Tempting the Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  The feeling was only compounded when she saw Lady McTiernay’s guest. At the far end of the room, near the main canopy, sat Laurel and her best friend, Aileen. During the second dinner party held in this very room, Raelynd watched as the two conversed. They did not talk as most friends do. They liked to plan and did so mischievously. Raelynd knew, for she, Meriel and Rowena often conversed in the very same manner.

  “Come! Come sit down and join us!” Laurel offered with surprising warmth. Such happiness compounded Raelynd’s anxiety. Meriel was right. Not all was as it appeared.

  Raelynd slid onto the bench located at the end of the table and Meriel sat down right beside her. “You asked for our help, Lady McTiernay?”

  Laurel smiled smoothly. “We are soon to be family,” she reminded them, hinting again of her skepticism. “So call me Laurel. And as far as help, it is much needed. Conor and I are going to be away for a few days and there is much to be done around the castle in our absence. Aileen will be watching my three along with her children, so she, too, will need assistance. It should keep you both fairly occupied and help prevent things from becoming too dull.”

  Raelynd almost physically deflated with relief at the mention of supporting the castle. Meriel, however, thought both responsibilities sounded dreadful. “I’ll watch over the children,” she offered, hoping it might be an option.

  Laurel shook her head. “You each have your strengths, but like everyone else, you have weaknesses as well. And as your guardian for the remaining two weeks of your engagement, it is my responsibility to prepare you as best as I am able for the role of wife.”

  Meriel swallowed. Wife? She didn’t want to become a wife or knowledgeable on domestic matters. She preferred focusing her time on more enjoyable activities such as weaving and embroidery. “While I appreciate your concern, I don’t think it is really necessary.”

  Laurel clicked her tongue and furrowed her brow disapprovingly. “Meriel, trust me when I say that it is. As a married woman, you will be responsible for maintaining a home. You told me yourself that you left such chores to Raelynd and I have noticed myself how you lock yourself in your room, completely unaware of all that must be done for you to eat and sleep, let alone weave.”

  Meriel glanced at Aileen. The woman possessed small feminine features but she was not remotely petite. Unlike Laurel, she preferred an arisaid over a bliaut, wearing the colorful plaid like a shawl, with a large silver brooch fastened at her breast. Her arms were muscular from manual labor and her hair, just a shade darker than Raelynd’s, was tied with a large square linen kertch. This woman might have been a friend to Lady McTiernay, but she worked hard.

  Meriel licked her lips nervously and said to Aileen, “I hope you don’t expect much.”

  Laurel sat back and shook her head, pretending to be puzzled. “Meriel, I think you misunderstood. You are to assist Fallon in my stead. Raelynd will be with Aileen, handling her responsibilities while she watches over the children.”

  Meriel felt her jaw drop as her heart began to pound hard, as if she had just run several miles. Please, she thought, please change your mind. She knew almost nothing of running a castle and had remained ignorant intentionally. The few aspects she was aware of seemed dreadful. Managing people, making decisions, fixing problems, dealing with sour personalities—there was never an end. Raelynd thrived on such authority. She should be the one taking Laurel’s place.

  Raelynd agreed. “I don’t understand,” she gritted out, unable to hide her anger. Finally, there was an opportunity to cast off the cloak of pampered daughter and demonstrate her management skills, but she was not going to be allowed to take it. “I think I would be far more useful in the castle. I know what Fallon expects much better than Meriel and he is not going to want to train someone in the ways of running a castle.”

  Laurel nodded her head and produced a slight grimace. “True. Fallon is not going to be pleased, but my decision still stands. It is unfair Meriel is completely unaware of all the work you do running Caireoch Castle for your father.” Then Laurel leaned closer so that Raelynd could see the seriousness swirling in her storm-colored eyes. “Experience of living another person’s life, even temporarily, can be invaluable, Raelynd. I won’t let anyone—including you—rob you of it.”

