Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires)

by Suz deMello

  How had he known she’d entered the room?

  She smiled at him and proceeded on her way. He seemed somber, she reflected as she entered the kitchen behind Fenella. Probably telling milaird about Malcolm. Her throat closed and she swallowed.

  She shook off her mood. The kitchen, like everything in Kilburn Castle, seemed oversized, in keeping with the stature of its occupants. Long tables suitable for chopping, mixing and the like ran down the center of the room and along two sides, while the other walls supported ovens and hearths. Pots bubbled and haunches of meat hung over glowing coals, tended by several servants in neat, dark skirts topped with white blouses, caps and aprons. “Any clansman can eat here if they wish,” Fenella explained, “and many do, though the crofters prefer to cook in their own homes. And we feed the guards, the servants and the family.” She smiled at Alice. “There’s generally a snack to be had should you or the children be hungry.”

  “And they often are, I would think,” Alice said.

  “Yes, they be growing faster and faster. Grizel!”

  A thin blonde woman detached herself from a trio scaling fish. Drying her hands on her apron, she approached. She had high cheekbones, a sharp nose and watery, protuberant eyes, in marked contrast to the Kilburns and even Fenella, who was small, round and ruddy, with white overtaking the few auburn curls that peeked from beneath her ruffled cap.

  “This be Mistress Alice, wife to Dugald and the bairns’ new governess,” Fenella told her.

  “Wife?” Grizel’s eyes widened even more. Was her surprise tinged with jealousy?

  “Yes,” Alice said calmly. “We handfasted on our journey. It seemed appropriate.”

  “Mistress Alice arrived this morn and needs help learning her way around. Her luggage should be up in their room by now. Please show her about and help her to get settled in.”

  “Am I to be her maid?” Grizel asked Fenella.

  Alice noticed that Grizel hadn’t addressed her directly. “I have no need of a maid,” she said swiftly. “I’ve always got along well without one. But I will need that extra wardrobe milady mentioned.”

  “Aye. Grizel, take Mistress Alice abovestairs in the Laird’s Tower to look at the stored furniture, and ask a guardsman or two to move what she wants.” Fenella turned to the pair scraping fish, who had stopped to watch the exchange. “Rose, Agnes, this be Mistress Alice, Dugald’s new wife and the bairns’ governess.”

  “Welcome to Kilburn.” Rose wore the same livery as the other servants over a slender frame that bulged with a pregnancy.

  “Aye.” Agnes, evidently a lass of few words, turned back to her task.

  “Come, let’s get help,” Grizel said to Alice as Fenella bustled over to one of the stew pots and gave it a vigorous stir.

  Alice followed Grizel out of the kitchen through a back door that led outside, into the courtyard near one of the great stone walls enclosing the bailey. “This is an extraordinary fortress,” she said. “Is that the oldest tower?” She pointed at the damaged keep.

  “Aye.” Grizel scratched her chin and her eyes narrowed. “’Tis a monstrous interesting place, the auld tower. Ye might wish to explore it.”

  “Lady Lydia says it is dangerous.”

  Grizel shrugged. “She’s a cautious one. Bairns make a woman so.”

  “Well, then. Shall we?” Alice marched across the courtyard in the direction of the old tower, but stopped when she noticed Grizel wasn’t following. She turned and raised a brow.

  Grizel didn’t move, but her expression shifted and changed into something Alice couldn’t define. She returned to Grizel’s side and asked, “What?”

  “Um…p’raps some other time. We’ll be expected back at the Great Hall soon for the noonday meal. Let’s go in and I’ll get a couple of the guardsmen to help with the furniture later.”

  Following Grizel, Alice reentered the Garrison Tower by way of the front door. Inside, servants were readying the Great Hall for the noontime meal. Her belly gave an unladylike rumble. Involved with meeting two of her charges, she hadn’t eaten any of the little biscuits that Fenella had brought with the elevenses tea.

  “I heard that,” Grizel said, pointing. “Your seat would be up there.”

  Alice turned to see the same table where Dugald and milaird had been chatting when she’d passed through the room earlier. The table was set upon a dais a foot or two above the others. Milady had taken her place, with a bairn at her breast. A little boy sat on milaird’s lap. “Oh.”

