Highland Courage (Highland Brides) (15 page)

In truth, over the next few weeks she believed Oren himself was developing a grudging respect for her abilities. Although pleased she seemed to be making some small headway with him, the lack of open hostility from the rest of the clan was a far cry from warmth or kinship. She still felt very much alone. She rarely had the opportunity to speak to Flan during the day and, while he did take his meals at the laird’s table again, he seemed preoccupied and was unusually quiet. He generally disappeared soon after meals were over.

It embarrassed her to admit this, even to herself, but she wanted her mother.
Mama would know what to do
.
She always knows what is happening among the MacKenzies. But how?
Mairead tried to remember the things her mother did. Images of her mother as she went through the day came to her. It finally dawned on her. Her mother talked to everyone, from the elderly to the very young, about the smallest details of their lives.
But I’m not good at talking to people
. She thought more about how her mother did this. It wasn’t that she just chatted with people. In fact, her mother didn’t actually do most of the talking. She gave people the opportunity to talk to her. She asked general questions, truly listened to the answers, and made an effort to remember details. She remembered to follow up on everything from a child’s skinned knee to a new mother’s anxiety.

I have been worried about what to say, but I don’t really need to talk much at all. I just need to listen
. With her mother as an example, Mairead made the effort to speak with everyone she met, even if just to ask after their health. Initially she received short, curt answers but she persisted and soon many members of her new clan began to open up and chat. Each new victory bolstered her self-confidence, and she became more and more comfortable talking to members of the clan whom she hadn’t met yet.

One afternoon she was on her way to the kitchen to get a basket of food to take to Eilis, who had been feeling poorly. When she entered the kitchen, a young woman, perhaps a few years younger than herself, sat at the table drinking a herbal tisane with Ide. The lass jumped up from her seat when Mairead entered. She looked embarrassed. “I’ll be going, Ide. Thank ye for the tisane. Good afternoon, my lady.” The flustered lass started toward the door.

Mairead stopped her. “Oh, ye needn’t go on my account. I’ll only be a minute. By the way, I don’t believe I have met ye.”

“I’m called Caitlin, my lady, and I really must be getting back.”

“Are ye Oren’s daughter, Caitlin?”

“Aye, my lady.”

“Well, if ye are going home, I am on my way to visit Eilis. I would enjoy company on the walk. Would ye wait for me a moment while Ide fixes a basket for her?”

Caitlin seemed pleased but still a bit flustered. “Certainly, my lady.”

When Mairead had the basket of victuals over her arm, they walked toward the village.

“I’m surprised we haven’t met before now,” said Mairead.

“I’m not at the keep often. My mother prefers for me to stay at home. She is a weaver and she is
trying
to teach me the craft.” Caitlin blushed, looking almost ashamed. Caitlin’s embarrassment confused Mairead. The emphasis Caitlin but on the word “trying” also puzzled her. “Trying? Is it not going well?”

“Truthfully, my lady, nay. My mother is an excellent weaver. Her cloth is among the finest made here.”

“Ye sound proud of her.”

“I am, but she has tried to teach me for years. It’s just that I can’t quite get the hang of it and she is not extremely patient.”

“Do ye like weaving, Caitlin?”

Caitlin stopped walking and looked at Mairead with an almost stunned expression. “No one has ever asked me if I liked weaving before.”

“Well, do ye?

“Nay, my lady. Maybe if I was better at it I would, but I hate it. I think if I have to spend the rest of my life weaving I will go mad.”

Caitlin’s honesty surprised Mairead. She supposed it would be very hard to be trained to do something your whole life that ye never wanted to do.
Like marrying a stranger and running his household?
She smiled to herself. “Is there something ye like to do at which ye have more skill?”

“Not really, I suppose.” The wistful tone in her voice told Mairead that the opposite was more likely true.

“Now why do I think there really
is
something else ye would like to do.”

Caitlin smiled bashfully. “Well, I like to cook but I’m just learning how. My Da loves to eat, and I like to make things for him.”

“Is that why ye were visiting Ide?”

“Aye that, and well, sometimes it is easier to talk to her than to my mother.”

