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“No, Janice,” he replied. “It would be wrong. You will have to marry someday, and this would ruin you for your husband. As well as that, what if you conceived a child? Besides, your first time should not be leaning against a cold stone wall with a man you don’t know very well, but in a soft feather bed with the man who marries you. I am not that man, and I never can be.
“I am sorry. I wish I could grant your wish. You have no idea how much I want to because it is my wish too…but I cannot. Please forgive me.
“I must go now. Before I change my mind. Goodnight, Janice.”
His voice was husky as he turned and walked away, and his head was bowed as he looked downward, feeling ashamed. Presently, he began to descend the stairs and was lost from her sight.
Janice watched him, her eyes moist. She had thought about using her feminine wiles to bend him to her will. Feminine wiles, indeed! She almost burst out laughing at her own naïveté. She obviously had none, or none to speak of, or perhaps she was too inexperienced and had given in too easily. Whatever the reason, Bernard had been unimpressed.
* * *
Bernard could not bear the thought of going back to the room he shared with William. Instead, he went down to the kitchen to ask for some hot milk to drink before he went to sleep. He entered the big room and looked around.
The kitchen was well-organized, much more so than the one at William’s castle. The kitchen maids were methodically scraping the dishes clean of food, handing them over to be washed, washing and drying them, then putting them away. It was like a military drill, and he wondered if Janice’s hand had been at work here. Then he dismissed the thought. He really was a sad case. Janice was only one woman who had a flair for organization, but she was not responsible for every well-run process on the estate.
He was standing behind a stack of barrels, unnoticed by everyone, when one of the kitchen maids came to place a dish on a shelf close to where he was standing. Suddenly she caught sight of him and squealed, then jumped back in fright, causing the dish she was carrying to fall and shatter on the stone-flagged floor.
Bernard leaped forward to catch her before she fell on her backside, gripping her arms with his strong hands. The young woman looked up at him, at first in fear, then in relief, and finally in admiration.
“I am so sorry,” he said, genuinely distressed by what he had done. “I did not mean to startle you.”
He looked down at the hundreds of shards of pottery that had scattered in a wide area around them, then stood up straight to face the small muscular woman who was striding toward him with a face like a thunderstorm.
Hettie McCafferty, the cook, was a woman in her middle years who had served the Stewart family for thirty years. She had started as a kitchen maid at the age of fourteen and learned her craft as she gained experience until she was now the head cook.
She ruled the kitchen with a rod of iron, and no one, not even six-foot-two warriors, intimidated her. Now, even though she had to tilt her head back to a painful degree, she glared up at Bernard without fear, and he reflected that he would hate to meet her in battle.
“Are ye mad, ye big eejit?” she yelled. “What dae ye mean comin’ intae my kitchen an’ scarin’ my lassies half tae death? Look at the mess ye made! That was one o’ my best bowls!” She punched him in the middle of his chest with enough force to make him take a step backward. “Ye nobs always think ye can just barge in here an’ demand things! Well, I am here tae tell ye that ye cannae.”
The little woman stood back and glared at Bernard in such a belligerent fashion that he felt quite intimidated for a moment before he rallied and said fiercely, “Mistress, I am not a ‘nob’ as you choose to call me, just a person who works for a laird, like you. I came to see if I could get a cup of hot milk. I had no intention of scaring anyone, and I am very sorry. I hope the young lady is well.”
He looked at the kitchen maid in concern, but she was already going about her business and had fetched a broom and a bucket to clear up the mess on the floor.
“Which laird?” the woman asked suspiciously.
“Laird Ballantine,” he answered. “And I am a friend of his son’s.”
“Ah, the one who has a bed in the young master’s chamber,” Kitty said, nodding sagely. “Is he scared o’ thieves breakin’ in in the middle o’ the night?”
Bernard chuckled. “No, mistress.” He shook his head, unable to explain the strange middle ground he occupied between servitude and privilege. “We are good friends and like to talk a lot.”
“Is that why ye talk like a nob?” one of the other maids asked.
“I suppose so since we were brought up together,” he replied, smiling. Then he bowed and turned away. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, ladies. Goodnight.”
“Wait!” Kitty ordered, and ushered him toward the big table that ran down the center of the room, where some of the other kitchen maids were enjoying a few moments’ rest. “I will get ye some milk. Sit doon.”
The kitchen maids willingly made space for him since it was not every day that a tall, handsome man of heroic proportions made his way into their domain. After a few moments, after the cook had given him his milk, into which she had drizzled a generous amount of honey, some more of them drifted across to hear what he had to say.
Before long, they were talking, laughing, swapping life stories, and cracking jokes. Bernard felt at ease in their company and was glad that he had come to the kitchen. He was also gaining some valuable information about the estate and the way it was run. The ladies, all determined to impress the handsome stranger, were only too willing to tell him about everything and everyone in the castle and the village. He was not surprised to find that they held Andrew and Alasdair in the same contempt as everyone else did and Janice in high esteem. They loved Laird Stewart too and were sad to think of his upcoming death.
Once Bernard had charmed all of them thoroughly, he sighed and stretched, making some of the women almost faint with admiration. He smiled at them all and bade them goodnight.
“Come an’ see us again!” Kitty ordered sternly. “Or we will come an’ get ye!”
Bernard saluted. “Yes, ma’am!” he said, in a tone of deep respect. “Should I bring wine?”
There was a great chorus of ayes before he bowed and smiled at them, then left.