  Less than an hour later, Raelynd was reiterating those words to herself repeatedly. Laurel had been completely inflexible and unwilling to listen to either her or Meriel about modifying the assignments. Not only were they to perform all the daily chores that she and Aileen were responsible for, their duties were to start right then.

  Fallon had come in and announced that Laird McTiernay was ready to leave and that Laurel’s horse Borrail had been prepared and was waiting for her just outside the stables. Immediately, Laurel made her good-byes and departed, leaving Meriel in Fallon’s hands and Raelynd in Aileen’s.

  Aileen had asked if she wanted to change into something more durable than her kirtle, but Raelynd already considered herself dressed for laborlike activities, opting for a simple velvety overtunic instead of a bliaut. Besides, Raelynd had nothing more durable than her kirtle to put on. And the option of wearing an arisaid was unacceptable. Such garments were for village clanswomen who worked for a living, not for the daughter of a powerful laird.

  So without any further delay, Raelynd felt as if she had been conscripted as Aileen’s personal servant. If Laurel hoped to humiliate her with such a dictate, she was going to be disappointed. Raelynd refused to let her win. And if Laurel’s point was for Raelynd to learn a new skill, she would still be wrong for there was not one chore Aileen mentioned that she didn’t already know how to perform. No, for the next few days, she would do as requested and when she learned nothing from the invaluable experience of living another’s life, she would demand an apology. And she had better receive one or this farce was over. There was only so much her father could expect her to endure and she was hovering at that limit.

  Fallon pointed his finger at the scullery and Meriel recoiled. A few days ago she had watched from the kitchens, which were only just bearable, as her sister and little Brenna made soap. She squeezed through the tight entrance and into the open, surprised that the outdoor space was far bigger than she had believed. To her right was a small area where buckets filled with water waited for either clothes or utensils. To the left was a long narrow garden ensconced between what had to be the Lower Hall and the outer curtain wall. A dirt path wound its way through various bushes, fruit and nut trees, and vegetable patches, enabling someone to come and pick what was desired for that day’s meal.

  Fallon stayed inside the kitchen, refusing to attempt to squeeze through the unusually small opening. “Find Myrna. She’s Glynis’s daughter. Tell her that you are acting in Lady McTiernay’s stead.” Then, just as abruptly, he turned around and left, leaving Meriel to wonder how she was to know what to do and for how long.

  Meriel stretched her neck, but she could not see the garden’s end nor someone who might be named Myrna. With a grimace, she began to meander down the twisting pathway when a very sharp thornbush caught the opening to her long sleeve. No wonder Lyndee prefers kirtles, Meriel thought to herself as she tried to free the delicate material from its captor.

  “Here, let me help you,” came a high-pitched, but not piercing voice from behind.

  Meriel looked back to see a very petite but busty young female hurrying to her side. Her dark brown hair was hanging in a single braid down her back, but its curly nature was evident despite its being tightly plaited. “There,” she said as she liberated Meriel’s sleeve. “I’m Myrna and you must be Meriel.”

  Meriel stood with her mouth open for a few seconds before replying, “How did you know?”

  Myrna’s laughter had a musical quality to it and instead of coming across derisive it invited one to join in. “Your sister was back here one time and I asked how to tell you and her apart. Her answer was to just look at your faces. The one who looks completely lost and uncomfortable would be her
sister, Meriel, or well . . . you.”

  The answer made complete sense and it would be something Raelynd would have told someone who spent their time in scullery gardens. “I . . . I am here to help. Or to find you. Or to order you to do something. Or . . .” Meriel said rapidly, stumbling over the words. “Myrna, I have no idea what I am here for. Lady McTiernay wants me to be her while she is gone and I have not a hint at what that means or entails.”

  The surprised expression on Myrna’s face made it clear that none of the servants had been told of Laurel’s decree. Thankfully, Myrna recovered quickly. “I shall pretend you are Lady McTiernay . . . and that you cannot remember anything about our normal routine. Would that work?”

