Highland Hero (12 page)

Chapter 4

Adair stared at the door that had been shut in his face. He was not accustomed to such things, especially not when he was in the middle of a conversation. Rose might think it was done, but he did not. Even as he considered the wisdom of following her into the house, he watched Sweetling stretch up, cleverly work the latch, and open the door. The cat then pushed the door open and walked inside, the other three cats right behind him. Adair shrugged and followed the cats inside. He smiled when Rose turned to stare at him in surprise.

“Your cat let me in,” Adair said as he followed her cats right into her kitchen.

Rose scowled at Sweetling as the cat sprawled on the hearth and began to clean himself. “Traitor.”

“I wasnae through talking with ye, Rosebud.” Adair sprawled in a chair at the table and started to look around.

It annoyed Rose that his use of the name he had given her as a little girl should cause a softening within her. “I was done. Just because I hadnae said what ye wished to hear didnae mean I wasnae done discussing the matter.”

“Ye are a stubborn lass. ’Tis a verra fine cottage ye have here. There are nay too many who have such fine fireplaces, yet ye have two. Or more? Upstairs as weel?” Rose nodded. “And good stone floors. More than one room and the same in the loft, I suspect.”

“And glass in the windows,” she drawled as she began to chop up some leeks for the stew she was making. “Some years have been verra profitable and we could afford such gentling touches to our home. Some things were done by those helped by the Keith women. We ne’er asked for anything, but people have their pride. I also think that, although a mon might be verra glad there is someone ready to help him feed his family, he needs to pay for that in some way. The fact that it was a woman who did so only makes that need greater. And so we find ourselves living in a verra fine cottage indeed.”

“Aye, a mon would need to dull the bite of failure e’en if he kenned it was nay his fault.”

She nodded. “A few things were done in trade. The mon who put a fireplace in my mother’s bedchamber jested that his wife was pinching at him for one. The right stone wasnae easy for him to find, nay on his land. My mother kenned where there was a good supply—right where she wanted to enlarge the garden at the rear of the cottage. The two of us would have needed years to clear that land, but the mon and his sons wouldnae. E’en better, he had the sort of rock that makes a good wall. So we got our garden, a goodly start to the wall, and his wife got a fine fireplace.”

“And everyone was satisfied.”

“Exactly. And no magic was used.”

Adair gave her a narrow-eyed look and helped himself to an apple from a large, elaborately carved wooden bowl on the table. “Lass, ye ken ’tis verra dangerous to let talk of magic continue.” He took a bite of the apple and was no longer startled by how it made him feel. “The way the food makes a person feel—”

“I ne’er feel anything different or unusual,” she said, staring down at the carrot she had begun to chop, for she found she was unable to directly meet his gaze while telling such a big lie.

“Ye ne’er were a verra good liar, Rosebud.”

She scowled at him, annoyed when that only made him smile faintly. “I feel something, but nay so verra much. My mother said that is because I am mostly content, with myself and with my life, and I have few scars upon my heart. When my mother was sad because she so badly missed my father, she said she was comforted by the food, could feel the spirit of the love he had for her. Since my mother died, I have often felt the same, only ’tis her I feel.”

He nodded. “I felt as if my mother soothed me. I e’en thought I heard her voice in my head.”

“Ah, ye are a troubled soul, so ye feel it more strongly. Most people feel, weel, soothed.” After her outburst in the garden, she decided it was foolish to continue speaking as if there was nothing odd about her garden.

“And why should it do that?”

“I told ye, I dinnae ken. In truth, I am nay sure I would have fully believed whate’er tale my mother may have told me if she had lived long enough.” She shook her head. “Mayhap ’tis just the water,” she muttered as she tossed the chopped vegetables into the stew pot hung over the kitchen fire. “No matter what I do or dinnae believe, it doesnae change things. Again, as I have said, it is what it is and does what it does. I am but the farmer and the harvester.”

“Weel, I dinnae think it is so verra simple.”

“Ye are welcome to your opinion.”

“Kind of ye.” He sniffed the air as she stirred the stew. “Smells good.”

“I am sure your cook has begun to prepare a verra fine meal for ye,” she said sweetly as she sat down and poured them each a tankard of sweet, cool cider.

