Page 90 of Luthias

Emery was expecting to see a real-life version of the museum exhibits of medieval cottage interiors, but the reality turned out to be disappointing. Other that a row of slatted wooden platforms, some buckets, stone shelves and a rickety old broom, the cottage was just a plain box with a packed dirt floor. Her dismay turned to amusement; these were only used as temporary housing, not as permanent dwellings. Hopefully the laird would keep his promise to take her out to the farms so she could see how medieval families really lived.

That’s not why or how he wants to take you for a ride, her conscience prodded. You should stay at the castle.

“Yes, I got that memo.” Emery picked up the broom, taking it outside to shake the dust from it before returning to sweep the shelving.

She finished the headman’s cottage and emerged to go to the next, only to find the maids and scullery surrounded by a group of large, muscular-looking men dressed in dirty clothes. The oldest man smiled as he spoke to the maids, while the other men began setting down their bags and packs. The tallest woodcutter turned to look at her, and beneath a tangle of jet-black hair his bright blue eyes narrowed.

“Yikes. Why didn’t I wear a skirt today?” Emery muttered under her breath as the man inspected her trews and the boy’s leine she wore under the tartan she’d borrowed from Darach.

To escape the scrutiny she went into the next cottage to be swept, but that turned out to be even emptier than the headman’s. A huge dusty spider web covered the back window, but as she lifted the broom to knock it down, the tall, blue-eyed woodcutter appeared outside.

Emery blinked, feeling a little uneasy. Up close the lowlander looked almost rudely handsome; he probably had dozens of girls chasing after him in whatever village he called home. Although he looked a bit grimy from his long trek to the highlands he had beautiful skin, and the kind of full lips that made it seem as if he’d just spent hours kissing someone. Yet there was also something almost sad in his eyes, or so she thought. Maybe he felt tired and she was just imagining it.

“Hello,” she said, lowering the broom as she took a step back.

The woodcutter smiled, making his sensual face look much younger. At the same time his eyes gleamed with interest.

“Fair morning, my lady,” he said in a beautiful tenor voice. “I’ve no’ seen you before today.” His gaze shifted over her as if he were measuring her for a new outfit. “My thanks for your work.”

Oh yeah, Emery thought. This guy definitely knows how to sweet-talk the maids.

“I’ll be done in here in a minute.” she said, keeping her tone brisk. “Can you step back so I don’t conk you in the head with the broom?”

“Permit me give you aid.” He used his hand to pull away the web and shook it off before he inspected her again. “You’re no’ a MacRoss.”

Why was he looking at her like he wanted to do a lot more than give her aid? Oh, right, I’m not dressed like the other girls.

“I’m visiting here for work, like you and your friends.” She would have imitated a Scottish accent, but it was too late and she had always been terrible at that kind of thing anyway. “If you’re hungry, we brought lots of food. It’s in the headman’s cottage.” Hopefully that would tempt him to go.

“I dinnae hunger for food.” The woodcutter leaned his arms on the sill as his boyish smile turned suddenly, lethally sexy. “I’m Callen.”

Emery felt bewildered. She knew medieval-era men were pretty straight forward about what they wanted, but no one had ever looked at her like Callen did now. Except Luthias. Since their first kiss the laird always looked at her as if she were wearing nothing but lingerie in front of him. Maybe I just think that because I want to strip every time we’re together.

“Nice to meet you, Callen.” She wondered if she was supposed to curtsey, and then to be polite bobbed anyway. “I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“You repeat yourself, my lady,” he chided. “’Tisnae work suited to you. How shall I call you, then?”

“My name is Emery.” She tightened her grip on the broom, and wondered why she felt so alarmed. He was just being nice...or maybe smiling and removing the spider web was his was of saying Come and have sex with me right now. Maybe she should make it clear why she had come to his camp. “I’m only here to help out with delivering the food and tidying up.”

“You’re no’ a highlander, nor a lowlander.” Callen tilted his head. “How you speak, ’tis strange. You dinnae sound like anyone I’ve met. Where call you home, Lady Emery?”

“I’m from another country. Ah, you wouldn’t know it.” This man definitely seemed too interested in her, but there was something about the way he was talking to her that wasn’t registering as correct in this situation. It actually felt a little menacing. “Excuse me, but I really do have to get on with the sweeping up in here.”

He nodded, touching his forehead, and then disappeared from view.

Emery let out the breath she’d been holding. “Wow. That was almost as scary as Cam kidnapping me.”

The maids came in with rags to help, and a short time later they finished and walked out of the last cottage. The woodcutters had built a fire in the big pit, around which they were sitting and drinking from leather bags. Emery smelled apple cider, which in this time she recalled was usually fermented into alcohol, and noted some flushed cheeks. She didn’t see Callen among them.

“Tom, bring the cart,” Magda called to him before she said in a lower voice to Emery and the other maid, “They’re drinking. We’ll be on our way.”

The woodcutters rose as they walked toward the path, touching their foreheads and calling out their thanks. Most of them gave Emery’s trews surprised looks, but no one said anything to her. As they walked back toward the stronghold Emery stayed beside the scullery, and talked to him about what his father did.

The boy seemed delighted to tell her about his father’s work at the castle tilling the grounds for the gardens in spring, and turning the soil after harvest in the fall. The tillers also helped distribute animal manure to nourish the soil, and cleared areas for new construction and other uses. The whole time they were walking, however, Emery had the strangest feeling that someone was following them. Yet every time she looked back at the camp all she saw were the woodcutters around the fire.

“’Tis something wrong, Mistress?” Tom asked her.

“Nothing at all.” Emery forced a smile. “I meant to ask you, do you know where the laird went this morning?”