by Ceri Bladen
Kameron watched what was going on within the hall with interest. He couldn’t blame his kin, for most of them had suffered at the hands of a MacAlpin, and even though the young woman was dressed in MacMahon fabric—albeit servant’s clothes—she was still a MacAlpin. He inspected her. He’d ask Morag why she was dressed in servant’s clothes when he’d specifically told them to use his sister’s clothing. He tore his gaze away, back towards his food.
“Have ye decided what ye are going tae dae with her yet?” asked Angus.
“Nae,” he said, trying not to look in her direction again. There were enough eyes on both him and her, watching for his reaction to her. He picked up bread to dip in his pottage and put it in his mouth—although he’d suddenly lost his appetite. The slip of a lassie was going to cause him trouble—one way or another.
A scream and clattering of a utensil made Kameron turn away from the conversation he was having with Fergus and Dav, his tacksman. They’d been discussing collecting rent from the tenant farmers and cottars. He saw the man, who had been sitting next to Aileana, jump up, obviously scolded by the liquid covering his kilt. Kameron’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Wynda stood behind with a bowl and a ladle in her hands. He knew her well enough to know she was up to something.
Mortified, the spillage had been made to look her fault, Aileana was unaware the whole room had gone quiet and looked their way. “I’m so sorry.” She leaned forward with a cloth to help mop up the man, until he jumped back, and she realised what she was doing. She pulled her hand back and grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
Once the old man had calmed and got over the surprise, his face softened. “It’s nae a problem, lassie, although I must confess tae needing tae change.” He gave a light touch to his bonnet once he had put it on. “Good evening tae ye, lassie.”
“Feasgar math tae ye, too,” she said, still unsure what had happened. When she finally noticed the stares, her face, neck and ears felt impossibly hot. She watched his back as he walked away, highly aware of the silence around her, but trying to ignore it. She wanted to flee but forced herself back on the bench and picked up her knife. She deliberately kept her eyes away from where the laird and his men sat, she didn’t want to know if he’d witnessed her humiliation.
Once the old man left and Aileana sat, Kameron returned to his conversation. “Angus, how did the butchering go in the village, this morning?”
“Fine. Some tenants are going tae give their marts for payment, although many have lost their cattle, goats and sheep tae starvation.”
“Aye, 1680 has been a frugal year for crops,” Kameron agreed, having seen the famine in the villages on his travels. He looked at his tacksman, who was responsible for the tenants, crofters and cottars on his land. “Mayhap we might have a reduction in rent this year?”
Dav smarted, seeing his personal profit reducing. “But more stock is being butchered because they cannae maintain the animals over the winter. They have plenty tae give.”
Kameron gave him a stern look. “They might seem as though they have more tae give, but they have lost many animals tae the famine. Dinnae forget, many tenants themselves have a hard time feeding their families.” He could see that Dav didn’t care, having no immediate family of his own. It was pointless trying to change him, Kameron had tried in the past and failed, so he tried another tact. “And, besides, if they are unable tae pay or restock, we won’t be able tae collect from them, next year.” He saw Dav’s eyes light up. His lips pressed tightly together. If Dav wasn’t such a good tacksman—albeit one who needed to be towed back in line now and again—he would change him, regardless of their blood connection.
Angus interrupted his thoughts. “Some villagers have already clubbed together and salted their meat for the winter.” He shook his head and his brow wrinkled. “Some have resorted tae sea birds this year and even pigs.”
“‘Poor man’s beef’.” Donald guffed his distaste. “I ne’er saw any swine among the mountains, and there is good reason for it! These folks have barely any offal tae feed themselves, let alone a pig. One single sow can devour all the provisions of a family.”
Kameron’s jaw tightened, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He hated suffering of any kind. To see his villagers and kin suffer, didn’t sit well with him. He did what he could, but with the famine and the likes of the MacAlpin and other neighbouring clans taking their stock too, it would be a harsh year all around.
“The cattle are so thin, they cannae even be bled for them tae make their black puddings,” Fergus said. “The oatmeal and onions that they boil the blood with is scarce, tae.”
