The Magic of Highland Dragons (8 page)

Faith stared at the two women for a moment.
Kitchen help? He’s made me into kitchen help?
She almost laughed out loud, but stopped herself in time. No doubt Berta and Fiona already thought her more than a little strange. So her
place
at the castle was to be that of a servant. What had she thought? That she would be brought here and made into a princess?
Well, that’s the way it always happened in all of my childhood fantasies
. Though her first reaction was that she should be offended (she did, after all, nearly have a PhD, and more learning than any of these people would ever have) really, what better way was there to learn about life in this castle than to work in it? And now that she had taken a moment to think about it, it was true that everyone in a castle needed to pitch in with the work to earn their keep. It wasn’t the same sort of life she was used to at all, where food came from supermarkets and you were always warm as long as you remembered to pay the heating bill. In the end, she was surprised at how easily her thinking adjusted to this new world. Besides, she
liked
to cook.

Her emotions had never flip-flopped from one such extreme to another in a single day before, or in a single minute for that matter, but now she gave Berta and Fiona a cheery smile. She was perhaps lucky to be someone with so many different sides to herself, because right now the scholar in her rushed to the forefront, and her mind became so engaged in the opportunity to learn that she was even able to forget about the dragon seal she had seen in the hall, for now. And the suspicion rising in her gut that it was Bren’s own ring she wore around her neck even now. His ring that had brought her here.

She drew in a fortifying breath. “Where do I start?”

Fiona exchanged a glance with Berta, who seemed to be in charge here in the kitchens. Berta appeared to be sizing her up, but in the end she nodded once, and Fiona led Faith to a long wooden table in the center of the room, stained and well-used, but clean for all that. At one end was a selection of short-handled kitchen knives.

“This is where we prepare all of the meat for cooking. Ye can dress these pheasants to begin with.” She pointed to a brace of dead birds hanging from a beam in the low ceiling, and Faith’s smile faltered. She had absolutely no idea how to dress a pheasant. She had never in her life even had the opportunity to do so. Or the inclination, really. She looked at the other women apologetically, biting her lower lip.

“Um, all right. I might need a little help though, to get started. You see, I’ve never actually done this before.” Berta and Fiona exchanged another look. Faith raised her chin and took a deep breath. “If you’ll just show me how to do it, I’m sure I can finish the rest on my own.” It was going to be a long day, for all of them.

Chapter 5
҈

“Laird, a word if I may.”

Bren had just opened the door to his private study, intending to finish a few things he had been putting off. The weather had been fair and he’d opted to be outside training or riding most of the time instead. But today it was pouring down rain, and he’d given his men a rare but well-earned day’s rest. He opened the door farther and waved his steward inside. Though a small man and lean of frame, not at all cut out to be a warrior, the steward kept the castle running smoothly at all times, and was in fact indispensible. Aye, he had a great respect for Colm, and would not want to be without him. He nodded his permission, and waited for the steward to speak.

“It’s the new lass, my laird. The one that came in just two days ago.”

“Faith. Aye, what of her?” Despite himself, he felt his heart beat a little faster just at the mention of her name. He had barely seen her, these past two days, with training and other duties taking up most of his time. But every time he had glimpsed her in passing, his heart had leapt into his throat and nearly taken his breath away. He would have to make some time to spend with her, and soon. He could feel the anticipation of finally touching her, like a living thing inside of him, hungry and wanting. It had been a very long time since he had felt such delicious excitement, and he reveled in it now.

“Well, it’s nothing really, just that a few of the other lasses have said to me how odd it is that she has to be taught every chore from the beginning. She does a fine job, after, aye, but she came here no’ even kenning how to make a proper oatcake, or even what the simplest tools are used for. Couldna even dress a pheasant or set the laundry to boil without being shown first, they said. Och, it’s all verra strange, and I just thought ye should ken it.” He paused, rubbing his chin in thought. “Though it may be she’s just a bit simple. I hadna thought of that, the poor lass.”

Bren pressed his lips into a straight line. The lass was anything but simple. The very personification of wicked temptation, aye. But not simple. He had seen the spark of intelligence in her eyes when she had first looked at him, as if she were sizing him up, trying to figure him out. But he was a man who was hard to decipher, even for himself, sometimes.

“Aye, Colm, ye were right to tell me. I dinna think she’s simple, perhaps just verra inexperienced, but I will look into the matter further when I have the time.” He put his hand on Colm’s shoulder and gently ushered him back to the door. “For now, keep an eye on the lass and tell me anything that seems odd, and what the others say of her. I think she is harmless enough, and she will learn, as ye’ve said.”

“Aye, my Lord. I thought as much, myself.” The steward bowed out of the room, hurrying back to his nearly endless tasks. Bren decided right then he would have to give him more gold next quarter, for he definitely deserved it. Colm worked very hard, took the brunt of the disputes and other unpleasantness of day to day life in the castle, and still kept track of even the smallest details. And the man had a wife and five children to care for, as well. Good and loyal help was not so easy to come by, and should be rewarded well.

Bren sank down into his chair, putting his elbows on the heavy oak table he used as a desk. The ancient oak tree used to make the table had fallen in a storm, long ago. His own grandfather had fashioned it into this sturdy table. Then his father had used it for many years after that, until the day it became his. He slid one hand over the smoothly worn wood. He would have no other. It was also where he came to think, as if the wisdom of his father and grandfather had somehow been absorbed into the wood, his now for the asking.

