Page 38 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

“I willnae,” Aurora agreed, feeling lighter than she had since she followed Hendry into the tunnels. “I always loved helpin’ knead the dough when I was a wee lass.”

When the two of them entered the kitchen, the savory smell of roasting meat reached Aurora’s nose. At one of the long counters at the center of the room, three kitchen servants were pressing the air bubbles out of their loaves as they spoke with one another. Rather than waiting for Mrs. Duncan to lead her over, Aurora went ahead on her own.

“Would ye like some assistance?” Aurora asked, keeping a respectful distance from the group. The last thing she wished to do was intrude. She remembered how the servants on her father’s land would sometimes have discussions they did not want her privy to. “I would love to make yer work go by faster.”

“Aye, the more hands the merrier, me Lady!” one of the women said, stepping to the side and making room for Aurora to join them.

“We are kneadin’ dough for the next several days,” another of the servants added. She reached into the middle of the table, pinching off a bit more than a handful of the dough. “Once we get through this batch, we will be makin’ another.”

“Then I will stay and help until we’ve finished,” Aurora said before she threw herself into the task.

For nearly fifteen minutes, the women worked in companionable silence. Aurora had nearly forgotten where she was, falling into the meditative work easily, when the servant across from her cleared her throat. Looking up without stopping her task, Aurora made a soft noise of acknowledgment, hoping to encourage her to speak.

“Has anyone ever told ye about how dedicated Laird Anderson was to protectin’ his people from the plague that swept through the land?” the servant asked. She was an older woman, someone who had likely been at the castle when the event had happened.

“I ken that he helped everyone,” Aurora said, returning her attention to the bread to hide just how interested she was in knowing more about the man she would soon be wed to. “And I ken that he is carryin’ out his mother’s healin’ work.”

“Aye, he is,” Mrs. Duncan said, the fond smile on her face evident even though Aurora was not looking directly at her. “In fact, he carried the ill children through the snow to the castle to save them. He even took in orphans that dinnae belong anywhere because he couldnae stand to see them sufferin’.”

“I dinnae ken he did that,” Aurora muttered as she threw her entire body weight into her next push.

It felt as if she had been given another piece to the puzzle that was Hendry Anderson, and for the first time, it seemed to make the picture clearer rather than more obfuscated. Despite his impenetrable exterior, he was kind, dedicated to the people he was meant to look out for. She understood then why everyone in the castle looked at him with such adoration.

“It isnae somethin’ he speaks about,” the first servant said. “He is incredibly humble.”

“I’ve noticed that he doesnae like speakin’ about himself,” Aurora said, choosing her words carefully as she considered the company she was in. “I believe he should. He should be proud of the things he has done for Clan Anderson.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Duncan said, already watching Aurora when she lifted her head once more. There was something knowing in the expression that had settled on her face. “The most he has allowed us to do is erect a wee monument for the victims of the sickness.”

“Because it isnae for him,” Aurora said, warmth that she did not ask for spreading through her body. “It honors the people that he lost.”

“Aye,” a servant agreed, her soft voice carrying them back into silence as they continued their task. “There will be a service soon. I believe the children are gatherin’ flowers for it.”

When they finished, all of the loaves settled on trays to proof before they would be baked; Aurora felt a bit steadier. Her mind felt renewed, as if the few hours that the passageways and her uncle were not on her mind had given her the energy to carry on. And she had a new perspective on Hendry.

She was not sure if he knew what he was truly up against with her uncle, but it did not feel like a betrayal of herself to trust that he would fight for her any longer.

Chapter Eighteen

“Idinnae ken that the nearest village was abandoned,” Aurora said from his left, her voice soft and respectful. It seemed as if she were mourning the clan’s losses as if she had experienced them firsthand. “I had only seen it at night. I thought that… I had nae clue.”

Hendry grunted, his eyes forward as he led the group toward the edge of the land. “Aye. The sickness ravaged the village. We saved who we could, but there were so few people left. We welcomed them into the castle.”

It was all he could do, bringing in the sick and then bringing in the survivors. The fact that he had been unable to do more haunted him. This vigil, coming together to honor those that could not be cured, felt as though it was not nearly enough.

“I am honored that I get to join ye,” she whispered as they came to the spot along the newly repaired wall.

He did not have a response that felt adequate, so he simply nodded his acknowledgement. She accepted it. The soft set of her mouth conveyed enough.

Ye understand loss too, daenae ye?

As the priest stepped forward to speak, Hendry tried to reckon with the fact that in only a few short days there would be a completely different kind of crowd at Castle Anderson. It was almost haunting to think that all the Lairds, with their wives and their children, would be here for their binding. Each room inside would be occupied. There would be more people than they had welcomed in nearly a decade.

We will be vulnerable. She will be vulnerable.

“And now, in remembrance of our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers,” the priest said, drawing Hendry’s attention back to the service, “let us light our candles and reflect on the lives that we lost years ago.”

A servant stepped to the front, holding a candle that was already burning. Two others walked through the crowd, passing a cream-colored candle to each family. The priest accepted one of his own as the first servant approached, dipping the wick into the flame. Then, cupping it to protect it from the light wind, he walked straight to Aurora, who had been given their shared candle.