When they first set out, Rosalie tried to speak with her friend, but all efforts were cut down by Anna, pretending not to hear or trotting off ahead in avoidance. She might as well have been alone. She tried not to let it bother her and turned her thoughts to Alexander’s talk to pass the ride.
It left her wondering if he wanted her there or not. The way he counseled her left her uncertain, yet eased her heart in many ways. Her eyes flitted towards Anna. Would she be happy with only seeing her once a year? Anna tore through the courtyard with Rosalie at her heel, struggling to keep up with her tired, angry friend.
The servants’ entrance was through a narrow close. The stone passage curled from the courtyard around to a door leading into the kitchens. Anna slammed a heavy knocker against the solid wood.
“Yer gonna have tae talk tae me eventually, Anna.” Rosalie leaned up against the stone wall, watching her friend fidget.
“I shouldn’t have tae lie fer ye, Rosie. It ain’t right, an’ they’re gonna know.”
She turned her gaze on Rosalie, and the woman touched her collarbone instinctively. The guilt showed through as if it caused Anna some physical pain.
“We’re lucky Magda wasn’t ‘round this mornin’. She would’ve yanked it from me like a thorn.”
Her eyes were wet, threatening to spill tears at any moment. Anna growled and slammed the knocker once more. Rosalie pulled her friend back and held her at arm’s length. “Repeat after me: ‘I don’t know.’”
Anna turned her eyes away. She humored Rosalie, but the words came out rushed and quiet.
“An’ again. Look at me.”
Anna’s eyes rolled over to Rosalie. Annoyed, she snapped, “I don’t know!”
Any louder and the lady of the castle would have heard. The door flew open, and Rosalie and Anna jumped to regain their composure. A squat, red-faced woman eyed them with suspicion.
“We’re here t’ sew gowns.”
The woman gave them a nod and then opened the door. “Fergive me manners. I though’ ye were gonna try an’ sell me somethin’ or ask me fer scraps. Seems more people use tha’ door to ask sumfin’ o’ me than the work. Heh!”
They followed the woman, toting their supply baskets through the hallways, careful not to knock anything over.
“Yer en fer a treat today.” The woman tore open a set of curtains. Sarcasm accompanied her rush to leave them to get back to her duties. “Gale’s a real charmer, she is. When she’s done wit’ ye, jus’ show yerselves out the same way ye came.” Her hands rested on two elegant double doors. “An’ don’ let ‘er see that she’s got to ye.”
The look in the woman’s eyes was the first hint of something softer laying beneath her steel demeanor. Anna gulped. Rosalie nodded. The three squared off in front of the double doors and took a deep breath.
The doors entered onto a modest, well-lit drawing-room. The blonde girl sat in a bay window; her forehead pressed in boredom against the narrow, stone cut out.
“Get out o’ here, Elspeth, I can smell yer fat arse from here.”
The plump woman bristled as if her invisible plumage would rise in defense, before slicking back under better judgment.
“Good luck,” she muttered before closing the doors behind Rosalie and Anna. The snap of the latch locking made Anna jump. Gale did not look at them; she continued to stare out at the people below. She let out a long sigh, and then, without turning around, she snapped, “Well, are ye two jus’ goin’ tae stand there all day, or are ye goin’ tae work?”
Rosalie stepped forward. Anna could handle people such as Gale, but Rosalie wanted to keep her from having any worse day than she was already experiencing.
“I need ye tae stand fer measurements.”
Gale rolled her head, her eyes glazed with a dead, bored stare. Rosalie did not stand down or waver. She stood with her head high and waited for Gale to comply. Without a posse of young maids around her, she looked younger than Rosalie and Anna, and with the attitude to accompany it. Anna and Rosalie were fast. Time was money, and the less time they had to spend with a spoiled girl with a title they didn’t care about, the better.
Rosalie looked around the room. “I’ll need yer fabrics, tae.”
