Amanda Scott (17 page)

“I’m thinking that I should tell ye I heard what the laird shouted at ye below, mistress, and whilst I dinna hold wi’ ladies
dirtying their hands without there be a need for it, I’d be fashed wi’ m’self did I no warn ye that ye’ll find little to do
here if ye dinna help wi’ the chores. The laird will be holding a baron court now he’s home, and we ha’ much to do to prepare
for it.”

Molly knew about such courts, because Mackinnon held them, too, but she had never had anything to do with their preparations.
“Are there no maidservants to attend to such things?” she asked.

“Faith, mistress, although we’ve a garrison of men here, besides yourself and your Doreen, ye’ll find few other women most
days.” She held up fingers as she added, “Altogether, there’s me, my husband, Malcolm, my uncle Ian Dubh, who’s away now but
who acts as constable of Eilean Donan when he’s here, and our wee bairn Morag, though she’s nobbut four months old. Then there’s
my cousin, Tam Matheson, who looks after the master’s clothing and such. We ha’ two daily women, too—wives o’ garrison men—who
come in to help me most days, and more o’ the same to help when the master holds a justice court. We’ll ha’ a few visitors
then, too. As to the rest here, there be only the master, our Patrick, and lads who look after Patrick, Ian Dubh, and my Malcolm.”

“Sir Patrick MacRae cannot be your son!”

“Nay,” Mauri said, laughing again. “He is my husband’s elder brother and the laird’s closest friend besides.” Sobering, she
added, “Patrick and Malcolm’s father, Sir Gilchrist MacRae, were ambushed wi’ the laird’s father on the way to Kinlochewe.
Likely, ye’ll meet Patrick’s mother and sister when the laird holds his court. They dwell at Ardintoul, a point that juts
into Loch Alsh just beyond Glas Eilean. The south shore o’ Loch Alsh be part o’ Kintail, too, ye ken.”

“I’ve heard men call the MacRaes ‘the Mackenzies’ shirt of mail,’ ” Molly said. “Is that true? Do they always protect the
Mackenzies?”

“Aye, it be ever the MacRaes’ duty, that. But we’d best hurry,” she added, moving to open the door on the right of the landing
as a thudding of booted feet echoed below on the stairway. “Those men be coming up straightaway wi’ your things, mistress,
and this be your bedchamber. We’ll pitch out a pallet in the wee chamber across the way for your Doreen to sleep on, so ye’ll
no ha’ to share this room.”

The room was not large and seemed smaller when the men arrived with Molly’s things. When they put their burdens down and retreated
down the stairs, Molly was dismayed to see how much she had brought. It had not seemed so much at Dunakin, or piled in the
boats, but here in this small chamber, she had trouble believing all her things would fit.

“I hope you brought enough to make yourself comfortable,” Kintail said sardonically from the doorway as his critical gaze
swept the crowded room.

“We’ll help her see to everything, laird,” Mauri told him confidently.

“Not now, you won’t,” he retorted. “Mackinnon’s men want their dinner, because they want to be off, since they’ll be sailing
against wind and tide, going back. You run on down now and see to them, and take Doreen with you. I want a private word with
Mistress Gordon.”

The stern note in his voice sent a shiver up Molly’s spine, and she was not surprised when Doreen and Mauri departed without
a word of protest. She would have liked to go with them.

When he shut the door behind them, she stiffened warily, remembering what he had done a short time earlier to his “closest
friend” with but small provocation.

He said, “I spoke sharply to you on the shore, mistress. I said naught that was not true, but I ought to have conducted myself
with better grace.”

Astonished, she said, “Then I need not act as a servant here?”

“You put more meaning into my words than I intended,” he said ruefully. “You are no servant, but neither are you a guest.
Eilean Donan is your home now until I find you a suitable husband, and since we are not overburdened with people to do the
chores, I’ll expect you to do your share.”

“My home,” she repeated, unable to suppress a sigh at the thought that this place was no more a real home than Dunakin had
been. And at least Dunakin’s master was predictable. That thought brought another on its heels. “Do you frequently knock people
who displease you into the water, sir?”

“Patrick was impertinent,” he replied.

Since he had called her the same, and more than once, the blunt statement was not reassuring. She would have liked to ask
just what it was that Sir Patrick had said, but as she tried to find the words, Kintail said with a smile that softened his
expression considerably, “Tidy yourself now and come downstairs to eat.”

Without another word, he left the room and shut the door behind him.

Molly stared at the door, uncertain about what had just happened, until a voice behind her said tartly, “Dinna stand like
a stock, lass. He is what he is, Mackenzie o’ Kintail, and there be nowt ye can do tae change the man.”

With a surge of delight, she turned and exclaimed, “Maggie, you’re here!”

“Aye, and where else would I be?” Maggie Malloch demanded.

“But— Oh, there you are,” Molly said when she located the little woman atop the tallest pile of stuff. “Faith, but you’re
smaller now, no bigger than my fist!”

“Aye, well, it takes less energy for me tae stay visible tae ye at this size,” Maggie explained, grimly surveying the cluttered
chamber from her perch. Gesturing with her pipe, she added tartly, “I tell ye, this isna the sort o’ place tae which I ha’
grown accustomed. Does the wretched man expect a fine lass like yourself tae live in this drab wee hole?”

“I expect I shall find it adequate once we’ve managed to put all these things away,” Molly said. “I don’t suppose you have
the power to make the room larger, do you?” she added wistfully.