Dirc’s lass. Faith. She was a bit of a mystery. So she did not seem to know how to perform simple tasks that any lass would have learned at her mother’s knee. How could that be? Either she pretended ignorance, or she was not taught, and why would she not be taught unless she was never expected to do such things…
unless she was not a servant-born
. A little shock of recognition went through him. It was the truth, she was a lady-born. He should have seen it from the start. He thought about her pale ivory skin, her quiet beauty, the proud, straight way she held herself. The glimmer of defiance on her face that he had not quite recognized until now. And she had boldly met his eyes. A servant would have automatically dropped their gaze in deference. He slammed his palms down on the table.
Why didn’t I see it before? Ha! Because I was already busy imagining her in my bed.
“Oh, Dirc, ye are the verra Devil. What are ye playing at now?”

Who the hell was she, then? And stranger still, no coddled lady he had ever known would actually make the effort to
learn
servant’s tasks and then carry them out. At least not without a few major temper tantrums along the way… unless she had agreed to the scheme. Colm had said she was doing the work, once she knew how, but she wasn’t used to it, she wasn’t born to it. She was a beauty, made for a man’s hands, made for a man’s pleasure. She was meant to be protected and cosseted, meant to bear the sons of a powerful laird. What a shame it would be for her hands to grow rough and calloused, the fiery spirit that he felt in her to fade under the drudgery of hard physical labor. He couldn’t let it happen. What had he been thinking, assigning her to the kitchens? If he had been thinking straight, he would have assigned her to be his own chamber maid, where he could keep her close at hand. Where she would be obliged to help him bathe and dress, and undress… He stood up abruptly and left the study, walking across the hall and out of the keep with long, purposeful strides. He nearly ran into his brother Eian. Again.

“Whoa! Where are ye off to at such a pace? Is there a fire in the keep?”

Bren crossed his arms and gave him a narrow look that said he was not amused. “I’m going to see the sorcerer, if ye must ken, and ye always must. I suspect he’s holding back some rather important facts from my attention. I canna wait until I get my hands on that old meddling…”

Eian cut him off. “Ye willna find him, Bren, he’s gone.”

Bren stopped short.
Of course he’s gone, the sly old fox!
He sighed irritably. “What do ye mean he’s gone?”

“I mean he left Creagmor. This morning. Went to visit a sick cousin or some such. He willna be back for a week at least, or so he said.” He took in the menacing scowl forming on his brother’s face. “Jesu, Bren, what did he do? Did he try to slip ye one of his love potions again? Ye ken they dinna work anyway. I ken that for a fact, because I’ve given one to nearly every maid in the castle. None of them…”

Bren grabbed Eian’s arm and dragged him back into the study, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud.

“He left me with a damned
lady
under my protection, that’s what, for she is nay servant! Does the man think I am daft? Did he think I wouldna figure it out?”

Eian was looking at his brother as if he was wondering the same thing himself. “What?”

“Faith. His ward. Or the lass that he claims is his ward, at least. She’s no’ a common servant as he wanted me to believe. She’s higher born than that, and that old sorcerer is up to something even greater than I first suspected him of. How on earth did he procure a
lady
for his latest plot?” He growled in irritation. “One just doesna walk away with one, ye ken! They are generally well guarded. He kenned I would figure it out and ask questions, so he left! The coward! Now I have a lady in the castle that I’m sworn to protect, and I dinna even ken the first thing about her, or even if her family is on the way to lay siege to the castle! She doesna even ken how to be a kitchen maid, Eian! That’s how I figured it out. And she’s to give her oath tomorrow. What sort of strife might that cause, should her kin come looking to take her back?”

Eian only shrugged, well used to his brother’s occasional, sometimes even incredibly violent, outbursts, but this time he was really rambling. “Hell, Bren, ye only have to spend a little time with her, talk to her as if ye dinna ken anything is wrong. Even if she’s sworn to secrecy, she’s bound to slip up now and again. Ye should be able figure it out by what she says, or doesna say. And spending time with such a bonny lass is surely nay hardship.” He paused, and his mouth widened into a grin. “Or do ye want me to do it? I’m rather good with the lasses, and the ladies too.” He made a crude gesture, and Bren cuffed his brother in the ear, though not as hard as he would have liked to. Somehow, such crudity did not seem to belong anywhere near Faith.

“Ye stay away from her Eian, on my orders. I ken what trouble ye can stir up. It’s only because ye are my little brother that ye are no’ punished more often for all yer indiscretions. I swore to Dirc I’d keep her safe, and even though I’d rather dunk him headfirst into the bog right now, I always keep my vows.” He paused to push his hands through his hair in a gesture of impatience. “Aye, I’ll talk to her myself; it’s a good idea, Eian.” He let out a long breath. “I just dinna need a new problem taking up my time when Mored is so quickly gaining strength and men again. There have been so many more attacks recently…”

Eian snorted, not in the least diverted. “There’s nay problem that I can see. Ye like the lass. Ye want her in yer bed. Her kin are no’ here, and it is yer duty to provide protection.”

Bren raised an eyebrow, his brother was stating the obvious. “I would like to bed her, aye, and I have every intention of doing so, eventually”, he said matter of factly. But I have much greater responsibilities here Eian, as do ye”, he reminded. “Have ye done as I asked?”

“I checked the outer wards this morning, aye. All is in order. We’ll need to be extra vigilant, though, with Beltane only days away.”

Bren sat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and allowing himself to relax for just a moment. “Mmm, Beltane, my favorite time of year.” It was, too. The world was new again, a time of hope, of rebirth, of celebration. And of lush sensuality, when sex became even more an act of worship of the earth and its fertility. He loved the joys of the flesh; loved all things carnal. The anticipation, the scents and the pure intoxication of it. And of course the powerful pleasure of release. Come to think of it, it had been quite a while since he had had any release at all. That was probably part of his problem. Maybe even most of it. Hopefully a problem that would soon be remedied. He smiled.

There was definitely something about Beltane time that lifted the spirit and restored the soul, but there was really only one woman he truly wanted to share it with this season.