The Hellion and the Highlander (18 page)

He scowled at her, anger on his face, but there was admiration, too. “Ye’re turnin’ out to be a tricky lass, wife.”

“Aye.” Averill smiled, knowing she had won.

Kade shook his head, but then said, “Verra well. I’ll stay here. I’ve much to set into action now I’m officially laird anyway. But yer to stick close to Will and no’ wander off from yer guard.”

“Aye, husband,” she said at once, giving him a sweet and dutiful smile.

Kade’s lips twitched, and he shook his head. “In all the things he told me about ye, Will never once mentioned this streak o’ cleverness ye ha’e.”

“I am not clever,” she said at once, then repeated her mother’s often-spoken warning. “Cleverness is unappealing in a woman.”

“Neither is hair like fire supposed to be, and yet I find both verra appealin’,” Kade assured her, slipping an arm about her waist and drawing her up against his chest, only to wince as the damaged muscles of his back complained.

“You must be careful,” Averill said solemnly, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

“Aye.” He sighed, then gave her a crooked smile, and said, “Someday I will get to bed ye again, wife.”

“I look forward to it,” she whispered, and rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was a quick brushing
of lips only. Averill had no desire to start something they could not presently finish.

A knock at the door sounded as she lowered her heels back to the floor, and when Kade let his arm slip from around her waist, she slid away to open it and found Will on the other side. He smiled at her, then glanced over her shoulder to Kade.

“Your father is wondering if you will return.”

“Aye,” Kade said, moving up behind Averill. “But first I’ve a favor to ask o’ ye.”

“Anything, my friend,” Will assured him.

“Averill has run out o’ one o’ her healing weeds and must take a little jaunt down by the river.”

“I will accompany her,” Will said at once, and added, “as you have much to do here.”

“Aye. Thank ye,” Kade muttered, and his expression told Averill he was not fooled at all by the words. She suspected that he, too, had noted the worry that had flashed over Will’s face and the alacrity with which he’d offered to accompany her and also concluded that her brother was as eager to keep Kade from going out and making himself a target as she was. “I’d suggest ye take at least a dozen men with ye, just in case. Two would be better, but—”

“I shall take three dozen,” Will said with a grin, then added, “as they will be glad to be doing something.”

“Well,” Averill said brightly, “you had best go speak to your father, husband. We will head out at once and return quickly.”

“Aye,” he growled, and started to bend as if to kiss her, but paused and winced as it triggered pain in his back.

Averill quickly rose to brush her lips across his again, and whispered, “Do not strain yourself today. Give orders only and leave the labor to others, and if you grow weary, rest. There is no shame in it; you are healing from a dangerous wound.”

“Aye, aye,” Kade muttered, pushing her gently toward Will. “Now get ye gone so I can start settin’ this keep to rights.”

Nodding, Averill stepped past her brother into the hall and headed for the stairs, with Will on her heels.

“Take a dozen men with ye, Will,” Kade called, then added, “Nay, two dozen. And doona let her out o’ yer sight. She can be a tricky lass.”

“Aye,” Will answered, as they started down the stairs. And then he snorted. “Tricky? Where the devil did he get that idea?”

“I do not know,” Averill said, offering him a sweet smile.

Will shook his head. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he said, “I shall arrange everything while you break your fast.”

“Have you eaten already, then?” she asked absently as she noted Laddie’s head poking out of the kitchen door. Even as she spotted him, he turned to say something to the women in the kitchens, then slid through the door to approach her.
My
little guard dog,
she thought with amusement. Presumably, he had decided ’twas safer to watch for her from there than to loiter in the hall and risk Brodie’s unpleasantness.

“Aye. I have been up for hours,” Will said, drawing her attention back to him. “You and Kade slept late. Was his wound troubling him?”

“Nay. At least he did not complain, but we both had trouble sleeping. I was too busy fretting about the possibility of rolling over in my sleep and jostling him, and he, no doubt, was busy fretting about everything else.”

“Aye. He’s had much to fret about,” Will said solemnly as he ushered her to the table. “But his father’s giving up the title and position as laird eases one of those worries.”

“And adds a hundred more,” Averill said wryly.

“But even those hundred worries will not burden him as much as the possibility of having to fight his own father for the right to run Stewart,” he assured her.