“I wouldnae be so sure. Did ye ken that Old Helga died?”

“Oh, aye. So who cooks for ye?”

“Meghan, Old Helga’s niece.” He almost laughed at the grimace she could not fully suppress. “The lass was taught by Old Helga for near to ten years, but ’tis verra clear she ne’er heard a word.”

“I have heard that said about her.” Rose felt sorry for the people at Duncairn, for Meghan was said to be able to ruin a raw carrot. “Ye cannae keep her as the cook. I ken ’tis an important position, but mayhap ye can find one for her that is nearly as important. Then ye might watch to see which men rarely come to the meals. ’Twould mean they are being fed elsewhere. Ye might find a new cook there.”

“A good plan.” He smiled faintly. “And ye arenae going to invite me to eat with ye, are ye?”

“I cannae. By the time the food is ready and ye have eaten your fill ’twill be verra late and ye will have been here, with me, for a verra long time. ’Twill start whispers ye may find as upsetting as the ones about the magic of the garden.”

Adair finished off his cider and stood up. “I would nay be too sure of that,” he murmured and started out of the kitchen.

Rose followed him and inwardly cursed herself for a soft fool even as she said, “Send Donald here in an hour. I will send ye enough stew and a few other things to make ye, Robert, and Donald a meal. Just be sure to watch the food carefully around Donald. The lad’s stomach doesnae seem to have any bottom.”

“Roused your pity, did I?” he drawled as he paused in the doorway and looked at her.

“Weel, aye. And now I ken why Donald wanders by here more often than he e’er did before, and always near to the time I might be sitting down to a meal.”

“Clever lad.” He grasped her by the chin and held her face steady as she leaned down. “A fareweel kiss, lass.”

“Someone might be watching,” she whispered just before he brushed his lips over hers.

“Ye worry too much for a bonnie wee lass.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss that left her weak in the knees. Rose slumped against her door and watched him stride away as she fought to regain both her wits and her breath. It annoyed her a little that he did not seem to be equally affected, if that confident stride was any indication.

“Weel, that looked heated.”

Rose clasped her hand to her chest as her heart briefly leapt into her throat, then glared at Meg, who now stood directly in front of her. “Where did ye pop up from?”

“Weel, I was just about to rap on your door when the laird stepped out,” replied Meg. “So I slipped into the shadows just off to the side here.”

“Couldnae ye have just said a cheerful greeting and joined us?”

“I could have, but then I wondered why he was here. Then I remembered that ye were a wee bit scared when ye went to the keep. That started me thinking ye might have been right to be afraid and that matters had grown verra dire indeed. Thought ye might need rescuing.”

“Weel, as ye could see, I didnae.”

“I am nay so sure of that,” murmured Meg.

“And might I ask why ye are out at such a late hour?”

“Ah, weel, my father has gone off to a fairing to sell his bowls and the like. He will be gone two days, mayhap a little longer if the weather doesnae hold fine. I told him I could stay with you.”

Rose shook her head and almost laughed. “Ye are a wretched brat, but come on in. In truth, I shall be glad of the company. Something Mistress Kerr said today revealed that that cursed Geordie is lurking about again.”

Meg cursed as she stepped inside and set her bag down on a chair. “Someone should do something about that swine.”

“They should, but it willnae be you.”

“Weel, I might be able—”

“Nay. If the fool grabs me again, weel, much as I hate to do it, I will speak to the laird.”

“Good idea,” Meg said as she followed Rose into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “He certainly wouldnae like anyone mucking about with his woman.”

Rose sighed, collected a good-sized basket, and started to fill it with things that Adair and the others might like for their dinner. “I am nay the laird’s woman.”

“He was kissing you.”

“I ken it. That doesnae have to mean much at all, Meg. Men like to kiss women. To be honest, I rather liked kissing him. That is all it was, though—a kiss. E’en if I felt like it was more, it wouldnae matter. He is the laird and I am nay much more than a crofter on his lands.”

Meg snorted and shook her head. “The laird doesnae go about kissing just any lass. Fact is, he has been home a fortnight and hasnae e’en bedded a lass despite all the offers. Nay, ye can think what ye will and I willnae be telling anyone about all of this, but I think ’tis more than
just a kiss.”

