Chapter Thirteen #2
Her papa wasn’t happy though. In fact, when he turned to look at her, his eyes were red with anger.
How could ye, Elspeth? How could ye? He is a Royalist!
Are ye trying to kill yer poor mother? His eyes opened wider as if something just occurred to him.
Ye are trying to kill her, are ye not? That’s why ye helped that Royalist!
Nae! Nae!
But her father had gotten out of his chair and laid on the floor. Elspeth rushed to him and held him to her while she wept. Papa! But he didn’t answer. She looked around the hall, but everyone was gone. She was alone.
It was all his fault. Logan Cameron. She would never forget.
She woke hours later to sunlight spilling into her room and onto her. She forgot everything and snuggled deeper into her pillow and purred like a lazy cat.
She opened her eyes fully an instant later but didn’t want to get out of bed yet.
She hadn’t loitered in her bed for years.
She doubted Mr. Cameron would punish her for not hurrying out of bed to get on with her daily chores.
And what daily chores had he assigned her to?
None! She laundered because she wanted to—just like everything else she did.
She doubted he would get angry if she laid in bed all day!
She smiled before she could stop herself. When she could stop herself, she did and rose from her bed.
She heard a lass’s laughter from the Main Hall. Was Helen up and about and smiling at Mr. Cameron like a milkmaid in need of a tumble?
Dressing swiftly, Elspeth made her way out of her room, still not fully in her shoes.
Walking down the hall, she listened for any other sounds of life. She hurried to the Main Hall and the sound of Helen laughing. When she reached the doorway, she came to an abrupt halt and stared inside at Mr. Cameron cooking with a giggling woman flitting around him.
As if he’d been awaiting Elspeth’s arrival, he looked toward the doorway and smiled when he saw her.
She almost tripped over her foot when she moved to enter the hall. He inched forward, as if to help her, but she righted herself quickly.
“What are ye doing?” she asked with a smile, trying to ignore the stinging little barb in her chest. Why didn’t anyone wake her? She didn’t want Helen to make him smile, to see him smile, or to start hearing his deep, rich and melodic voice in their dreams.
“Makin’ breakfast,” he answered, making her realize that she, too, dreamed of his voice. “I asked Helen no’ to wake ye. I figured ye were dreamin’.”
Aye, dreaming of ye! Of ye! She wanted to tell him, but then she remembered… He is the one who holds my heart, Papa. Her dream and her Papa dying from her words.
“I…I would have helped,” she told him coolly and went to the chopping table, but it seemed everything was already done. Even the table was set.
“Helen,” she said, returning to the Main Hall, “May I have a word with ye alone?”
Helen nodded and then looked at Mr. Cameron. Why did she look at him? Elspeth thought, leaving with her through the back door.
“I must warn ye about Mr. Cameron,” she began. “He is a dangerous man—”
At this, Helen began to laugh. “Dangerous to only one thing—my purity.”
Her pur—her—Elspeth couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought or the one she had next about why talk of anyone’s purity summoned images of a bed; its blankets tangled around their bodies.
Hers. His. Of him leaning up to remove his shirt and then stare down into her eyes.
Her pulling off her chemise while his lips fell upon hers.
“Helen.” She gave her head a quick shake to clear it. “Regardless of yer obvious affection fer him, I ask ye to remember who he is. He is also my master.”
“Well, mayhap,” Helen said. “I want him to be mine as well.”
Elspeth stared at her wide-eyed. “What?” How could anyone want someone to be their master? And what in blazes was Elspeth really doing right now? Let Mr. Cameron be Helen’s master! What did she care? If that was what he wanted—
“Helen.”
Both women spun on their heels and looked up into Mr. Cameron’s warm gaze.
He looked at Helen first. “I am no one’s master, nor do I want any servants. I am responsible fer Miss Woodburn and no one else. Och, one more thing, Helen. Ye said ye had nae idea why Miss Woodburn couldna remember anythin’. Do ye still insist this to be true?”
Watching Helen wince at his gentle rebuke, Elspeth almost felt a wee bit of pity for her. She was happy he asked Helen. It was something that pricked at her like a nettle in her shoe.
Her belly knotted up even as her heart thumped when he turned his attention to her.
“Miss Woodburn, come inside and eat.”
He held his hand for her to take, but she ignored it and walked off toward the house alone.
She was glad to be in front of him so he couldn’t see her grinding her teeth as she summoned her strength to deny him.
She entered the Main Hall and sat in a chair around the table, next to Mr. Cameron’s.
After breakfast was served—without Elspeth’s help—she set down her spoon and her eyes on Mr. Cameron.
“This will be the last time I eat without having contributed anything to the meal. Do ye trust me so little to prepare yer food that ye let me sleep half the day away?”
“Do ye blame me?” he asked, biting into a piece of black bread.
Well, nae, she reasoned. She knew threatening him almost every chance she got was not the intelligent thing to do. He mistrusted her. She didn’t blame him. That didn’t mean she had changed her mind. It also didn’t mean that she didn’t.
She bit into her vegetable stew, made with cabbage, leeks, and carrots, with turnips, garden peas, and garlic. It was thickened with oats and seasoned with parsley, sage, and costly pepper.
She closed her eyes in delight at the flavors and textures of the stew. “Oh my,” she said, almost under her breath.
“Does that mean ye like it?” Mr. Cameron leaned in to ask her.
She blushed and nodded. “’Tis verra good, but I meant what I said. Let me help next time.”
He nodded, gracing her with another smile, and continued eating.
When they were all done, she cleaned the bowls in the stream while Mr. Cameron stood watch nearby.
He offered to help, but she flatly refused. “I will do my part here.”
“Yer part is to rest after six years of servitude,” he answered.
She turned to give him an incredulous look. “Will ye never quit being kind to me?”
He shook his head. “Why would I?”
“I am not accustomed to it. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“After a while, it will nae longer make ye feel that way.”
When she continued to stare at him, wondering how long he meant when he said after a while, he smiled.
She finished up quickly and accepted his help carrying the bowls back to the house.
After that, she joined Helen when she left to forage for herbs, but while Elspeth was with her, she thought about Mr. Cameron.
He was practicing using both arms to chop wood when she left him.
It was an exhausting exercise, but one he insisted on doing alone.
She smiled, liking his determination-if only he was not going to fight against Covenanters when he was fully recovered.
What if she could change his mind about Covenanters?
She’d had enough Royalist masters to know the differences between the two groups.
But…was she not going to kill him? She spotted some wild garlic growing next to deadly Mandrake.
She didn’t take any, not because Helen might see her.
Logan Cameron was changing her mind. How could it be?
It’s what she promised herself and her family for half a dozen years.
If she ever met him again, she would kill him.
But och, she didn’t want to kill him anymore. She was almost certain she didn’t hate him anymore. She thought more about the warmth of his smile than about putting a knife in his heart.
And last night, when he told her he wanted her to stay, she actually thought of…kissing him.
Thinking about her budding desire for him, she bent to pluck the Mandrake berries and shoved them into the pouch beneath her skirts.