Averill nodded, knowing Kade hadn’t worried over the possibility of losing in a battle with his father but over the very fact of having to fight him. It was hard to take arms against kin even if it was occasionally necessary. Fortunately, it wouldn’t be necessary here.

“Good morn, little man,” Will greeted Laddie, as the lad met them at the table. “Will you keep Lady Averill company while she breaks her fast?”

“Aye. I tol’ the women she was about,” Laddie announced importantly. “And Lily’s bringin’ her something.”

“Good lad,” Will praised, then glanced to Averill as she sat down. He said, “Do not rush. It will take me some time to arrange things.”

Laddie climbed up on the bench beside her as Will left. He smiled at her brightly and wished her good morn, looking happy and cheerful despite the new bruise by his eye. Brodie had cuffed him well, Averill thought unhappily, but forced a smile, and said, “You seem very chipper this morning, Laddie. What has you smiling like that?”

“Ye’ll see,” he said with certainty, then explained, “’Tis a surprise.”

“A surprise?” she asked with interest and glanced toward the kitchens as the door opened and Lily trooped out with Morag, Annie, and Bess following. Lily was biting her lip and flushed with some excitement as she crossed to her, but the other three women were positively beaming with anticipation. Even the usually dour Morag.

“Somethin’ to break yer fast with, me lady,” Lily said with a pleased flush as she set the tray before her.

Averill peered down at the offerings, noting her customary morning cider, and her eyes widened at the sight of the flaky pastries. She raised her eyes back to Lily. “Did you make these?”

The girl nodded, looking fit to burst.

“Try one,” Laddie demanded. “They fair melt in yer mouth and are so delicious Annie wept. Lily had to fight us off to keep us from eatin’ ’em all up on ye.”

“Did she?” Averill asked with amusement as she picked up one of the still-warm treats.

“Aye. And ye ken soon as the men ken about ’em, they’ll gobble ’em up. So ye’d best be eatin’ ’em while there are still some to eat.”

Averill smiled at the claim, took a bite of the delicate pastry, and felt her eyes widen with amazement. Dear God the pastry did melt in her mouth, and the fruit center burst with flavor. She chewed slowly, sighing at the delicious flavor, then swallowed and turned adoring eyes to Lily.

“You are a goddess with pastries, Lily. This is quite the most delicious I have ever eaten. You obviously got your flair for cooking from your mother, for this is very fine. Even the Devil of Donnachaidh’s aunt does not make them as fine, and she is renowned for them.”

“Really?” Lily almost squealed the word, her face a wreath of awe and pleasure at the compliment, and, for the first time, Averill realized the girl was quite pretty when not looking the sad, miserable, pale girl she’d been since they arrived.

“Aye, really,” she assured her.

“Thank ye, me lady.” Lily grinned her relief and pleasure, and asked, “Shall I make more, then, diya think?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Averill assured her. “For I fear Laddie is right. Once the men taste them, they will indeed gobble them up.”

Beaming brightly, the girl nodded, curtsied, then turned to rush back to the kitchens, apparently eager to start at once.

“Thank ye, fer that, me lady,” Morag said, watching with a fond smile as her daughter bustled away. Turning back to Averill once the girl disappeared into the kitchen, she added, “Ye’ve made her most happy with yer compliments.”

“I spoke only the truth,” Averill assured her. “You are both fine cooks, Morag, and I should be happy to leave the kitchens in your hands rather than have Aidan find the previous cook and bring him back if the two of you were willing?”

“Diya mean it?” she asked with amazement.

“Aye,” Averill said solemnly.

Morag started to grin, but then paused as she peered around the great hall. Will’s men had removed the rushes the day before, which had at least improved the smell in the room, but the filth caking the floor was more obvious.

“I would like it,” Morag said on a small sigh. “And I ken Lily would, too, but it seems to me yer more in need o’ a maid than a cook at the moment, me lady.”

Bess moved to sit on Averill’s other side, suggesting, “Mayhap you could make a trip down to the village and announce that your husband is now laird here, and the staff is welcome back.”

Averill raised her eyebrows at the suggestion, and asked with surprise, “Do you mean they are all down in the village?”

“Nay, but Annie says the pub owner is the center of all the information about Stewart for those who left. His son will take the message around.”

