A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (6 page)

In retrospect, it went over no better with him. He had been
a dunderheaded fool. If he didn't have a care, he might even
jeopardize the success of their plan to free Athe. And all because
of a spur-of-the-moment impulse to kiss that fiery-tempered
little wench!

Well, Kenneth didn't need to know any of this, Dar decided as he reached the bottom of the stairs and took a seat on the
lowest step. He would simply wait here a bit until supper was
served in the Great Hall. Then he would pay a visit to the
kitchen and put together a meal of sorts from the leavings.
His friend would be none the wiser when he walked in with a
tray full of food.

A chill breeze wafted up from the corridor intersecting the one
he now sat in. Caitlin had mentioned providing them with extra
blankets this eve. After what he had done, Dar had an inkling
she would as soon let them freeze to death down here as starve. It
might be a more difficult undertaking, though, to filch blankets
than it would be food.

Not that it mattered much to Dar. He had endured far more
frigid temperatures with only the protection of his plaid. But Kenneth, being a bard, wasn't quite the outdoorsman that he was.

In the bargain, there was his foot to consider. It was vital Kenneth recuperate posthaste. For that to happen, though, Dar had
to ensure everything necessary was provided.

With a sigh of resignation, he stood, turned, and headed back
up the stairs. There was nothing to be done for it but find Caitlin
and beg her pardon. But not because he truly regretted kissing
her. In his heart of hearts, Dar would never regret that.

Sometimes, however, one must humble oneself for the sake of
others. And it was, after all, only fair recompense for being such
a dunderheaded fool.

"Might I help ye find what ye're seeking?"

Dar jerked to a halt. He had just exited the kitchen and was
about to enter the Great Hall when a woman's voice behind him
caught him up short. He turned.

A pretty, russet-haired woman with silver eyes who looked
but a few years older than Caitlin stood there. In her arms was a chubby little boy. From her bearing and simple but elegant green
dress, Dar knew this must be Anne Campbell.

He managed an awkward half bow, acutely aware of how long it
had been since he had been party to such courtly manners. "Aye,
lady," he said as he straightened, feeling like some bumbling oaf
who had wandered where he wasn't welcome. "I'm looking for
the healer, Caitlin. Would ye know where I might find her?"

"She has gone to prepare herself for supper. Might I be of some
assistance in the meantime?"

Dar shook his head. "Nay, I'm afraid not. For one, I owe her
an apology and, for another, I need to procure something to eat
for my friend and myself. Also, at least a blanket or two extra
for him for the night."

She smiled, and he was struck with the compassionate understanding that flared in her eyes. There were at least a few Campbells in Kilchurn, it seemed, who were kind, decent folk.

"Well, I can't say as how I can help ye with yer apology," Anne
said wryly, "but I certainly can see to some victuals and blankets
for ye and yer friend. Come"-she indicated he should follow
her back to the kitchen-"first we'll address the matter of yer
meal."

Even if Dar had wished otherwise, there wasn't anything he
could do but accompany her. She was, after all, Kilchurn's lady.
He didn't dare risk, leastwise not yet, crossing Niall Campbell.

"We've yet to be introduced, Lady," he said as they headed
back into the kitchen. "My name is Darach-"

"I know who ye are," Anne Campbell gently interrupted him.
"The news of ye and yer friend's arrival is all over Kilchurn. And
I suppose ye know by now who I am, as well, don't ye?"

He grinned. "It wasn't hard to surmise, Lady."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was most certainly meant as such."

The kitchen was empty, save for a serving girl hurriedly dish ing up what looked to be a mess of boiled potatoes into a large
pottery bowl. When she saw Anne, she curtsied, then returned
to her task.

"I'll have these out to table in but another few minutes, m'lady,"
the girl said. "Cook had us bring out so many bowls tonight, I
confess I couldn't keep up."

"Dinna fash yerself, Sally." Anne gave a dismissing wave of
her hand. "No one has yet to starve at Kilchurn because a bowl
of potatoes was last to be served." She turned to Dar. "Now, let's
see to yet meal, shall we?"

"Tell me what I can do to help, Lady."

He glanced around the enormous kitchen. At one end stood
a large stone hearth that took up most of that wall. Two swees, or
right-angled iron bars attached to an upright bar set in the base
of the hearth, stood swung out with empty iron pots hanging
from them. At the other end of the room, another hearth bore
the remains of a pig that had roasted on a spit.

Numerous shelves covered whatever free wall space there was
in the room. They were filled with pewter plates, mugs, bowls,
pots, a wide assortment of cooking utensils, as well as pottery
jars of all sizes. Several staved barrels were tucked beneath the
large work table. Dar guessed them to be filled with salt, flour,
and other essential and frequently used staples.

It was the kitchen of a prosperous castle, overflowing with
abundance of every kind. Harking back to Dundarave's pitiful
kitchen when last he saw it, Dar couldn't help a small stab of bitterness. Thanks to Scotland's regent, James Stewart, the First Earl
of Moray, and several of the more influential Highland clans-the
Campbells being prime among them-MacNaghtens were on
the brink of starvation, if the active efforts to hunt them down
and slaughter them like animals didn't extirpate them first.

But now wasn't the time to remember such things, he reminded himself fiercely. Now was the time to win his way into the confidence of Niall Campbell and Kilchurn's folk. Now was
the time to rescue his brother. But later ... later there would be
retribution, and it would be as swift and brutal as what had been
meted out to his clan.