  Meriel nodded in relief and began to weave her way through what she learned were onions and beets, discovering how to decide which vegetables were ready to be picked. In the end, it was the Lady of the Castle’s decision as to what was to be eaten that day. But before the meals could be prepared, Meriel would have to find out which crops had been harvested from the larger fields and what meats were available from the morning’s hunt. Never did Meriel realize how much went into preparing a simple meal for so many. But she had been given little time to dwell on the concept before being ordered to oversee another chore.

  “Lady Meriel?”

  Meriel immediately stood up, embarrassed to have been caught sticking her rear in the air as she inspected the rushes in the Lower Hall. Food and drink had spilled everywhere their first night due to the fight between Conan and his brothers. Fallon had left her there with the charge of deciding just which rushes should be replaced. Meriel’s first response—to just replace them all—had been met with a withering glare and a lecture about wasting time and money required for necessary things. Yet when she asked why replace them at all then, Fallon’s contempt more than doubled and he gave another sermon on the perils of inviting unwanted creatures.

  Meriel wiped her hands on her dress, no longer caring if her bliaut remained clean. She had always thought the Lady of the Castle directed activities from afar, not in person. No wonder she rarely saw Raelynd during the day. “I am Lady Meriel.”

  The older clansman took a step closer and nodded with relief. “I’m Jaime Darag.”

  Meriel looked up, understanding why he was named after an oak tree. The man stood nearly seven feet tall, hunched. “Aye, Jaime, how can I help you?”

  “I am the main candle maker for the McTiernays, my lady, and it being Monday, I am to make the candles for the stairwells, hallways, and servants’ quarters.”

  Meriel stared at him, wondering why he was talking to her. He obviously knew what needed to be done. “Do you need to know how many to make?” she guessed.

  Jaime chuckled. “No, my lady. I know the number, but there is no tallow in the storehouse and without it I cannot make the candles.”

  “Oh, you need to find Fallon, Jaime. I’m sure he knows where the tallow has been moved.”

  The old man looked at her strangely and said, “The steward told me that you were seeing to such matters.”

  Meriel grimaced, remembering the candles in the North Tower stairwell and how most of them had already been consumed and needed immediate replacement. She had no idea what tallow even looked like let alone if Lady McTiernay had any. “Is there nothing else you can make candles out of?”

  “I could make them with beeswax, my lady. But I need permission.”

  The door opened and another man came in, but this one was far younger, shorter, and more portly. He was also agitated and was doing nothing to hide his frustration.

  Returning her focus to the candle maker, Meriel asked, “Do you know where some beeswax is? I mean do we even have any?”

  “Oh, aye, my lady. Lady McTiernay always ensures there is beeswax available for candle making.”

  Meriel smiled and clapped her hands together. Problem averted. “Then I give you my permission to make today’s candles with beeswax, Jaime Darag.” She had scarcely finished the sentence when Jaime turned to leave and the angrier man stepped forward. “Let me guess, Fallon sent you to me.”

  “Aye,” the man replied, crossing his arms. “You need to do something about those dogs!”

  Meriel blinked. Dogs? “What . . . dogs?”

  “Clyde’s dogs. He left them here and with Meghan visiting Lady Ellenor up north they are running loose and this morning they broke in and snatched most of the bread before I could chase them out again. Now there’s not enough to feed everyone tonight. You need to decide just who is going without.”

  Meriel felt her mouth drop open. This could not be a typical day. And if it were, she had been right to loathe the job of Lady of the Castle. It was a nightmare without measure. She would rather be Myrna, who had to cut the vegetables, clean the pots, skin the meat, and deal with Fiona—the most disagreeable cook ever to be born.

  With a sigh, she pointed to the door and followed the baker to the scene of the crime. She was no more than fifteen feet into the courtyard, when a scream was heard just as several of the livestock broke free from their pens. Within minutes the stable hands had the animals back under control, but not before three carts full of goods were turned over and several people got knocked down, some of whom were slow to rise on their feet again.

  “My lady!”