“I heard, last year, one tenant’s sheep had frozen during the night but so desperate he was, he still made use of their carcasses,” said Donald, taking a gulp of ale.
“The famine is so bad in parts that I’ve heard they're even eating goats!” Fergus said.
“We will discuss this more, tomorrow, in my study when I have the ledgers,” said Kameron thoughtfully, he knew they’d consumed too much ale and whisky to have a frank conversation. “Mayhap, I can open up the hunting, so they can kill the red and roe deer?”
“Tae eat like the gentry? Yer spoiling them, Laird,” said Fergus.
Kameron waved his hand. “Whatever, I dinnae want tae see my kin die when I’m in charge.”
“Aye, but it might not be good tae give them free rein hunting, they are already hunting the blue and mountain hares, ptarmigan and partridge tae. I’ve even caught them in the river catching the trout and salmon,” said Fergus.
Kameron looked at Dav, who regulated the tenants—he would have more of an idea of the scope of the famine outside Calder Castle. “Like I said, we’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
Everyone shrugged and went back to eating—they were the lucky ones. All except Kameron, who had lost his appetite.
Later, after a couple of ales, Kameron’s gaze narrowed when he noticed Aileana stand and make her way out of the hall. He wanted to see where she was going. It wouldn’t be a good idea for a MacAlpin to have free access to the castle. He placed his jug down. “Men, I’m going tae check on the guards attending the walls, just in case the MacAlpins see fit tae find their missing lassie.” He stood, placing a bonnet on his head.
“I’ll come with ye,” said Angus. “I’ll finish this fine wine, first.”
Kameron nodded. As Angus said the words, he realised he wanted to find her on his own. “No rush. I’ll step outside the hall tae get cooler air tae clear my heid. I think I’ve drunk tae much ale.” The men laughed—no one could drink too much ale. “Meet me in the gate house when ye are ready. I’ll wait for ye.”
“Aye, Laird.”
Slowing her steps as she walked along the dark corridor, Aileana whipped her head around. She sensed someone behind her but saw no one in the darkness. She gave a sigh of relief. Her mind was obviously playing tricks on her, but that wasn’t surprising, it had been a long night and day. She was tired. Returning her attention to the candle she held, she continued to walk away from the busy hall. The candle gave her little light, and she didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be alone and not have to deal with any more hostility from a MacMahon. As most people were still in the hall, either eating, tidying away or enjoying the warmth of the large fire, she was alone. No one seemed to notice her leave, but she doubted they cared anyway. She had been told to wait for Morag, but she’d had her fill of food, and decided to find her own quiet place to sleep. It wouldn’t take her long to find a quiet corner to rest her head. Anything had to be better than the gaol bed she’d spent last night on.
“Why did ye leave so quick, lassie?”
Aileana jumped and turned, her hands flying to her mouth. Scant light from the rushlight he held highlighted the Laird’s dark features. She relaxed only marginally. She was in a dangerous position—alone with a man, and although he was the laird, she did not know his character. “I… um…” she tried to think of any excuse. “I wanted…” She stopped
talking as he stepped nearer. The intensity of his gaze was piercing, and she lost her chain of thought.
“Why are ye in servant’s clothing when I asked Morag tae give ye my sister’s? I might need to reprimand my housekeeper for not following my orders.”
Aileana bristled. That was all she needed, the only one who was friendly to be scolded on her account. She pulled her shoulders back and put her hands on her hips—her previous concerns being replaced by her need to protect. “It wasn’t she who didnae follow yer orders. ’twas me.”
Amusement danced in his eyes before it died, and his eyes narrowed. “It would be in ye best interest to follow my orders, lassie.” His gaze flicked down to her chest, straining in the dress, before returning to her face. His lips twitched with the briefest of grins. “All my commands.” Kameron stepped forward until his boots touched the hem of her tunic. From this distance, he could smell the oils she had just bathed in. His interest stirred, and that, he couldn’t deny.
She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but there was a look in his eyes to indicate he wasn’t angry with her but playing. She didn’t know what to do.