The girl looked about, as if in a daze. “Oh, aye,” she sighed again.
The blonde girl stood, her hands outstretched, anticipating the needs of her seamstresses. Her gaze remained fixed on Rosalie throughout the measurements. The cruelty Anna and Rosalie were expecting was absent. There were none of the snarky quips they expected; only apathy, which sapped the energy from the room. The girl chopped her arms as Anna rolled up the small marked tape. She waltzed across the room to another door.
Gale left the door open a crack as she slipped in. The room was in darkness. The two travelers could hear wailing, and upset voices escape the chambers.
“No, Mama,” was the only piece they could make out.
Gale reappeared with bright pink cheeks, slamming the door behind her. She dumped the fabric out in front of them on a table and took her seat at the window, her gaze fixed on Rosalie this time.
The emotional flush, just on the edge of tears, vanished from Gale’s face. A sullen pout and quick, intelligent eyes watched Rosalie, waiting for an excuse to lash out. Rosalie tried her best to pretend she didn’t notice. It made her hair prickle as if her eyes were pressing over her shoulder, scrutinizing each cut. Rosalie, flustered after poking herself, laid everything in her lap and looked up at the girl.
“Is there somethin’ ye want tae say?”
Anna’s lips parted as she looked between the two women with bated breath. If the girl had a kinder temperament, Rosalie would have pitied her. It was easy to see she was exhausted and troubled about something.
Her voice came out monotone. “I think my mum knows your mum.”
Chapter Ten
Rosalie blinked in disbelief. She looked toward the bedroom door and then back at Gale.
“What?”
Gale shrugged, leaning her back up against the hard stone. “I heard her talkin’ to Pa about it. They were both upset, an’ closed the door on me when they saw I was listenin’. Now Ma….” Her gray-blue eyes turned toward the attached bedroom, and her cheeks flushed bright pink once more.
Rosalie and Anna exchanged glances, unsure what to say. Anna returned to her stitches, but Rosalie could not help herself. “Who’s yer ma?”
Gale’s eyes narrowed, and Rosalie feared she would snap back to sharpness and anger at any moment. “Lady Catherine.” She looked Rosalie up and down. “Why would my mother associate with yer kind at all?”
Rosalie opened her mouth to explain she was an orphan and doubted they knew each other. Gale stood and raised the flat of her palm before she could speak. “Stop!” She walked across the room and slammed the door leading into the main hall.
The two women looked at each other. “What d’ye think that was about?” Anna whispered, keeping her eyes on the door leading to Lady Catherine’s chambers.
Rosalie was at a loss for words. She shook her head. “No clue.” She peeked up from her stitches. “Ye think Lady Catherine really knew my ma?”
Anna shrugged, pulling the thread through the fabric. “I mean it’s possible, but even if she did, how’d she know it were you, Rosie? Think abou’ it. Ye wouldae jus’ been a redheaded Scottish bairn the last time she saw ye. An’ how many o’ those ye think we got?” Anna smiled, and it warmed Rosalie’s heart.
“Ye still mad, then?”
Anna pinched her brows together. “Och, aye!”
Rosalie laughed. It was as if her friend just reminded herself to be sullen. “Well, when ye get off of it, ye mind jus’ forgettin’ it all an’ leave it up tae me to fix?”
Anna slumped her shoulders. “That’s the problem, Rosie, I cannot forget it. I keep thinkin’ abou’ it o’er an’ o’er.” She leaned in. “An’ the way he kissed you.” Anna’s head wagged.
“Aye,” Rosalie sighed, wishing the kiss was not inter
rupted. Silence overtook them as the women battled internally between right and wrong.
Meanwhile, Declan rode to the small traveler settlement tucked in an elbow bend between the river and his pastures. He towed a small cart filled with the remaining goods for Alexander to repair. His heart swelled and pattered as he remembered the night before with Rosalie. He hoped not to run into Enoch, not trusting his ability to maintain calm in the face of knowing as much as he did.
