Tempting the Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  Raelynd stood transfixed, unable to speak or move. Aileen sighed with compassion. She bent down and picked up Bonny and cradled the young girl on her hip. “I realize you may not be aware of all that must take place to keep a home running—”

  The comment snapped Raelynd back into the present. If Aileen thought managing a single cottage home difficult, she had no idea the effort it took to oversee a castle and the needs of multiple families, not just one. “I am more than aware, Aileen.”

  Laurel’s friend reached up and yanked off the kertch from her head to reveal the lovely tawny mass it had been concealing. “Then I guess I should leave you to do what you know must be done. Children! Come! Let’s go play in the meadow and give Lady Raelynd some room.” A minute later, Aileen was gone and Raelynd was left alone to prepare for Finn and his afternoon supper.

  Raelynd collapsed on her bed. She should be dressing and preparing for dinner—something she not only had been looking forward to all day, but needed. Her body, however, was not cooperating. Every muscle was exhausted and aching with pain. But that throbbing in her limbs was nothing compared to the sharp pounding in her head. She had lived nearly twenty-two years and in that time, never had she been scolded and admonished as she had been today.

  Oh, Aileen had used a pleasant tone with each and every nitpicking thing she found to be corrected, but Raelynd knew it was not genuine. For it was the exact tone she herself used with her servants when giving them instruction. The difference was that Aileen knew the effort it took to perform all the chores. Finn, however, did not care and in his home, it did not matter whose daughter you were or to whom you were engaged. When Aileen stated that the man did not like his home to be soiled, Raelynd had thought she meant obvious grime, not a thin layer of dust on the mantel no one was using! The man was insufferable!

  He complained at the lack of meat and asked why the newly harvested crops were not being served. He bemoaned the vegetables he was given, claiming them to be poorly cooked and bland. Both assessments she inwardly agreed with, but it bothered her that neither he nor Aileen cared that she had never cooked before and was just learning how to manage all that she needed to do in the short amount of time she had. An encouraging word was what she had needed. Not a tedious account of all she failed to do well.

  Raelynd closed her eyes, recounting Aileen’s routine.

  Clean on Monday

  Wash on Tuesday

  Mend on Wednesday

  Churn on Thursday

  Bake on Friday

  Visit the sick on Saturday

  Rest on Sunday

  Sunday was a very very long time away.

  She had survived Monday, but Tuesday was laundry—the one chore for which she demanded near perfection from her servants. Would Aileen be just as critical? Maybe she could convince Meriel to change places with her. But before she could plan out how and when, Raelynd was asleep, still dressed in her soiled kirtle and with slippers on her feet.

  “You are still doing it wrong. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?” Brenna asked candidly, as only a young child could without fear of retribution.

  The young boys in the room began to giggle and Meriel closed her eyes and counted to five, wishing again that she had risen in time to talk with Raelynd about switching roles. Unfortunately she had fallen asleep and only awakened when Fallon started pounding on her door. “My mother died when I was twelve,” Meriel finally answered.

  Brenna was not sympathetic. “I’m only seven and I know all the dances. How are you supposed to teach what you don’t know?”

  Meriel bristled, praying someone would come in and ask for the little girl. Brenna’s question was a legitimate one, but it rankled that it came from someone so young. Raelynd probably did know everything Brenna did at the same age. She had received such instruction like a dry cloth absorbed water. Meriel had resisted against such teachings and her mother acquiesced to her rebellion. She never knew the Lady of the Castle also was responsible for educating a handful of selected young boys on the topics of religion, music, dancing, and hunting before they grew old enough to begin weapon training.

  “Ah-hem.” Meriel twisted to look who was clearing his throat in an effort to gain her attention. No surprise, it was Fallon.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved at the possibility that she was going to have to end this week’s lessons prematurely or fearful at what new problem he was going to pass on for her to handle. Didn’t he remember yesterday? She could still hear Fallon’s booming voice ringing in her ears about how no one who grew up in a castle could be so inept as to how to run one.

  “Fallon,” she acknowledged.

  “You are needed, my lady, in the buttery.”

  Meriel rose to her feet and followed Fallon to the corridor that linked directly to the buttery and the kitchens. Meriel scanned the small room and could find nothing wrong. The bakery had been complete mayhem, but here the barrels lined up against the back wall appeared to be intact, no leaks were visible, and nothing seemed to be amiss. “Everything looks fine, Fallon.”

  The burly steward’s face turned bright red so that it nearly matched the scarlet streaks in his gray beard. “Count the barrels, my lady.”

  Meriel did as asked. “I see five.”

  “On average, my lady, do you know how many people drink the castle’s ale on a given day?”

  A heaviness centered in Meriel’s chest as another lecture was about to begin.