  Oh, my. Mother of mercy. Not only was she the governess and ought to be minding the children, but was part of the laird’s family, also. So her place was…up there. Above the salt, so to speak.

  She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but took a deep breath, straightened her back and found an empty chair at the laird’s table beside Dugald.

  He smiled at her. “How are ye getting on?”

  “F-fine.”

  “Do ye like me rooms?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “Though they’re a bit…stark.”

  “Och, aye. After we’ve eaten we’ll explore the storerooms and bring down a few bits and pieces for ye. And ye can unpack.”

  “Shouldn’t I be minding the children?” Alice glanced at the little boy, who stared at her with dark, unblinking eyes. “What’s your name, sweetling?”

  “I’m Carrick,” he said with indignation. “Not sweetling. I’m not a girl.”

  She gave a little gasp. “I beg your pardon. Should I call you Sir Carrick?”

  He puffed out his little chest. “That would do.”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling, and Kieran said, “Nay, laddie. The only true knight here is…himself.”

  “Himself?” she asked.

  “One of our auld relatives,” Dugald said easily. “He’s generally abed, and ‘tis unlikely ye’ll meet.”

  “Well, then, Master Carrick, would you help Dugald and me this afternoon?”

  “Who are you?” He’d asked the same question as Isobel, but with a charming, bright-eyed curiosity.

  “She’s yer Auntie Alice,” Dugald said easily. “My new wife.”

  “Oh! I have an auntie! A new auntie!” He gave a little wriggle and a squirm, bouncing in his father’s lap. ”Weel, I can help if Da and Mamma say so.”

  “Aye, we say so,” Kieran said.

  “Yes, it’s fine if you help Auntie Alice settle in.” Lydia glanced at her. “Did Fenella assign you someone?”

  “Yes, Grizel. But we decided to eat first.”

  “An excellent decision,” Dugald said. “I find meself that work goes better on a full belly.”

  Servants, including Grizel, brought trenchers of food—the same stew Fenella had been stirring—and set them before the adults. Baskets of bread were placed and mugs of ale brought, with Dugald’s and milaird’s refilled. Evidently the two men had spent the morning drinking and talking, but neither seemed the worse for it.

  Grizel plunked down a mug in front of Alice. Some slopped over the brim. Had that been a deliberate slight?

  Chapter Twelve

  Dugald cleared his throat. Lady Lydia, who’d been wiping the baby’s mouth, looked up. “Oh, dear. Grizel, could you please tidy that spill?”

  “Yes, milady.” Grizel whipped out a cloth from her apron pocket and cleaned the table before leaving.

  “Dugald, is there any reason Grizel would be an unsuitable maid for Alice?” A slight frown marred milady’s full lips.

  “Nay. She isnae one of me jilts, if that is your concern. She got along well with Elsbeth. She was at her—”

  “Yes, I remember,” Milady said swiftly.

  Alice glanced from face to face, noting the suddenly set expressions. “What?” she asked.

  “She attended me Elsbeth at her lying-in,” Dugald said. “When she—”

  “I know,” Alice said. “I’m sorry.” She leaned her thigh against Dugald’s beneath the table’s cover.

  “No need.” He leaned tow
ard her and whispered in her ear, “You make me very happy, mo dòchas.”

  Her face flamed like the fire in the big hearth. To cover her embarrassment, she said, “I don’t actually need a maid, you know. Um…is Grizel also a midwife?”

  “Nay,” Milaird said. “Mairen is our healer. Her mother, Auld Mhairi, died last year. She was training Grizel for awhile, but said she had not the gift.”

  And she was demoted to kitchen wench, Alice thought, and resolved to watch Grizel, whose gaze frequently strayed to the laird’s table and to Dugald in particular. Alice smiled grimly and the conversation moved on.

  “That was after Elsbeth…passed on.” Milady turned to Alice. “She was my maid, you know. She came with me from England.”

  “I am sorry for your loss,” Alice said. She gulped and continued, “From what I have heard, she was most admirable. I have rather large shoes to fill.” She glanced at Dugald.