“Hmm. I see.” Mairead considered this for a minute. “Would ye like to work in the kitchens and learn more? Perhaps it can be arranged?”

“Oh, my lady, I would love to learn from Ide, but my mother thinks…well, it’s not important.”

“Aye, it is important. What does your mother think?”

Caitlin looked even more embarrassed. She looked away, not meeting Mairead’s eyes. “She thinks kitchen work is beneath me, what with her being a fine weaver and Da being the steward and all.”

“Oh, I understand.” Mairead remembered what Cael had said about her mother being a problem. “But ye would want to work in the kitchens if ye had the opportunity?”

“Aye, I would, but I don’t want to upset my parents.”

“I’m sure ye don’t and I wouldn’t want to, either. But perhaps there is a way this can be arranged. I can’t make any promises, but leave it with me for a bit.”

“Oh, my lady, do ye really think it is possible?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But it absolutely isn’t possible if we don’t at least try.”

~ * ~

The next morning, when Mairead met with Ide, she brought up the subject of Caitlin’s desire to learn to cook.

“Caitlin is a fine lass, my lady. Aye, I would love to have her working here.”

Meriel was in one corner scrubbing burnt porridge from the bottom of a large pot, and she gave a derisive snort. “Clearly, my lady, ye can see Meriel doesn’t understand why anyone would want to work here, but I suspect Caitlin wouldn’t have let the porridge burn in the first place. As I was saying, I would love to have her here, but I doubt her parents would allow it.”

“But she is so unhappy working with the weavers and by her own admission, she isn’t very good at it. Surely her parents can see that?” Another snort came from Meriel.

“Meriel, is there something ye would like to say?” asked Mairead.

Meriel shrugged and huffed. “Ye don’t want to hear what
I
have to say.”

“Keep a civil tongue in your head, lass, or ye will lose this job too,” warned Ide.

Mairead gently touched Ide’s arm, shook her head slightly. “Meriel, I
do
want to hear what ye have to say.”

“Do ye? Well, then, it is beyond me why anyone would want to work in the kitchens.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I hate it, but my father makes me stay here. Why should Caitlin be different?”

“And ye loved being a chambermaid, lass?” asked Ide sarcastically.

“Nay, but it was better than this. Why would someone who has the opportunity to learn a skill like weaving throw it away to work in the kitchens?”

Mairead considered Meriel’s words for a moment. “Would ye like to learn to weave?”

“Why do ye care? Ye are the reason I am here anyway.” Meriel’s eyes filled with tears.

“Meriel, ye are here because of your own actions,” scolded Ide.

Mairead quietly but firmly repeated her question. “I asked if ye would like to learn to be a weaver.”

“Aye. I would, but I will never get the chance. My mother was a weaver and apparently a very good one, too. I remember watching her and thinking it was magic the way she turned thread into beautiful fabric. But she died when I was a little girl, and there is no one to teach me the skill. Caitlin should count her blessings, but instead she wants this.” Meriel motioned to the pots to be washed.

“If there was someone who was willing to train ye, would ye put your heart into it?”

Meriel’s chin quivered; the tears spilled down her cheek, and she dashed them away with the back of one hand. “Aye. But that isn’t likely, is it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But I’m willing to consider it. If it is what ye truly want to do and ye are willing to put in the effort to learn, maybe we can find a way.”

“Ye would do that for me? After what I did?”

“What did ye do, Meriel?”

Meriel had the good grace to look embarrassed. Still wiping tears from her cheeks, Meriel confessed. “I entered the laird’s chamber without knocking. I did it on purpose.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to embarrass ye, I guess. Until ye came, I thought—I thought—I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“It does matter. Please tell me.”

“I thought maybe I had a chance to wed the laird. I guess I was jealous, but in truth, I’m not the only one who was disappointed.”

Ide snorted, “Every one of ye was daft to think there was any chance of that happening. Besides, ye surely must know Laird Matheson and Laird MacKenzie struck this deal. Lady Mairead likely had no say in the matter at all. Why would ye take your disappointment out on her?”

“I don’t know. What I did was thoughtless and stupid. I am sorry, my lady. Truly I am.”

