“I’ll return with ye food, then.” Without another word, he left.
His kin returned a moment later for the basin and buckets of water. She thanked them in a quiet voice, unable to act indifferent to kindness.
When Mr. Logan Cameron came back, he carried a tray in both hands and set it down on a small rectangular table, then pulled one of the chairs in front of it.
She almost thanked him three more times, but she had to remember what he said—and that she hated him.
She sat and dipped her gaze to the two bowls, one with steaming stew and the other with day-old black bread. There was a clay cup with water in it for washing down the bread.
Was Mr. Cameron fattening her up for some nefarious reason? She almost set her spoon back down.
“Somethin’ troublin’ ye?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe and watching her. “Tis no’ poison.”
“Did ye cook it?”
“Aye,” he told her.
Her belly groaned. She placed her hand on it, hating herself for what she was about to say. “I fear I canna eat anything ye prepare, knowing how ye feel about me. If ye’ll allow it, I would like to cook my own meals.”
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. He could have been angry or detached. It was difficult to tell.
“I wouldna try to poison ye,” he assured her. “If I wanted ye dead, I would run ye through with my sword.”
Her gaze on him flashed. “If that was meant to comfort me, it did not. Does this mean ye willna allow me to cook?”
He studied her, mayhap looking for her deception. He would never find it. She learned long ago how to mask her feelings.
“Cook fer yerself then,” he allowed. “Dinna get in my way.”
She nodded and watched him leave. After a short wait, that made her tap her foot against the chair, she hurried for one ofher pouches and secured it to herself beneath the waist of her breeches.
When she touched the latch to her door, for a moment, her heart thumped madly in her chest. Had he locked it again?
It opened.
Inhaling a deep breath, she stepped into the hall. She looked around. Empty.
Did Mr. Cameron’s cousins live here with him? Did he live alone? Would it be just the two of them—nae! He was going to send her away with Ewen. Away to where? She hadn’t asked. She didn’t want to know. She worried she wouldn’t have enough time to poison the Camerons slowly. She would have to put enough of her herbs into their food to kill them with one dose, but the rest of his kin would hunt her down if she was suspected…or she could do her best to remain with Logan Cameron.
She knew she had to feed the four Camerons who were with her. None could be left out or they would kill her. How was she going to get them to trust her to eat what she prepared?
She smiled, entering the Main Hall. He had every kind of herb and spice to prepare something delicious.
She scooped all the meat out of Mr. Cameron’s stew and re-seasoned it with more fragrant herbs. And a small pinch of her special blend of poison. She also prepared her own non-poisonous broth.
No one would fall ill after the first ingestion. She could eat some in their sight and gain their trust to eat it when she didn’t die.
The key was to make her food even more delicious than Mr. Cameron’s. She could do it. Over the years spent as a scullery maid in the kitchens of various keeps and homes, she had learned how to prepare the best dishes.
“Ye made yer own then.” Mr. Cameron entered the Main Hall and met her at the simmering pot.
“I used what was left of yers and just added a few herbs and mushrooms.”
He bent to it and inhaled, then straightened, towering beside her like the mountain outside his windows. “It smells appetizing.”
Appetizing enough to try it? Should she hand him an empty bowl? Fill it for him?
No need. He reached fortwoempty bowls and handed one to her. “Join me.”