“What is ye name, lassie?”
He was so near, Aileana had to look up at him. Her mouth dried. Her brothers were tall, but he was the tallest man she’d ever come across. She stepped back, uncomfortable with his size and her back hit the stone wall behind her. She had nowhere to go. “What dae ye want with me?” she asked, agitation stirred her voice, to hide her nervousness.
Kameron shrugged his large shoulders. “I must confess I’m not sure, lassie.” He regarded her with lazy eyes. “But I will confess, I like the feeling of being so close tae ye.” He reached out and pushed a stray hair behind her ear.
She felt a wild fluttering in her stomach.
“Laird, laird? Are ye there?” Angus’s voice could be heard echoing down the corridor.
A muscle twitched in Kameron’s jaw before he dropped his hand and took a large step back.
Aileana breathed again, although not at a normal rate.
“Laird,” said Angus before stopping and glancing at Aileana. His brows puckered when he noticed the flush on her cheeks. “I… um... couldn’t find ye by the door and were wondering where ye had gone in such a hurry…” He said before making a point of looking at Aileana. Mayhap his Laird had an interest in the MacAlpin servant? He couldn’t blame him. She was a bonny one, but he still didn’t like her for she was from the Devil’s clan. “But, ye are safe.” He muttered under his breath, “For now.”
“Aye, I am, Angus. I was just wondering where our—” Kameron paused and looked at Aileana, taking in, but ignoring, her flushed cheeks, “—guest was off tae.”
“Ah,” nodded Angus.
“I’ll meet with ye at the wall, later. I’ll escort her back tae the hall. Make sure she doesnae stray. Kameron turned to address Aileana. “Ye will come back with me and wait for Morag.”
Again, she didn’t have a choice. “Aye.”
“Aye, what?” Angus bristled, stepping towards her. “He’s the Laird here. Show deference.”
The silence stretched as she first glared at Angus then turned towards Kameron, making a big thing of bowing. “Aye, Laird,” she repeated, stretching out the last word.
“That’s better. Dinnae ye be forgetting who the Laird is here,” said Angus.
When she straightened back up, she lifted her chin a fraction higher—something Kameron did not miss. He challenged her with a knowing lift of his dark eyebrow. He had not missed her bold spirit, unlike his friend. As Angus seemed pacified with her words, he would deal with her boldness later—somewhere where there was no one else to show their disapproval—like his bedchamber. His blood heated, and he decided he looked forward to this new, unexpected challenge. “Follow.” He turned and walked back to the hall, unaware that Wynda was watching the activity from a darkened corner.
When Kameron walked through the hall, Aileana followed trying not to scowl at his broad back. He turned when he reached the dais. “Ye will sit next tae me, until Morag comes for ye. Then she will nae let you wander the corridors on yer own.” His gaze narrowed on her. “’cause I dinnae know what ye’ll be getting up tae.”
Controlling the reply she wanted to expel, Aileana grabbed her skirts and stepped onto the dais. Most of the seats were taken, and as she was silently cursing him, she waited to be told were to sit, as he seemed to want to tell her what she could and couldn’t do!
“Fergus, move for the lady.”
Fergus growled, but did what he was told. From the look Fergus gave her, he didn’t think of her as a lady.
“Sit there, where I can see ye, lassie. And this time, keep yer food on yer plate.”
Aileana opened her mouth to say something and thought better of it when she saw the smirk on his lips. He’d seen what had happened, earlier. Screwing her face up, she plonked herself down instead and glanced at what was left of the fare in front of her. It was marginally better than what was on the other tables, but still not as different in quality as it was in Ackergill Tower. Her brothers made sure they were finely fed—unlike the rest of the room. Pushing thoughts of her brothers out of her mind, she reached for a piece of fish, caught from a nearby loch, no doubt. There was no meat on offer today as it was Wednesday, and the church forbade the eating of meat on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. As she ate, she chose not to look in the direction of Kameron, although she could feel when he looked at her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a smile nor a scowl to know how she felt about him. Her fluttery insides were another story.