“Nay,” the tiny woman replied. “That I canna do. However, I can help ye find places for your things when the time comes, and
I can help ye tidy yourself now. Ye’d best stir your stumps, too, else that Kintail be like tae return in a temper and carry
ye downstairs over his shoulder.”

The thought of Kintail picking her up and carrying her being more than she wanted to consider right then, Molly turned her
attention to her appearance.

Fin’s mood had improved, but the reality of his position had struck him hard, nearly as hard as he had struck Patrick. He
had reacted swiftly to Patrick’s teasing, all the more so, he was sure, because what his friend had suggested was no more
than what his own unruly imagination had suggested. He could not strike back at his thoughts, but Patrick was not so elusive.

On the other hand, Patrick would not repeat his mistake, but his imagination was not so trustworthy. If his mind continued
to fill itself with tantalizing images of Mistress Gordon’s body—usually unclothed—he would have to keep his distance from
her. He owed her protection, and if that included protection from his baser instincts, so be it.

M
ackinnon’s men-at-arms departed shortly after their meal, and for the next few days, Molly saw little of Kintail or his men,
for they were out and about passing word of the justice court he would hold in the great hall at the beginning of the week.
The castle buzzed with activity, as its inmates prepared for the event.

Bearing Mauri and Doreen company in the kitchen while they and a few women from Dornie village prepared supper the evening
before the great day, Molly said, “I look forward to seeing what such a court is like. Mackinnon held them at Dunakin, of
course, but he never allowed me to be present.”

“Nor will the laird allow it,” Mauri said gently. “ ’Tis men’s business, mostly, these courts, unless some poor woman be accused
o’ witchcraft, and Malcolm and Patrick ha’ both assured me there’ll be none o’ that tomorrow. The laird may ha’ to condemn
someone to die, though, and ye’d no want to watch them drown a man or hang one, would ye?”

“I would not,” Molly replied firmly, “but I doubt that he will hang anyone on the spot, and if I am going to make my home
here until he finds me a husband, I should know who is friend and who is felon, should I not?”

“Aye, sure,” Mauri agreed, “but ye’ll mostly bide wi’ us females, and we can tell ye everything there be to ken about other
folks.”

“But I want to see what happens tomorrow,” Molly insisted stubbornly.

“Then ye must ask the laird, but I doubt he’ll agree to it.”

Molly doubted it, too, but if she had learned anything about Kintail, it was that he was unpredictable. He had surprised her
the day of her arrival when he had come as close as any man ever had to apologizing to her. Until then, she had thought of
him only—or nearly so—as stern, humorless, and domineering.

He was handsome enough, to be sure, and there was that odd tendency for her body to react when he smiled or when she met his
gaze unexpectedly, but usually she thought of him as fearsomely large and irritatingly grim. His presence certainly filled
any room he entered and drew every eye. And although his behavior since her first day at Eilean Donan had given her no cause
to believe he had changed his ways, his apology then and the boyish smile that had followed provided a glimmer of hope that
she could persuade him to let her watch the court proceedings.

Her reaction to his smile and the twinkle that usually accompanied it had altered her first impression enough to make her
spend much of the little time she had spent in his company since, covertly watching him. She did not expect to see that smile
when she asked permission to view his court in progress, but it was not her nature to wish for something without making a
strong push to achieve it.

She certainly was no help to the women in the kitchen. Although she was accustomed to relaying Lady Mackinnon’s wishes and
commands to servants at Dunakin, and to doing a number of other things capably that most women did not do at all, she had
never had to attend to menial tasks like cooking and cleaning.

Savoring the delicious odors of roasting meats and bubbling stew that wafted around them, she watched with near envy as Mauri
deftly shoved a heavy pan into the oven in the fireplace wall, to keep warm, then whisked around Doreen—who was stirring a
pot on the hob with a long spoon—to turn the birds on the spit. All the while, Mauri issued a stream of orders to the helpers
scurrying around her.

When she turned away from the fire at last and briskly crossed the room to supervise two women at a table laden with platters,
baskets, and already-prepared side dishes, Molly said with a sigh, “I am useless to you.”

From her place at the fire, Doreen looked over her shoulder and brushed a wisp of hair back under her cap with her free hand
as she said, “Ye can stir this stew if ye like, mistress, but it be gey hot over here.”

“Nay, then,” Mauri said, beginning to count bread trenchers from a large basket as she put them into a smaller one. “She’ll
muss her gown an she does that.”

“I can count those trenchers for you,” Molly suggested.

“I’ve done them,” Mauri said, shouting for someone called Ian to come take the trenchers into the hall. She turned back with
a smile and said, “Truly, mistress, there be nae need for ye to dirty your hands here. Much of this be for tomorrow, but there
be little enough left to do that even Malcolm’s mam and sister, who arrived an hour ago, be taking their ease. Ye should do
the same.”

“But if I help you now, I’ll know better what I can do tomorrow when you will have so many more to feed and will need everyone’s
help.”

“Aye,” Mauri agreed. “We’ll ha’ as many as a hundred or more to dine. But, even then I’ll ha’ these women from the village
to help, and in truth, mistress,” she added gently, “we’ll all be so busy that ye’d be more hindrance than help. I’ll gladly
teach ye all I can in time, for I believe a woman should ken as much as her servants do about running a household, but I canna
do it this evening or tomorrow when I’ve me hands full just showing Doreen her duties. Mayhap the laird be in the hall now.
Ye should go and ask him if he’ll let ye attend his court.”

Feeling sadly inadequate for the first time in her memory, Molly went away without argument.