  “Ye have naught to worry about, lassie,” he told her. “Now eat. We have a busy afternoon and eve.”

  “Tell me about the Dark Tower,” Alice said.

  “Never enter the auld keep.” Dugald’s reaction was swift. “Those are milaird’s orders.”

  “That they are,” Kier said. “’Tis very dangerous. It’s been abandoned for many years, and a fire broke out there also.”

  “What’s left of the floors and walls is quite unstable,” Lydia said. “There’s naught in there but ashes, dust and rats.”

  Hmm, thought Alice, and again glanced at Grizel.

  After the meal ended, Dugald told Grizel that she could return to her usual duties and that he and Master Carrick would help Alice. She scrutinized Grizel carefully during the conversation, seeing nothing that would confirm her suspicions that Grizel did not want her at Kilburn Castle. She told herself that she was imagining the other woman’s hostility.

  Grizel returned to the kitchen while Alice, Dugald and Carrick went to the Laird’s Tower and ascended two flights of stairs to the vast storerooms. Dugald held the toddler’s hand while she followed, ready to grab the child in case of a stumble.

  With Carrick present, she didn’t feel she could ask the questions she really wanted to put to Dugald, for she wanted to know how milaird had taken the news of Malcolm’s murder and if his family had been informed. But she didn’t want to blurt out anything that a young child shouldn’t hear. Death was a sensitive subject, one every family handled differently.

  At the top of the stairs was a hall and she reached for the nearest latch. Dugald stopped her. “Nay, lass, that room be occupied.”

  “Up here? By whom?”

  “Himself,” said Carrick’s little piping voice. “He’s usually asleep.”

  “Oh!” She jerked her hand away, having no wish to awaken the sleepy old fellow within. “Where, then?”

  Dugald showed her vast storerooms full of old clothes and furniture. He told her, “There’s also provender and arms stored in this tower, but no gunpowder, of course. ‘Twould be dangerous.”

  She found a standing wardrobe made of a light-colored wood, with several insets of darker timber carved with images of deer and flowers. “I like this armoire.”

  “Aye, ‘tis bonnie.” Dugald ran a broad hand over the dusty surface. “The stag is our clan emblem, and ye’ll see deer roundabout.”

  “Not just on the furniture. Shall we need help carrying this down?”

  He chuckled. “Nay.” Stooping, he eased a brawny shoulder against the wardrobe’s side, then tipped it so its weight rested on him. “Follow me.”

  She and Carrick scurried after him as he descended the stairs, the heft of the armoire weighing his steps. He didn’t appear to have any difficulty carrying the burden, and she wondered anew about the manner of man she’d wed.

  Once in his room—their room—he set the wardrobe beside the other. “Will this be storage enough for ye?”

  She looked around. The few pieces of luggage brought from Edinburgh sat next to the bed. She eyed them then the wardrobe, and said, “Yes, but I’ll need a dressing table, a mirror and a chair.”

  “Back upstairs we go!” Carrick gave a little skip.

  Dugald laughed, scooped the boy up by the waist and slung him over his shoulder. The child shrieked and giggled while Dugald took the steps two-by-two, with Alice following at a more decorous pace.

  By the time the afternoon had ended, Alice had formed the opinion that Carrick was the happiest child she’d ever met, without a trace of the temper his older siblings exhibited. He was also helpful, handing Alice clothing from her bags to be shaken out and hung, or given to servants for cleaning.

  But like his siblings, he said what he thought. He fondled Alice’s red cloak and said, “This is quite old, is it not?”

  “Yes, it was my mother’s.”

  “Where does your mamma live?”

  “She died quite a few years ago. When I was only a little older than your brother.”

  Carrick’s eyes widened. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said in exactly the tones she’d used earlier at their meal.

  Pressing her lips together, Alice repressed her giggle while Dugald turned away. When she’d composed herself, she said as gravely as she could, “Thank you.”

  A tap on the door heralded Lady Lydia, who said, “Nap time, young man. He hasn’t been a bother, has he?”

  “Not at all,” Alice replied. “He’s been most helpful. Will you read with me tomorrow, Master Carrick?”