“But will the people return?” Averill asked solemnly.

“Aye,” Annie said at once, settling with a wince on Laddie’s other side. “They’re Stewarts, and Stewarts would rather be at Stewart. All but the cook,” she added with a grimace. “He was French and snooty as sin. All smiles and sighs when Lady Merewen an’ her mother were around, but all snide and mean about the family the moment she was out o’ earshot.”

“Well then, I shall have to detour to the village when Will takes me out,” Averill decided.

“Where’s yer brother takin’ us?” Laddie asked at once, and she smiled at the boy’s determined expression.

“I have run out of a certain medicinal, and he is gathering some men to take me to look for more. I mean he is taking us to look for them,” she corrected quickly when he began to scowl.

His expression relaxed then, and he nodded solemnly. “’Tis good to keep yer medicinals well stocked with the way the laird keeps gettin’ hurt.”

“Aye,” Averill said dryly.

“How many men?” Annie then asked, looking thoughtful.

“I believe he said he was bringing three dozen with us,” Averill admitted, then asked, “Why do you ask, Annie?”

“Well now, me lady, three dozen is a lot o’ men. They could cut down and gather enough new rushes in a trice to bring back with ye,” she pointed out.

“Aye, if she could get the men to do it,” Morag said dryly. “They carped so much about gatherin’ the dirty ones, I suspect they’ll no’ be pleased to have to collect fresh ones to replace ’em.”

“Besides, the floor has to be cleaned ere fresh rushes are put down,” Bess pointed out.

“The three o’ us could do it,” Annie said, and when the other two women gasped in horror, she shrugged. “A little hard work ne’er hurt a body yet. We could at least make a start on it, and if her ladyship does stop to talk to the inn owner and the word spreads, we may ha’e help with it by the noonin’.”

The other two women grumbled but agreed.

“So?” Annie asked. “Will ye see if the men will gather some rushes while they’re out there standin’ around lookin’ important?”

“Aye,” Averill assured her, but thought she would do better than that. If they were taking only three dozen men with them, that left a lot of soldiers to mill around the bailey all afternoon doing nothing. It would not hurt them to scrape away the hard bits of dry filth on the floor so the women need only mop the stone after them. She would talk to Will, she decided, as the women all stood
to move off toward the kitchens, leaving her and Laddie alone.

Glancing to the boy, Averill noted the way he was eyeing the pastries before her. Smiling, she took another one, then nudged the tray toward him. “Go ahead, help yourself. You will need your strength if you are going to be traipsing about cutting and gathering rushes.”

“Me?” he asked with surprise.

“Well, aye. We cannot make the men do something we are not willing to do ourselves, can we?” Averill said reasonably.

He considered that, and asked, “Does that mean we have to help muck out the great hall when we get back?”

Averill grimaced, for it was a huge job, and she had no doubt the men and maids would still be working at it when they returned, which meant that they would indeed have to help out. Ah well, once started, quickly done, as her mother used to say when approaching unpleasant tasks.

Will was quick about arranging men to accompany them. He smiled when he saw her waiting at the top of the steps with Laddie beside her as he crossed the bailey, leading two horses and a pony as well as three dozen mounted men. That smile disappeared, however, when she asked him about having men aid in cleaning the great-hall floor.

“Avy,” he groaned.

“I know,” Averill said sympathetically. “But it
has to be done, and we are terribly short of staff at the moment. If they could just help out—”

“Aye,” he interrupted, and reached out to practically toss her up in the saddle, before saying grimly, “I shall talk to my captain.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, watching him go.

Averill then glanced to Laddie, who stood uncertainly beside her mare, eyeing the pony Will had brought for him with a combination of longing and horror. She bit her lip at his expression, knowing he couldn’t possibly have ever ridden a horse. She doubted he’d ever even left the keep except to make short excursions into the bailey, and while he was Brodie’s son—legitimately or not—until they had arrived, he’d been treated like the maid’s boy. She didn’t know what her brother had been thinking, perhaps that this short jaunt to the river was an opportunity to teach the boy to ride, or perhaps because he’d been riding by Laddie’s age, he’d unthinkingly assumed he knew how to as well; but she wasn’t going to make the boy ride when he looked so terrified.