Page 44 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“Yer cook makes a delicious pork roast. Is his stewed meat as good?”

Alistair smiled. “His stewed meat is excellent. I wasnae entirely lying when I said I had a cravin’ fer it. The cook is a braw hand with stews and stewed meats and pottage o’ all kinds, and we eat well in late fall and winter, nae matter what is in the larders.”

“And the loss o’ a pig willnae hurt ye?”

Alistair shook his head. “We’ve enough tae get through the winter, unless there’s a true disaster. And Ewan will have brought one that we could afford tae lose.” He took another bite of his meal. “Tis almost time fer doin’ the winter slaughterin’ and smokin’, in any case.”

“Ye have a time fer that?” Niamh’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “Me faither always insisted on only culling what was needed, when ‘twas needed.”

“Here in the Highlands, snows and winds will steal yer heat and yer breath in the middle o’ winter. ‘Tis part o’ the Samhain preparations and celebrations tae gather in all we’ll need, so much as we’re able, so fewer folk will have tae brave the bitter cold.” He paused. “There’s also offerings tae the dead, come Samhain’s eve, fer luck and love and safe passage. Everyone has someone they give a gift tae, be it a lit candle, or some meat or fruit. And gifts are given between kinfolk, tae symbolize the ties that bind us taegether, and offer hope fer greater ties in the coming year.”

“I look forward tae learning all about it.” Niamh smiled.

“The women o’ the castle will show ye whatever ye need tae ken. Catriona can help introduce ye, and show ye where different preparations are made.” Alistair drank his beer and refilled his cup, then offered her the pitcher. Niamh shook her head.

“What happens after lunch?”

Alistair scowled. “After lunch, I begin workin’ tae find whoever sent that poisoned sweet tae ye, and whoever gave it tae ye. Ye said it was a child?”

“Aye. A little girl.” Niamh nodded, but her eyes were now troubled - a fair match to his own feelings.

“Ye said dark hair, lighter eyes, tanned skin, and nae so old. Can ye guess how many years she had? Or tell me aught else about her?”

Niamh frowned, then closed her eyes, obviously making an effort to recall details. “She was slight, small - I wouldnae put her past six or seven years o’ age. Quiet. Her clothing wasnae anything special, what I saw o’ it. Clean, mayhap slightly faded, but naething that stood out. ‘Twasnae overly worn or stained.”

She opened her eyes and gazed at him with distress in her features. “I’m sorry. I cannae recall much more. She was cloaked, and kept her gaze lowered.”

“’Tis all right. That’s enough tae begin with.” Alistair reached across to clasp her hand, very gently, for a brief moment. “Finish yer lunch. And then find some way tae tak’ yer mind off things. Whatever ye wish tae dae.”

The rest of the meal was quiet, and afterward, Alistair excused himself, leaving Niamh sitting by the fire, watching the flames. He found the serving woman who sometimes served as a child minder during feasts, and drew her aside. “I want ye tae speak tae the maithers and faithers o’ every parent ye ken, castle and village alike. Have every child between four winters and fourteen brought tae the gardens, including the page boys. I want them gathered within the candle-mark, whatever it takes.”

“Yes me laird.” The woman hurried away, and Alistair took a deep breath, before making his way to the gardens. He intended to be there to speak with the children as they arrived, so he could question each one individually.

Niamh had said the mysterious child was a girl, but he knew boys sometimes had high soft voices, before they experienced their first growth of manhood, and plenty of boys wore their hair long. They usually had it bound back, but that didn’t mean they would have if they were practicing deception. It was a slim chance, and unlikely, but he was unwilling to leave any avenue of investigation untouched.

Even if the child wasn’t one of the castle or village children, there was a chance that one or more of the younglings would have seen or spoken to the child. Children tended to congregate together during feasts and festivals. A child separate from the rest would have drawn more attention than a strange child lingering on the edge of the crowd of other youngsters.

The first of the castle youngsters appeared. Jared, a young squire of only twelve years, his eyes wide as he approached. “Me laird? I was told ye wanted tae speak tae me.”

“Aye. I want tae ken if there’s aught ye can tell me about what happened at the feast.” He saw panic start in the boy’s eyes and raised a hand. “Dinnae fret, I’m nae accusing ye o’ aught. But there’s a chance ye might have seen the child who gave Lady Niamh the sweet, and any information can be helpful.”

Jared nodded, his expression transforming from frightened to determined within a breath. “I’ll dae me best, me laird. I was serving the Elders for most o’ the feast, but I’ll tell ye all I can.”

“All right then lad, start by telling me everything ye can remember about that night.”

Niamh wasn’t sure how long she spent staring at the fire after Alistair left. Her thoughts were all in a muddle, questions about the curse mingled with concerns about her role in the castle and her ability to perform the duties of the Lady MacDuff.

I cannae just sit here and dae naething. If I want tae be a proper Lady MacDuff, I need tae make the effort tae learn the things I dinnae ken.

Resolved to seek out Catriona and ask some more questions, Niamh stood and left the study. She collected her cloak and stepped out into the cool air of an autumn midafternoon. She was partway across the courtyard when the chatter of childish voices caught her attention. Curious, she turned her steps toward the garden to see what was going on.

Alistair sat on a bench, surrounded by children of varying ages. None of them looked like the little girl she’d seen but all of them were watching the laird of Clan MacDuff with solemn expressions. One of them, a slim, sturdy-looking lass who appeared to be about ten years old, was speaking to him while the others murmured every now and then. Niamh slipped closer, unseen by the group.

“... ye dinnae recall seeing her again?” Alistair’s voice was quiet, and surprisingly gentle for such a gruff warrior.

“Nay. I thought…” The girl hiccupped. “I thought she was from a far village.” A soft sniffle. “She came late… I think…”

“’Tis all right.” Alistair put a hand on her shoulder and drew her in to lean against him. “Ye couldnae have kent. Nae any o’ ye could have. But everything ye can tell me will help tae prevent trouble the next time.”