  “There are typically between seventy and eighty people who depend on this buttery for their drink. Half of those are soldiers either coming in from the training fields eager for their turn at a warm meal and a mug of ale or are standing guard, protecting this place through day and night. The other half are people who serve this place with little acknowledgment of their efforts. But the one thing they are assured of is four to five large mugs of ale each day,” Fallon finished, swinging a large mug that was more the size of a small pitcher than a drinking cup.

  Meriel swallowed and remained mum for she knew Fallon was not yet done. “A single barrel holds thirty-two gallons, enough for just over two dozen men. And with four unopened barrels and one already being drained, the buttery does not look fine, my lady. It looks empty. The ale will be gone before tomorrow’s end and all will be looking to you to decide who will go without.”

  Meriel stared at him in astonishment. “Me?” she asked incredulously. “Why me?”

  “You are the Lady of the Castle.”

  A frisson of anger went up Meriel’s spine. “I’ll tell you right now that I will not be making that decision. I had nothing to do with the stores getting so low and I will not be involved in angering those to be affected by someone’s poor performance,” she huffed.

  “As of yesterday you were in charge of those stores and the laird will hold you accountable.”

  Meriel’s green eyes widened with fear of what was to come. “What can I do about it, though?”

  Fallon just stared at the young woman for several seconds, dumbfounded. He knew Lady McTiernay was unusually gifted in the ways of running a castle, but he had not realized how truly blessed he was that she had not arrived to McTiernay Castle naive and clueless to castle life.

  Fallon took pity on Meriel and lowered his voice to what he hoped was an amiable level. “The bottler, my lady. You need to find the butler and tell him to bring up more barrels and how many to retrieve.”

  The simple answer irked Meriel enormously. Why didn’t he just state that in the first place? Why couldn’t Fallon have come into the Great Hall and said that she needed to find the bottler and have a dozen barrels added to the buttery? The man intentionally made things difficult just so he could give a lecture. He obviously thrived on them. No doubt he even tried to critique Lady McTiernay on the methods of running a castle on more than one occasion. There was no way he could help himself. “And what if I cannot find the bottler? It is obvious he has not been attending the buttery for several days. Perhaps he is sick.”

&
nbsp; “Then, my lady, I suggest you find someone who can restock this room.”

  Meriel glared at the back of Fallon’s head as he disappeared into the corridor. She was not prone to violence, but someday she was going to physically attack that man. He, too, had some lessons to learn, but a long lecture was not going to be her method of delivery.

  Raelynd stifled a yawn as she threw the dripping wet leine over the bush for it to dry.

  “Ah, Aileen’s finery looks clean, my lady. What you are doing for her is a mighty fine thing. I did not know that another noblewoman besides our own lady would help with such work.”

  Raelynd put her hands on her hips and surveyed the meadow, which was littered with linens and clothes from the castle village. Every Tuesday, the women got together if the weather was favorable to do the wash by the riverside. Not everything got washed each week so by the time most items made it to the river, they were filthy. Work started at dawn to allow the sun most of the day to bleach and dry the laundry. Raelynd had seen the sunrise before, but only after staying up all night enjoying some festivity, certainly not because she was at work. And yet, she felt good.

  “Aye,” Raelynd finally replied to the clanswoman who had laid her stuff to dry nearby. “It does look clean. I thought I would never finish. Aileen has so much more than everyone else. I wonder how a single family can accumulate so much laundry.”

  The woman laughed, but it held no ridicule. “Aye, they are privileged to have so much laundry, aren’t they? I wish my man had some more undershirts and I had the bed linens to wash that you did. To live in a cottage of the commander’s size may need more tending, but it’s worth it, don’t you agree? To have all that room?” Then before Raelynd could answer, the woman waved her hand and added, “But then why am I telling you, my lady? You live in a castle. The small amount of wash we did this morn doesn’t compare to Thursdays when the laundress comes out with the castle linens. I’m sure it is the same where you’re from.”

  The fields they had covered this morning were quite large and to think the castle laundry’s needs were even greater was hard to envision. She had never actually spoken to her laundress about where the clothes were washed or dried.

  “Well, it was a pleasure to have you join us this morning, but I best get back and work on supper,” said the woman, who immediately turned to leave.

  Raelynd went over to where she had stashed the wooden board, lye, and animal fat soap Aileen had given her this morning. She headed back looking forward to eating some bread and fruit after such an arduous morning.

  “You have finally returned,” Aileen stated. She had made the comment in a friendly tone and with a smile, but it did not matter to Raelynd. It was rude. Aileen knew what she had been doing and the hard work was completely unappreciated.

  Deciding to ignore the barb, Raelynd went over to the table and lifted the linen cloth covering the loaf of bread and pulled a piece off. She was just about to sit down and pour herself some water when Aileen asked, “What are you doing?”

  Raelynd stared at her incredulously. Was Aileen’s question serious? “I’m hungry and thirsty and I was going to sit for a while. I’ve been up since dawn.”

  Aileen’s eyes met Raelynd’s disparagingly as she watched Raelynd chew the bread. “I am fully aware that you have been up for a few hours, and while your efforts are appreciated, food still must be prepared and yesterday not all the cleaning was completed. The chamber pots must be washed out today.”

