“Then I look forward to the challenge,” she replied, already rolling up her sleeves. “I think I’m goin’ to enjoy it more than kneedin’ bread.”
Nigel gave her a knowing look as he fetched an apron. Slipping it on, she felt the weight of his understanding. Even though she hadn’t spoken aboutwhyshe’d been coming to the kitchens more frequently, he accepted it. He’d made time even though she could see how incredibly busy the place was.
I truly have become a part of the keep. I think that I’m learnin’ nae to question me place here.
* * *
“Me Laird,” the groom greeted as Darragh rode into the stable, “I wasnae expectin’ ye until tomorrow evenin’.”
“Aye,” he said as he dismounted, waiting to hand off the reins. “There are preparations to be made here. Ye will be attendin’ to Laird McGowan’s horses in two days.”
“Aye, Me Laird,” the groom replied, swiftly taking Darragh’s horse toward his stall as Darragh started toward the castle.
There had been little progress made in the investigation surrounding the trap. He and Ewan agreed that it was quite likely Clan McKenzie was to blame, but they’d found nothing definitive. When Darragh had received word of the McGowans’ journey, there wasn’t a compelling reason for him to stay.
“Patrick,” he said, stopping the steward when he entered the lower kitchens, “I’ve been meanin’ to speak with ye.”
“I hope there’s nothin’ wrong, Me Laird,” the man said, frowning.
“Nay, nothin’ catastrophic,” Darragh replied, falling into step next to him as he removed his gloves. “We’ve been feedin’ a fair few more people now that we’ve established the camp. I need token the land’s harvest projections, so I can begin sortin’ out the trade with other clans now.”
“We’ve an abundance of grain and potatoes,” Patrick said as they walked toward the pantry. “There’s nay significant increase nor decrease in our crops from the previous years.”
Darragh nodded, already running through strategies. A clan to the south would likely take their grain in exchange for animals for slaughter. He may have to look a bit further to find a fair deal for the potatoes.
“Give me a written report by tomorrow mornin’,” he declared after a moment. “I will need exact numbers. I cannae let anyone under me care go hungry.”
As Patrick gave his affirmative, Darragh continued on his way. He was nearly out of the kitchen when he heard laughter. It was clear, unguarded, coming from someone he didn’t think could make that sound.
Turning around, he scanned the workstations. He was almost expecting to find that his mind had played a trick on him. Then, he spotted Amelia.
She was standing next to the cook, her sleeves rolled up, a smattering of sugar on the front of her apron. The smile on her face made her look much younger. He watched as she sliced a lemon carefully, her eyes squinting in concentration.
Darragh leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. The cook accepted the lemon slice and then leaned forward. He squeezed it over the bowl of what Darragh assumed was sugared cream. Then, he slid the dish in front of Amelia.
“Now try it,” he instructed, standing back with a pleased look on his face. “Sour flavor sharpens the sweetness.”
Cautiously, as though she didn’t believe him, Amelia picked up her spoon. She dipped it inside, then brought it to her mouth, dainty rather than savage as she had been when he first met her. After chewing for a moment, her entire body brightened.
“It changes everythin’,” she said, twinged with awe.
This version of Amelia that he was seeing was completely different than the one he was used to. Instead of bracing for a fight, she was grinning freely. There wasn’t tension lingering in her shoulders, and she looked as though she belonged here.
She looks even more bonnie with that smile on her face. Shedoesbelong here, and I will kill anyone who tries to take her from the keep.
“Aye,” Nigell said. “I told ye that desserts require ye to use yer mind as well as yer hands.”
“I believed ye, but I wasnae expectin’ lemon to make this sweeter,” she replied as she took another spoonful of the cream.The utensil was halfway to her mouth when she noticed Darragh. “I…”
Whatever she had been attempting to say died on her lips. The spoon settled in the bowl once more. Quiet fell upon the entire room as the rest of the staff turned to see what had stopped her.
Nigell looked between the two of them, his shoulders stiffening. Slowly, as though he was afraid the tension would snap and lash at him, he stepped away from the table. Several other staff members shuffled back from their stations, suddenly incredibly focused on the organization of the pans along the walls.
Darragh straightened, taking a few steps toward the center of the room. “I’m glad to see ye, Amelia. I just got word that Laird and Lady McGowan will be arrivin’ the day after tomorrow.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, all of the tension he’d come to expect from her returned. Keeping her eyes on him, she wiped her hands on the apron slowly. There was no longer that new lightness in the curve of her lips.
He swallowed around the bitter realization that keeping her here would be a detriment. While he couldn’t send her back to her father, there must be somewhere that she could thrive. Somewhere away from him.