"Why don't ye take some of those potatoes before Sally delivers them to the others?" Anne suggested as she took a large
wooden tray off the bottom of one shelf, placed it on the table,
then added two pewter plates. "In the meanwhile, I'll carve ye
and Kenneth a portion of the remaining pork on the spit. And
there's some greens and carrots over there in that bowl"-she
gestured with the knife she had picked up-"that ye can also
dish onto yer plates."

In the next ten minutes, Anne had put together an enormous
spread of food, including bread, two foaming mugs of ale, and
thick slices of custard tart. Finally, she handed him the now
overloaded tray.

"Why don't ye take this down to yer friend? I'll join ye shortly,
just as soon as I fetch some extra blankets from upstairs. I'd like
to officially welcome Kenneth to Kilchurn as well."

Dar accepted the tray and nodded. "As ye wish, Lady. I'm
certain he'll appreciate the visit, as well as everything else ye and
Caitlin have already done in taking us in."

"It's the verra least we could do for any stranger asking our
hospitality."

As he turned to go, Dar couldn't help but wonder if there
hadn't been an underlying emphasis in the woman's voice on the
issue of hospitality. Perhaps it was but his oft-ignored sense of
guilt-whenever he was forced to use or deceive-giving him a
passing twinge of conscience.

Unfortunately, guilt and a conscience were treacherous burdens
these days, a luxury for those who falsely imagined themselves
aggrieved as they continued to live in safe, warm, well-appointed
castles surrounded by powerful friends, and not, instead, con stantly in fear for their lives. For those who didn't continually
wonder if the next man they met might discover their shameful
secret, their open warrant of instant death anytime, anywhere,
and all within the legal bounds of the law.

But such thoughts were pointless and only clouded the mind
to the task at hand, Dar reminded himself as he headed down the
corridor leading to the stairs. He must remain clear-headed and
single-minded. Athe depended on him, and Clan MacNaghten
depended on Athe to lead them. It didn't matter what Dar's feelings were about the disgraceful events that had led to his clan's
proscription. It didn't matter that the truly guilty were either
already dead or imprisoned.

All that mattered was that he do everything in his power to
see the innocent survive. And, for any hope of that happening,
Clan MacNaghten needed their chief. A chief who was totally
unworthy of them and their trust, but a chief who they had
nonetheless confirmed upon the death of their old one. Athe,
whether Dar thought it wise or not, was now the rightful heir
and chief of Clan MacNaghten.

Dar didn't realize how ravenous he was until he finished serving
Kenneth and finally sat down and began his own meal. Indeed,
both men had all but finished their supper by the time Anne
Campbell appeared with an armful of blankets. Immediately,
Dar laid aside his plate and mug and hurried over to her.

"Thank ye for these," he said as he reached for the blankets.
"Between our overfull bellies and these warm coverings, we'll
sleep like the dead this night."

"It's the verra least we can do for ye." Anne smiled, her gaze
moving to where Kenneth lay. "This must be yet friend then."

"Och, aye." Dar laughed. "Pray, forgive my poor manners."
He turned to glance at his friend. "Lady, this is Kenneth Bu chanan, my friend and a verra accomplished bard and harper.
Kenneth, this is the Lady Anne Campbell, wife of the Campbell
clan chief."

The younger man set his tray of food on the hard-packed dirt
floor and made a move to swing his propped-up foot off the
pillows. With an upraised hand, Anne halted him and hurried
to his side.

"Nay, don't trouble yerself over me," she said as she bent and
offered him her hand. "I see Caitlin has wisely instructed ye to
keep yer foot elevated, and that's indeed for the best."

Kenneth grinned. "That she has, Lady, and did a most excellent job treating my foot as well. Thanks to her, I'm certain I'm
on the mend."

"Then I hope ye won't be too disappointed to be seeing me
from now on for the care of yer foot?"

Dar laid the blankets on his bed, then moved to stand beside
her. "It's an honor, and no mistake, to have the lady of the castle
waiting on us. Isn't it, Kenneth?"

A puzzled expression on his face, the bard slowly nodded as
his glance moved first to Dar and then back to Anne. "Aye, it
is indeed. Not that I wouldn't gladly accept Caitlin's aid if ye're
ever too busy to assist me."

"I'm never too busy to assist a guest." She looked to Dar. "If
there's naught else ye'll be needing, it's time I join the others for
supper.

Preoccupied with his troubled thoughts, Dar didn't immediately realize she was talking to him. "Ah ... nay, there's naught
we're now lacking, Lady," he finally said, before striding to the
door and opening it for her. "Pray, allow me to escort ye back."

"It isn't necessary. I well know my way about Kilchurn."

"Then, if ye will, permit me to walk with ye a bit. I've something I'd like to discuss with ye."

She shrugged. "As ye wish."

They set out and, almost as soon as they were beyond earshot
of Kenneth, Dar halted. "Is it my fault that Caitlin can't return
to care for Kenneth's foot?"

"Aye, to some extent." Kilchurn's lady steadily met his gaze.
"Caitlin's young and not always the best judge of men. And
Campbell hospitality only extends so far, especially when it concerns the welfare of my sister-in-law."

Momentarily, Dar was struck speechless. "Y-yer sister-in-law?"
he managed at last to stammer out. "But that would make Caitlin-"

"Niall's sister, of course." She quirked an auburn brow. "Didn't
ye know who she was?"

"Nay." Dread rose like some turbid mist to curl around his
heart. "She introduced herself as Caitlin Campbell, of course,
but Janet and that lad Jamie were also Campbells. I thought they
were all members of yer clan, but likely servants. And then when
she said she was a healer ... well, that all but confirmed she was
a common lass of some sort."