Declan was taken aback by the bright fabrics and paints adorning every piece of the camp. It amazed him to know they’d set up such a settlement in the little time they were there. The few men and women who stayed behind for the day stopped their work to stare at him as he rode past. Declan scoured their faces for the wild mane of red hair he longed to touch.
“Alexander is o’er there.” Magda stood outside of her caravan and pointed to where the old man worked in silence.
“Thank ye.” Declan wanted to ask after Rosalie, but he feared drawing attention and creating problems for her, so he nodded and walked his horse over to Alexander.
Alexander stood, brushing his hands on his apron before extending one to greet Declan. “My nephew said ye’d be comin’.” Alexander sat back down and continued to hammer at his work, “Ye can leave the rest in tha’ pile o’er there.” He gestured with a nod towards the goods laid out on a rug beneath an awning tapestry. “We’re grateful fer the work.”
Alexander eyed him. He had labored in repairs since boyhood and never seen someone spend so much all at once. Most of the items were not in dire need. Some of the pots only sported a small dent or the faintest marks of rust. Things most men and women had the skill and know-how to repair on their own.
“Aye.” Declan rubbed the nape of his neck. It seemed a bit rash now, as he eyed the pile and realized Rosalie was not even there. The thought of her off with Enoch somewhere gnawed at him as he unpacked his small cart.
“I mighta been a bit zealous,” he said, and then added, “yer wise tae send yer bonnie lasses ou’ the way ye did.”
To Declan’s relief, the old man smiled, his apple cheeks swelling beneath his long, white beard. “Catch yer eye, did they?” He gave the tall Highlander a sideways glance. Declan was distracted, looking closer at the camp, hoping Rosalie would appear, if only for a moment. Alexander could see the look in his eyes—although ignorant to the depth and target of its meaning.
“They’re workin’ hard in the castle today. I’m supposin’ ye saw ‘em dance?”
Declan sighed as he recalled Rosalie’s graceful sensuality as she spun in tandem with Anna. His excitement sank as he realized his ploy with the repairs would bring him no closer to her. Of course she worked. He imagined he would find her here sewing, and he could admire her from afar, maybe make her blush or flash the smile that enchanted him so.
“Yer Lady Margaret—"
Declan perked up and instinctively corrected Alexander, “Lady Campbell is no’ my lady.”
Although the two clans neighbored and shared the loch in peace, Declan could sense the tensions growing between him and the ambitious woman. Ever since her husband died at war, he felt as if they were one careless conversation from a skirmish over land.
Alexander nodded as if understanding. “Lady Campbell has invited us tae a feast.”
“Aye, on the morrow.” Declan’s mouth twisted as he thought of the evening. Politics were never his strong suit, even if he had fared well thus far.
“May I ask the opinion o’ a man who seems honest an’ knows these parts well enough?”
Declan was surprised. He could see the intelligence calculation in the old man’s eyes. “She’s asked us all tae come. Ma camp—will it go unmolested in our absence? An’ me people, will they be welcomed with hospitality?”
Declan understood. He looked around at the camp. Even now, it was left unprotected and although he had never held resentment towards outsiders, he imagined being a traveler came with gratuitous violence from time to time.
“As long as ye don’ move yer camp, yer safe under the protection o’ the Gregor clan. As fer the feast…” Declan thought of past events, and as much as he didn’t care for the proximity of the Campbells, he didn’t think her invitation was a trick to humiliate or harm them.
A painful memory of a group of drunk Campbells roughing up two small folk in a traveling acting troupe came to mind. Lady Catherine allowed the hazing to continue until one of the actors pissed themselves in fright. It angered him then and now.
“I don’ think the lady has raw intentions with ye, but it’s ne’er a bad idea to practice caution, ye ken.”