“Mayhap he has decided he needs a leman to pass the time whilst he looks for a wife,” she said, hating to even speak the sudden suspicion infecting her heart.

“And I think the smell of those leeks ye put in the stew have addled your brain. The Keith women may not be lairds’ daughters, but they have all been better born than some crofter’s lass. The laird wouldnae choose ye for a leman. Ye can claim kinship with enough of the high-born Keiths to make ye a dangerous choice. But I am just a wee, skinny lass. I suspect ye will need someone older and wiser to talk sense into ye.”

“Do ye think ’tis the food that makes him want to kiss me?”

“If your food made people feel amorous, we would be tripping o’er rutting fools in the road.”

“Meg!” Rose tried to look shocked and stern but quickly gave in to the urge to laugh. “Ah, weel, I am just confused. Save for that fool Geordie who keeps trying to grab me, no mon has shown much interest in me. For the laird himself to be the first seems most strange.”

“Most of the men at Duncairn ken ye are a wee bit above their touch, and I think ye scare them a little. Nay because of the magic, but because ye can read and write and ye have these fine lands. I think the laird is a mon who cannae or willnae believe in anything he cannae see, touch, or feel, and he, more or less, owns these fine lands. What makes the other lads timid just isnae important to him.”

“Aye, that could be it.”

“Why are ye packing that basket with food?”

“Oh, it seems the cook at Duncairn is Old Helga’s niece Meghan.”

Meg grimaced. “I am surprised any of them are still alive up there.”

Rose grinned. “I ken it. I was moved to pity for the laird and told him to send Donald here to collect enough food for him, Robert, and Donald to have a fine meal. Dinnae frown; there will be enough for the two of us to eat as weel.”

“I wasnae frowning about that. I was frowning because that rutting boy is coming here.”

“Rutting boy?”

“He has been tumbling about in the hay with Grizel the alewife’s daughter.”

That explained some of the intensity that had lately been behind Meg’s insults, Rose mused. The girl was jealous, although Rose doubted Meg knew it or would admit to it if she did. It had to be hard for Meg, as she was too old to ignore it and too young to understand why it troubled her so. And if she did understand, she was too young to challenge Grizel in any way for Donald’s lusty attentions.

“Weel, all lads feel the need to test themselves in that way. I believe Grizel has been the testing ground for quite a few.” She grinned when Meg laughed. “ ’Tis unfair, but I doubt many men come to their marriage bed as innocent as they demand their wives to. I sometimes wonder if they feel the need more. And the first time for them doesnae hurt, though I suspect it may be embarrassing now and then.”

“And they dinnae need to fret that they may get with bairn.”

“Verra true. Grizel willnae. She takes a potion, ye ken. ’Tis nay one of mine. I dinnae like to deal in such things except when asked by some wedded woman who needs a wee rest from the birthing bed. But I have studied what Grizel takes and I cannae like it. Told her so, but she wouldnae heed me. I fear she may ne’er have a child; probably doesnae need to take the potion at all now.”

“Oh. She has hurt herself.”

“Aye.” Rose spooned out a large quantity of her stew into a pail and then covered it. “So, if Donald has reached the age to test his monly wings, so to speak, at least he willnae leave a trail of bastards behind him. And mayhap ’tis nay such a bad thing that the lads put themselves to the test a few times ’ere they wed. It cannae hurt to have at least one of the newly wedded couple kenning what to do.” She shared a giggle with Meg, pleased to see that the shadow of hurt had left the girl’s eyes.

“That must be Donald,” Meg said when there was a rap at the door.

“Ye stay here. I dinnae wish an argument to start between the two of ye, for the food will get cold.” As she hurried to the door with the food she had packed, Rose admitted that it really was going to be nice to have Meg visit for a few days.

It was late by the time Rose sought her bed. She closed her eyes and cursed when her mind filled with thoughts of Adair. Just thinking of his kisses had her lips aching for a return of his. It had helped a little to speak of her fears with Meg, but the girl was right—she really needed someone older to discuss it all with. There was no one, however, so she was doomed to try and sort out her confusion all by herself. Rose found herself very afraid that she might allow her heart to lead her into a great deal of trouble.

Chapter 5

“Rose? Where are ye?”