they make their decision. They hope that ye will be able tae soften his rough edges.”
Kirsten was humbled that so much was depending on her. The last thing she wanted was for the clan to fall apart.
Caitriona and Kirsten worked diligently to prepare the meal.
They chopped up the chanterelle mushrooms and fried them in some oil along with some herbs.
They also made black pudding and boiled some root vegetables to punch up the meal and give it some added heft, because Marcas was a man of great appetite and would need a full belly.
When the food was ready, Kirsten carried the plates into a dining chamber while Caitriona fetched the laird.
While she was waiting, Kirsten drew the curtains and lit a couple of candles to create an intimate atmosphere.
The food smelled delicious, and she hoped dearly that it was to Marcas’s liking.
Her stomach twisted as she thought of everything she had learned that day.
It seemed as though everyone was pinning their hopes on Kirsten being able to soften Marcas’s heart, but she didn’t know if she was capable of it.
Was anyone?
Marcas was such a hard man. The only thing she had seen him show affection for was Max, except during their night together.
The more she thought about their wedding night, the more she was puzzled by it.
It didn’t seem to fit with the man others spoke of.
He had been tender, gentle, and passionate.
She felt a sense of desire from him, a sense of safety.
When they had been under the blanket together, she felt untroubled, as though they were the only two people in the world and nothing else mattered.
But his behavior outside of the bedroom left a lot to be desired.
He had not paid her any attention. He had not even danced with her at the wedding.
By any measure, he treated her like an inconvenience rather than a wife, so which man was she supposed to believe was her husband?
She needed to learn more about him. She needed to grow close to him—that was, if he allowed her.
He had kept himself distant and only offered glimpses of his inner thoughts.
It was going to be a challenge to be the woman that this clan needed her to be, but Kirsten was filled with an inner resolve to be that woman.
She was his wife now, whether she liked it or not.
That was the role destiny had set out for her, so she couldn’t shirk it.
She glanced down at the simple metal band resting on the fourth finger of her left hand.
It was a seal that symbolized the vow she had made to Marcas and the Monroe clan.
Her name had changed, and so her way of thinking had to change as well.
She was no longer Kirsten Gallach, the sweet girl who had always dreamed of getting married and serving her family.
She was Kirsten Monroe, wife of Marcas, and her duty was now to her new clan.
He might well be a difficult man, but that was a challenge she had to face and overcome.
She had fulfilled her duty to her parents by getting married, and now she had a new duty.
Kirsten took a seat at the small, round table, waiting patiently for her husband’s arrival, watching the steam from the plates of food rise into the air and mingle with the smoke from the candles.
She hoped that Marcas wouldn’t take too long and ruin the food.
She watched wax drip down the candles and prodded the mushrooms with her fork.
Eventually, he came in. Caitriona flung open the door and announced him, showing him in with a flourish of her arm.
Kirsten smiled at the gesture and was thankful for everything that Caitriona had done to help her prepare this meal, but Marcas’s face was as stern as always.
His clothes were covered in mud, and the stains of footprints trailed behind him.
There was a dank, earthy smell that pervaded even the scent of the candles.
Marcas had a beleaguered look on his face.
He clenched his hands into fists and loomed in the doorway like a giant.
For the first time, Kirsten wondered if this meal was such a good idea after all.
She shrunk in fear, shocked by his appearance.
“What’s gaeing on here?” he asked in his deep, rumbling voice.
Every time he spoke, there was a hint of accusation and threat, and his eyes were wild.
Kirsten could see the paranoia taking hold of him, and fear twitched inside.
When he was like this, she felt there was no hope in ever saving him from the dark despair that resided in his heart.