Alexander nodded, knowing all too well the cruel nature of people. “Would ye mind passin’ me tha’ tool there?” Alexander pointed to a table just out of reach and studied Declan’s response with curiosity. It was abnormal for anyone to hang around as Declan was, especially this close to harvest. Alexander noticed Magda’s gaze from across the camp. She watched with hard, set features as Declan passed the tool to Alexander without a flicker of condescension or thought. Alexander smiled as he caught Declan’s subtle search for someone not there.
“Can I get anytang fer ye, dear? If I knew ye were stayin’, I’d already have food out fer ye by now.”
This pulled Declan back to earth. He realized how odd it must seem for him to hover like that. He wondered if they were accustomed to visitors at all. He felt his neck flush, understanding he accidentally drew attention to himself.
Declan smiled, “No, thank ye; I shoul’ be goin’ back to work meself. ‘Twas good talkin’ with ye.” Declan shook Alexander’s hand once more before departing.
Declan’s horse trotted at a slow pace through the woods. He thought about the work that needed doing. He’d been excited to see Rosalie all morning, and now, it looked as if he wouldn’t have the chance. It drained any motivation he felt. With how the other night went, he doubted she would steal away from the camp in the middle of the night. Even if she did show up, he didn’t know how he could concentrate until he saw her and knew for sure.
The path split in two. Many trails led back to the pastures and small cottages, but this was the last chance to turn before he wound up at Kilchurn. When presented with the choice between the two destinations, thoughts of labor disappeared from his mind. His hands tugged at the reins.
Immediately, he questioned his decision. The work he initially planned for the day rose in his head. Instead of turning around, he thought up ways he could shift the workload around and procrastinate. He assured himself that Hugh would know what needed finishing and direct the other men as required.
When the towers of the keep peeked over the rolling hillside, he wondered what reaction Rosalie might have at seeing him. Now that Anna knew, he could speak freely in front of her. With their elders back at camp, the only person Declan had to worry about was the scoundrel Enoch, and that did not concern him. A part of him wished Enoch would discover them. If it were not for the fear Rosalie expressed, he would have betrayed her secret already and given Enoch a lesson in chivalry.
It was a bright, blue day. The sun shone down on the keep and sparkled over the rippling loch. Late summer grasses and herbs filled the air with a sweet, earthy scent. Declan caught himself smiling as he rode into town. Even though it seemed as if he didn’t pay attention to Rosalie as she danced, he was aware of her every move until he left. She would no doubt be working in the castle, and if not there, he would check with the more lucrative families.
Declan left his horse in the stable and made his way for the kitchens, “Elspeth,” Declan yelled.
“Dear me!” the squat woman about jumped out of her skin. “Declan! Why ye have tae do that to me?”
“My apologies,” he grinned.
“Yer in good spirits.”
“Aye,” He smiled. “Ye haven’t seen the two traveler girls, have ye?”
The woman’s eyes swam with motherly affection. “Aye, I have, an’ what would ye be doin’ lookin’ fer them, migh’
I ask?”
Declan tried to contain his smile, but the joy of new love was bursting from his pores like sunlight. He shook his head. “Where can I fin’ ‘em?”
The woman stopped what she was doing and wiped floured hands on her apron. “I’ll tell ye what,” she playfully squinted one eye, “ye fix tha’ damn door’s latch, ’an this shelf, an’ I’ll tell ye where tae find ‘em.”
“Yer a bit o’ a miser, no?” he jested.
Elspeth shrugged. “I take me opportunities as they’re given. We have a deal or no?”
“Aye, we have a deal.” Declan reached out his hand.
“They’re in the west side guest rooms, workin’. Keep an eye ou’ fer the lady and her dreadful bairn. I swear tha’ gal’s made o’ vinegar.” Declan turned and started for the door. “I wannit done ‘fore the feast, ye hear?”
Highlander’s Gypsy Lass (Highlander's 0f Clan Macgregor Book 1) Page 9