Night-time…
Kameron turned away from his bed when there was a quick knock on his bedchamber door. He had been happy in his thoughts of the red-head and at this late time, wasn’t happy to be disturbed. “Wait.” He was partially dressed but wasn’t concerned—there were men on guard—but out of instinct he moved within reaching distance of his dirk, lying on the bedside table. “Enter.” His shoulders tensed, and he tried not to sigh when Wynda entered. “What are ye doing here? I haven’t called for ye.”
Wynda stepped in and shut the door behind her. “I know, but…” she looked around, thinking of something to say, but couldn’t come up with an excuse that didn’t make her seem possessive. She had seen him in the corridor with that MacAlpin woman and just wanted to remind him of her charms. “I wanted tae see ye.” She stepped forward, pushing her chest out and hid her smile when his gaze caught her action. When she neared, she reached out to play with the opening of his tunic, running her finger up and down his bare chest, looking him straight in the eyes.
Kameron grabbed her hands to still them. “I’ve had a long day, Wynda. I need rest.” He watched her eyebrows raise before a smile flickered on her lips. He waited to see what she would say because she’d evidently not understood he wanted to be alone.
“Och, I can help ye get tae sleep much faster.” Her hand moved down his body and her head tilted back as she bit her bottom lip.
Kameron glanced at her before he sighed heavily and stepped away. “That ye might, lassie, but I dae need to sleep. I’ve another long day of slaughtering, tomorrow.”
She scowled, and her previous relaxed posture became rigid. “Ye have men tae dae that work, Kameron.”
“The tenants need help,” he carefully controlled his tone, not wanting the atmosphere to turn nasty, “and I’m not afraid of hard physical work, regardless of my station in life, Wynda.”
“I ken, Kameron,” she said before her frown disappeared and a smile replace it. Her eyes lit up.
Wynda was up to something, but instead of her mood interesting him, he felt agitated. “Ye need tae leave, Wynda.”
“Just a while longer,” she said before reaching out for him once again—this time, lower.
His jaw tensed, and he caught her hand in his larger one. “Nae.” Normally, this banter put him in the mood, but it didn’t tonight, and it wasn’t just because he was bone-tired. That red-haired lassie had
been on his mind most of the day—more so after following her in the corridor—and she stirred his interest. It was her he thought about while undressing for bed, not Wynda. “Look. While I have enjoyed our time together, it’s time tae cool things—” he saw the hurt flick on her face, “—it’s fer the best.”
“Ye dinnae want me tae stay?”
“Nae. I’ve said as much. I will call ye tae come tae my chamber, not the other way around.” He saw her face fall. “That’s the way it’s always been, Wynda.”
She scowled before fluttering her eyelashes, reaching around his neck to pull him closer. “One kiss before I go.”
He sighed, would she ever get the message?
Wynda strode along the corridor in a foul mood, disappointed that all she received from the laird was a quick peck, before he ushered her out. What is wrong with him? He’d never turned her away before. Her hands fisted. It had changed when that MacAlpin woman had arrived at Calder Castle. He was taking a keen interest in her—more than Wynda was happy with. Mayhap the laird has eyes for her? She is attractive, not as pretty as me, but still good on the eyes. She rounded the corner and stopped. Nae, that woman is a MacAlpin, and the Laird hated them as much as the servants did.
Wynda gathered her skirts higher and climbed the stairs. She hated them, too—they had killed her father in battle. She remembered swearing when he died that she’d get back at them. She would—eventually. It was a shame the hot pottage had landed on poor old Calum’s lap instead of on that red-headed woman’s, as she’d intended. But never mind, it had made the cow look a fool, showing her up in front of the MacMahons. Wynda smiled. This might be fun—and she’d only just started.
Next day…
Aileana placed her hand on her neck and rotated it. She had little rest even though Kameron had insisted Morag find her a safe place to sleep. The hard bench in the kitchen was still better than the gaol, but it was the snores and noises of the people around her—she was used to being alone in her bedchamber in Ackergill Tower.
