Page 61 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

“Parritch?” Mrs. Wilson asked with a shocked gasp. “Are ye mad?”

It was hardly an expected choice for this kind of feast, Fia knew. The delegation would be expecting roasted meats, vegetables, bannocks, everything that would tell them just how rich and welcoming the Stuart Clan was. But if everything else failed, then porridge was plenty filling and it was one of those things that Fia had come to rely on in her life. There were always oats. There was always something to accompany them, giving them a nice taste without using too many ingredients.

“Trust me!” Fia said. “Parritch will work. Throw some salt in it an’ stir it constantly.”

“Pheasant, venison… an’ parritch,” said Mrs. Wilson, shaking her head as Fia rushed out of the kitchens, running down the halls. It was only when she spotted the delegation heading into the great hall that she slowed down, running a hand over her hair to make sure she looked presentable.

When Knox caught her gaze, Fia widened her eyes and nodded at him to come to her, the gesture as subtle as a bear hiding behind a rose shrub.

Knox excused himself and approached her, and her panic must have shown on her expression, as he, too, looked at her with a certain degree of fear in his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. “What happened?”

“There is an… issue,” Fia said. “The servants thought there would only be thirty guests an’ I… I dinnae ken what I’m doin’, Knox!”

Her words came out as a whispered hiss, the truth tumbling out of her. She truly had no idea how to deal with this, how to fix any of it, how to make him proud. In her mind, she had already failed. There was not much she could do. Even with the porridge served, the guests were bound to know something was amiss.

“It’s alright,” Knox told her, placing his hands on each of Fia’s shoulders and giving them a comforting squeeze. “It isnae that important, Fia.”

“It is!” she insisted, shrugging him off simply because she couldn’t stand still. She paced back and forth before him, her nervous energy seeping out of her in waves. “The elders… they’ll ken I failed. They’ll ken.”

“They willnae ken anythin’,” Knox said. “I promise ye. Come now, let us introduce ye tae our guests.”

“But the food⁠—”

“Mrs. Wilson will handle it,” Knox assured her as he took her hand and began to tug her away, towards the great hall. He sounded so calm, so confident, that some of Fia’s panic couldn’t help but dissipate. “Dinnae fash. Everythin’ will be fine.”

That was more difficult for Fia to believe, but she followed Knox nevertheless. With every step she took, with every step that took her closer to the delegation, her heart beat faster, harder, to the point that she feared if she opened her mouth to speak, it would leap right out of her throat. But then they were there, Knox making introductions she could only half-hear, her ears buzzing with all the panic and excitement of the day.

She was certain she exchanged pleasantries with the visiting council. She was certain she said the right things, spoke the right way, but by the end of it, she remembered nothing of it. There was only the feeling of Knox’s hand on the small of her back, encouraging her and grounding her as they all filed into the great hall, where the servants had only just finished setting up one more table.

There were enough tables and enough chairs, that much she could tell from a quick count. Still, her biggest fear was the food. Would Mrs. Wilson find a different way to make up for what they lacked? Would the cooks manage to bring out more food?

It didn’t take long for her question to be answered. As the servants began to serve the platters of pheasant and venison, the cured meats, the cheeses, the fruits, spreading the feast over the tables, they also brought out bowls of porridge, just as she had instructed.

When she glanced around the room, her fears were confirmed. Everyone was looking at the bowls with matching frowns of confusion—if not apprehension—on their faces.

Even Knox seemed a little taken aback by it.

As was customary, he stood to make a toast and Fia did her best to melt into the background, to disappear into obscurity before the council members could berate them with those familiar by then glares. Everyone’s attention seemed to be on Knox, though, as he delivered his welcoming speech, most of which Fia had missed already, wallowing in her panic.

“… an’ I hope ye’ll enjoy our cook’s specialty!” he said in a bright, cheery tone. “Ye’ve never had parritch like this, trust me.”

Fia’s head snapped to the side, her eyes wide as she took in Knox and the soft, kind smile he gave her. She was pretty sure porridge was far from the cook’s specialty, but naturally, the visiting elders didn’t know that.

“Thank ye,” she mouthed at him, only for Knox to shrug a shoulder and take his seat next to her. Still, her panic lingered, her hands shaking as she tried to cut a small, proper bite of pheasant and bring it to her lips.

It wasn’t until one of the visiting elders dug into his bowl of porridge with such gusto that those around him were quick to follow, praising the taste, that she allowed herself to relax a little. They were none the wiser. If anything, they truly seemed to enjoy it.

And yet, even as the night progressed and the feast proved to be a success, Fia couldn’t help but question her abilities. She had almost buckled under the pressure. Had it not been for Knox’s charm and Mrs. Wilson’s quick work, she wouldn’t have made it. Even in this, she needed other people’s assistance to complete her tasks successfully.

And not for the first time, she wondered if it would be best if Knox married someone else.