  Meriel shivered and glanced at the boy racing across the courtyard, ignoring the mess and the chaos around him. “The steward wants to know your decision about the Lower Hall’s rushes.”

  Meriel closed her eyes. The next time the priest gave a sermon on hell, she would know just what he meant. She needed to last through today. For tomorrow, she was going to convince her identical twin sister to take her place.

  Raelynd turned the village well’s handle and stared incredulously at the empty rope. Someone had removed the bucket, making it impossible for anyone to get any water. She was already angry for being made to do servants’ work, which had been compounded upon learning that the water she needed to clean everything with needed to be obtained by her.

  Grabbing the two empty buckets, Raelynd marched back to Aileen’s cottage, located not far from the well, but certainly not close either. Inside, Aileen was playing with Bonny, teaching her how to stack wooden blocks high without them falling over. The boys were jumping around using blankets from the beds as capes and sticks for swords. Raelynd felt her frustration rise again at seeing the woman do nothing but entertain herself and several children.

  “Aileen?” No response. “Aileen, there is no bucket in the village well. We are going to have to get one of the servants to bring us water from the castle’s water supply.”

  Aileen grinned at the little blond girl in front of her and shook her head. “No, no, no,” she cooed. “One of the boys must have taken it again. Just tie one of ours on the rope.”

  Raelynd opened her mouth to protest. Tying one bucket to the rope meant she would only have one to carry water, doubling her labor and her trips. Saying so would be pointless as it had obviously happened before and this had been Aileen’s solution. Forcing herself to remain silent, Raelynd took both buckets back to the well and did as suggested.

  During the third trip, Raelynd felt her fingers begin to ache as the metal handle pinched her skin. She switched back to her right hand, but it had not recovered from carrying it previously. Carrying two buckets would not have been possible. They were incredibly heavy and the weight of the water only seemed to grow with each trip.

  “There,” she said, nearly out of breath as she almost dropped the bucket onto the table.

  Aileen looked down at the damp wood from where the water had sloshed over. “Well, I guess you can begin with the table. Today is cleaning day and everything in this cottage must be scoured and rinsed.” Seeing Raelynd’s appalled expression, Aileen waved her hand and smiled as if she understood the horror she was asking. “Finn hates his home to be soiled in any way and it wasn’t until I had Gideon that I could convince him to reduce the chore to once a week! Anyway,
there’s a cloth on the chair behind you. Just dip it in the water and start here at the table and work your way through this room and into the bedrooms. Oh, and before it gets much later, you should think about supper. Finn will be coming home in an hour or so and will want something to eat as will the children, myself... and you of course.”

  The simply stated request vexed Raelynd enormously. “I’m supposed to cook supper? Am I also to prepare tonight’s dinner?” Raelynd gasped.

  “No, no. Just this afternoon’s meal. Because Finn is the commander of the laird’s elite guard, we are invited to the castle to dine at night.”

  “But I can’t . . .” Raelynd whispered as terror twisted in her stomach. She had overseen the preparation of food and meals many times, but to cook it herself? She didn’t know where to begin.

  “I do it every day. Be glad you don’t have to manage the young ones at the same time.” Aileen chuckled with supposed encouragement. “I’ll talk you through the steps and you will realize it is not that difficult a task. The meat can wait until tomorrow to be skinned. Finn won’t like it but he can survive until dinner on just vegetables, fruits, and bread.”

  Raelynd felt as if her chest had collapsed and all the air in her lungs had escaped. Was Aileen serious? Skin the meat? Raelynd was more than familiar with the onerous chore and had yelled at many a scullery maid for wasting meat by skinning it poorly. But physically doing the chore itself? Never.

  “Tomorrow you will need to make a trip either to the castle or one of the nearby farms for more vegetables, but I am fairly certain we have enough to feed everyone today,” Aileen said as she continued looking around. “You’ll need more water for cooking the vegetables and of course you’ll need to start the fire. Oh, I didn’t clean the hearth this morning, so that must be done first. At least the outside woodpile has been replenished.”