Taking a deep breath, she entered the room. To her intense disappointment, Dylan was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Mrs. Macpherson and a much younger woman were busy cleaning up after breakfast.
“Good morning, ma’am.” The second woman bobbed her head nervously, drawing Mrs. Macpherson’s attention.
“Ah, there you are, lass. We were wondering if you were going to sleep all day.” With a wink, Mrs. Macpherson hurried to Natalia’s side, bringing a tray loaded with assorted pastries and meat pies. “You mentioned yesterday we might hire a cook, so I sent for my niece, Shannon. She arrived this morning to make breakfast—an audition, of sorts. Young Dylan said she would do fine, but he left the final decision up to you.”
Mrs. Macpherson offered her a plate then both women watched with hope-filled eyes as Natalia took a pastry and bit into it. An audition? For the first time, she realized she was in charge of running this household, a responsibility that made her nervous. She wanted to please Dylan, but she had little experience in domestic matters. Fortunately, the pastry was light and flaky, filled with a sweet cherry sauce. If this was a sampling of Shannon’s work, she’d do just fine. “It’s absolutely wonderful, Shannon. When can you start?”
“See, lass, I told you everything would work out.” Mrs. Macpherson enveloped her niece in a huge hug, and then the two of them danced a little jig right in the middle of the kitchen.
Natalia couldn’t remember ever laughing with the help. No one who worked for her father had so much as cracked a smile in her presence, let alone danced about. But their exuberance pleased her, and her bad mood lifted.
How nice to be among such friendly people.
Shannon came forward, her blue eyes sparkling. She shared Dylan’s striking coloring, and it was easy to see she was related to the Macphersons. In her early thirties, and very attractive, she was far too thin to be a cook. “I promise you won’t regret hiring me, ma’am. My husband passed away last year, and I’ve three wee bairns, so this job is a Godsend.”
Such gratitude made Natalia uncomfortable, but she was glad to give the woman the assistance she needed to support her young family. In fact, knowing the woman’s story, she would’ve hired her even if the food had been horrible.
“We’re glad to have you.” When she had a private moment with Mrs. Macpherson, she’d ask the older woman about Shannon’s living situation. If Shannon needed to bring her family here to live, there was still plenty of room in the servants’ quarters. This big old house needed a few children laughing and playing in the hallways.
The thought made her remember the longing in Dylan’s eyes when he’d asked her if she wanted children of their own. She’d been too overwhelmed to think about the possibility last night, but now she realized how much she wanted a family.
What a wonderful father Dylan would make.
A strange little thrill went through her at the prospect. Unobtrusively, she placed her hand on her stomach. Amazing to think a child could be growing inside her this very minute.
“Where is my husband?” she found herself asking, after the servants had finished their little impromptu celebration.
“Oh, he was up with the sun this morning, lass.” Mrs. Macpherson sat down in the nearest chair and gave Natalia a speculative look. “Looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink, poor lad. Patrick took him down to the village to meet the rest of the tenants.”
“Oh.” Natalia sat down at the kitchen table to finish her pastry. Heat spread across her cheeks as she thought about what had kept him awake.
There was passion between them. No doubt about that. But she wanted more. She wanted his love, and she had no idea how to go about earning it.
If only Clarice were here.
She eyed Mrs. Macpherson and Shannon and wished she knew them better. She’d love to pour her heart out to someone. These women were older and presumably wiser. Might they have some tidbit of information that would help? Some trick to winning a man’s heart?
Now that Natalia had hired Shannon, the two servants were chatting merrily as they went about their work. They were so caught up in their village gossip they seemed to have forgotten their employer even existed.
Besieged by loneliness, she longed for Clarice’s companionship. She had so many questions. About love. About marriage. About sex. Perhaps she would write her stepmother a letter. It lacked the immediacy she craved, but it would be a way of expressing her confusing emotions. Plus, she wanted to tell Clarice how wrong she had been about lovemaking.
As far she could tell, there was nothing distasteful about making love to Dylan. Then again, her husband was beautiful, tender, and kind. Regretfully, Clarice’s was none of these things.
Glad to have a plan, Natalia finished up her breakfast, bid the women farewell, and went back to her room.
* * *
“Mrs. Macpherson? Can I have a moment?” Later that afternoon, Natalia found the old woman in Dylan’s childhood room, briskly stripping the small bed.
“Of course, lass. What can I do for you?” Mrs. Macpherson straightened, put her hands on her hips, and arched one brow in curiosity.
After writing her letter to Clarice, Natalia had spent the rest of the day wandering the keep, looking for Fiona Blake’s paintings. So far, her search had proven fruitless. No trace of Fiona’s art remained in the solar or any of the living areas. She figured if anyone would know where to find something at Aldabaran, it was Mrs. Macpherson.
“Dylan told me his mother was an artist. Would you happen to know if any of her paintings remain at Aldabaran?”
Mrs. Macpherson turned away and gathered up the heap of blankets, her motions jerky with some strong emotion. “Our dear little Fiona. She was always dabbling with her paints and brushes. Such beautiful pictures that lass could paint.”
Which didn’t answer Natalia’s question. Reining in her impatience, she tried again. “Yes, but did she leave any of the paintings here? I’d like to see them, and so would Dylan.”