“Well then, I accept your apology and we will put it behind us. As I said, I am not certain of anything, but I will see if there is a way for ye to train as a weaver.”

“Thank ye, my lady.”

“Ye are welcome. Well, if I am going to visit Eilis, I should be going.”

“I’ll walk to the keep with ye. Meriel, keep working on those pots.”

Mairead suspected Ide had something she wanted to say out of Meriel’s hearing. When they were out of the kitchen, as Mairead expected, Ide stopped for a moment.

“That was a real kindness, my lady, and not one I’m sure she deserves. Nevertheless, I will be glad to see the back of her. She hates the kitchen more than a cat hates water.”

“I would much rather have both of ye happy, but do ye know of anyone I could ask about training her as a weaver?” After all Mairead had learned, clearly it was too much to hope Oren’s wife would.

“Aye, my lady, Pol’s wife, Mae, is a weaver. She and Meriel’s mother were friends, and she might consider taking her on. Your bigger problem will be convincing Oren to let Caitlin work in the kitchens.”

Mairead smiled. “Ide, my mother always said the best way to get a man to do what ye want him to do is let him think it was his idea in the first place. I plan to discuss this with the laird, but as long as he sees the merit in the plan, I will just have to find a way to make Oren think of it himself.”

Ide chuckled. “And my mother always said men were simple. A woman only needs to know two things to keep a man happy. The first is how to fill his belly with a good meal. Clearly ye’ve learned this one yourself because ye make sure the laird’s favorites are served regularly. Perhaps if we fill Oren’s scrawny frame with his favorite dinner before ye speak with him, he’ll find it easier to think of this plan himself.”

Mairead gave her a sly grin. “Ye are probably right in that. We will plan Oren’s favorites for dinner tomorrow to soften him up a bit.” Before entering the keep, Mairead asked coyly, “Ide, what was the other thing your mother said a woman needs to know to keep a man happy?”

“My lady, ye are far too bold a lass to have ever been called a mouse, and by the satisfied look the laird wears now, I would say ye have already learned the other one, too.”

~ * ~

As they lay in each other’s arms that evening, savoring the afterglow of their lovemaking, Mairead rose on one elbow to look at her husband. The sated expression on his face caused her to chuckle.

“What do ye find so amusing, love?”

“I was just thinking of something Ide told me she learned from her mother.”

“And what was that?”

“The two skills required to keep a man happy.”

Tadhg laughed and rolled her onto her back, capturing her lips in a kiss before saying, “Ye manage quite well to keep me happy, sweetling.”

“I only plan the meals, Ide cooks them.”

“That’s not the skill I meant, and ye know it.”

Mairead laughed. “Well, Ide did say cooking was only one of them, but she was a bit vague when it came to the other one.”

“I should hope so.” He laughed. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer to this, but how did the subject of pleasing men come up with Ide?”

“Well, it is a bit of a long story.”

“I always like a good bedtime story.”

“Hmm. Well, once upon a time there was a wee lass whose mother was a talented weaver. The lass loved to watch her mother at the loom, making beautiful cloth. She thought there was something magical about it, and she longed to learn how herself someday.”

“That sounds like Oren’s Caitlin.”

“Ah, ye would think so, but alas, it isn’t.”

“Who is it, then?”

“Don’t interrupt, or ye will never find out.” She laughed at his mock pout and continued her story. “So the lass is grown now and wants to learn how to weave.”

“I can’t see how learning to weave would be a problem for her. Ye said her mother is a weaver.”

“Are ye going to let me tell this story or not?”

“My apologies, please continue.”

“As it happens, in the same village we have a lass who wants to learn how to make delicious food, the kind which keeps a man happy.” She flashed him a saucy grin.

“A very noble aim.”

“I’m glad ye think so, because here is the problem. Sadly, the lass who wants to learn how to weave lost her mother when she was very young so she has no one to teach her, and she must work in the kitchens. As fate would have it, the lass who wants to learn to cook has no one to teach her, either.”

“She is motherless as well?”

“Nay, her mother is a terrible cook, but an excellent weaver, who thinks cooking is beneath her daughter.”