  “Yes!” After giving her a hug, he skipped to his mother, turned and gave Alice a winning smile that echoed his uncle’s.

  They left, and Alice said to Dugald, “There goes a future heartbreaker.”

  “Yes, ladies already love his sweet smile and good temper. I’m nae in danger of losin’ ye, am I?”

  She laughed. “Maybe.” She went to him and nestled in his arms.

  “How are ye findin’ your first day?” He rubbed his cheek on the top of her head.

  “Tiring. Meeting so many new people and in such a big, new place… I’ll be fine tomorrow, and every day will be easier, I think, as I settle in. And you? You and milaird seemed to be having a serious talk earlier.” She caressed his back, running her fingers down the bumps of his spine.

  “Aye, that we did. And I also spoke with Ruth, Malcolm’s mam.”

  “Ohhh…that must have been hard.” She hugged him.

  “Aye, it was.” He pulled away with a sigh and cast a longing glance at the bed. “And now, though I wish we could dally a bit, you and I must also go to speak with her. She wishes to meet ye.”

  Alice drew a deep, frightened breath. “What if she blames me for her son’s death?”

  “She willnae. I told her how brave ye were. And after that, ‘twill be sundown, time for the funeral.”

  “Yes. Where is the graveyard? I didn’t notice one when we rode in, nor have I seen a church.”

  “We doonae have one. This is a remote holding, lassie, and no preacher will stay here. Do ye attend church? I havenae noticed ye praying.”

  “I actually, uh…no.” She felt it wiser not to announce that she didn’t believe in the Almighty, having never seen evidence of his existence. She knew from experience that such a statement could start arguments, so she kept her opinions to herself.

  “Fine, then, ye’ll realize no lack. Shall we go?”

  “I’m still in my habit. Shouldn’t I wash and change?”

  “Aye. I’ll call for water.”

  While he went to the door, she unbuttoned her jacket, took it off and untied the tapes that closed her skirt. When the water came, she took off her habit-shirt and washed, while Dugald lounged on their bed, booted feet dangling carefully over the edge.

  She changed into a blouse and dark skirt, choosing plain clothing in deference to their task. ‘Twouldn’t do to show up in the woman’s house to talk of her dead son wearing ruffles and lace.

  She and Carrick had unpacked her meager possessions, including her hairbrush and a few pins, with Carri
ck declaring that he liked her cameo. She now pinned it to her collar then brushed her hair, twisting it again into a knot at her nape.

  “I have something for ye, lass.” Dugald went to his wardrobe and took out a length of Kilburn tartan. He draped it over her shoulders before tying it in the front. “Ye’ll need it. And take your cloak. The sun is setting soon. Come.”

  He led her out of the castle, her arm tucked firmly through his. They crossed over the drawbridge and into the long, cold shadows cast by the castle over the crofters’ huts clustered at its base. She shivered. “The sun must already be going down.”

  “Aye. ‘Tis late in the year and the days be short. Here is Ruth’s home.”

  The cottage was closed up tight, the door shut and the curtains drawn. It looked forlorn—or was that her imagination speaking?

  Dugald sighed. “She didnae take it well. I told ye that Kilburns breed but rarely, and Ruth is pure Kilburn. Malcolm was her only son, and she lost her man to sickness a few years ago.”

  “She’s alone. We’ll have to make certain she’s knows she’s always welcome in the castle.”

  “She kens, but it willnae hurt for us to oft remind her.” He knocked on the door.

  After a few moments it was opened by a woman who sported the characteristic Kilburn looks as well as swollen, reddened eyes. “Dugald Kilburn.” She leaned against the doorframe, body sagging.

  “This be Mistress Alice.” Dugald stepped aside.

  Alice extended her hand. “I am so sorry for your loss.” She repressed a shiver, but she’d said similar words already once before this day and heard them said to her. She shrugged mentally, telling herself that death was a part of life as surely as was breathing and eating.

  The woman stared at Alice with a blank expression. A long pause ensued.

  Alice dropped her hand and rubbed it slowly on her skirt. “Malcolm died most bravely protecting me. I will remember and honor his sacrifice every day of my life.”