  Raelynd was sure she had not understood correctly. She was Laird Rae Schellden’s daughter. She was Lady of Caireoch Castle. Chamber pots, garderobes, wash basins . . . these were for chambermaids. Not her. There was a limit. “I’m not cleaning a chamber pot.”

  Aileen ignored the comment. “And as for the bread, I put that out for the children to nibble on once I realized you would be serving supper late today, so please do not have any more.”

  Raelynd swallowed the single bite and went to pour herself a drink only to find the pitcher empty. Aileen nodded as if Raelynd was confirming there was no water, not actually desiring some. “Aye, I normally fetch some water before I leave for the river, but you can get it now. Be sure to get enough to prepare supper. Once you are done, if you are still hungry, go to the castle kitchens. I’m sure they have plenty they can give you there.”

  Raelynd glared at Aileen, who appeared oblivious to the tension building in the room. She was half tempted to explain that critical comments voiced in a pleasant tone did nothing to lessen their impact; if anything it only made them worse. Instead, Raelynd rose to her feet and grabbed the bucket to head out the door. If she stayed any longer, all the negative emotions boiling inside would explode and that was about the only thing that could make this day any worse. Or so she thought.

  That night Raelynd heard a tapping on the door and considered ignoring it. She was completely out of patience to talk to anyone, including her sister. Too much had happened and very little of it had been good.

  The tapping continued and Raelynd stifled a groan. Meriel, when she chose to be, could be far more stubborn than anyone in their family. Rising to her feet, Raelynd went and unlatched the door to open it.

  Meriel walked in and wrinkled her nose. “Lord, Lyndee, you really should bathe. You stink.”

  “I may stink, but taking a bath is a waste of energy and time for tomorrow I shall only grow to smell foul again. Besides, I’m too tired to wash and dry my hair.”

  Meriel made another face but then gave a shrug and went to sit down in the chair. “I understand. I have never been so tired in my life. You would not dream of everything they want me to believe Lady McTiernay does on a daily basis.”

  Raelynd took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Meriel was in the mood to talk and in truth, she was not the only one. Maybe they could lean on each other to get through the next couple of days until Laurel returned. “What are they having you do?”

  “Meet with the scullery maid and help select vegetables and then seek out the butcher to learn what meat is available before talking with the cook to decide on the meals.”

  “It gets easier,” Raelynd said, pulling off a slipper. “I no longer even think of it as a chore. Kind of like brushing my hair.”

  Meriel huffed and intertwined her fingers. “Well, that is not all. Fallon has forced me to be in charge of everything . He just leaves all the problems to me to solve while he handles other things. I try to meet with the various staff and give instructions, but I am constantly interrupted with problems.”

  Raelynd nodded and covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her yawn. “Aye, there is always something. Just make the decision and hope it is the right one.”

  Meriel twisted in the chair and gaped openly at her sister when she saw that Raelynd was serious. “That is the problem! Our chambermaids never fight or just refuse to finish their responsibilities because they feel it is unfair they have to do more work because one of them is sick.”

  Raelynd wanted to ask at what castle did her sister live in, for it certainly wasn’t Caireoch. “It’s not exactly uncommon.”

  “It isn’t?” Meriel asked in disbelief. “Well, what about moles? Do you have to chase those nasty little burrowing creatures in our garden? Do we even have a garden?”

  Raelynd couldn’t believe Meriel’s questions. Had her sister truly never ventured into any of the working areas of Caireoch? “Aye, we have a garden. A large one. Remember you complaining about the bees earlier this year and I said it was because the fruit trees were blooming? Where did you think those trees were?”

  Meriel crinkled her forehead and then shrugged. “I thought they were out in the fields, with the farms, where they grew the food.”

  Raelynd began to undo her long braid and massaged her scalp, not knowing how to respond. “Did you get to meet with the weavers?” she asked, hoping for a more positive topic.

  “Not once!” Meriel moaned. “The candle maker ran out of what he needed and told me he could make the candles from b
eeswax. I thought that was a splendid idea, but—”

  Raelynd gasped. “You didn’t give him permission, did you?”

  “I did. What else was I supposed to do?”

  “Either find some tallow or have some made. The candle maker should have been keeping track of what was in storage, warning you or the steward when he was low.”

  Upset with Raelynd’s tone, Meriel furrowed her brow and said through gritted teeth, “Well, he didn’t. So he used beeswax and now Fallon says Laird McTiernay will be furious with me.”

  Raelynd bent over to slip off her other shoe, mumbling, “I bet he will be.” Beeswax burned much cleaner than tallow, but animal fat was much easier and far cheaper to use, especially in large quantities. Raelynd had standing instructions to use beeswax in select areas at select times.

  “But that will be nothing compared to when he learns that I approved of Father Lanaghly’s request to use the extra material I saw in the storage rooms to remake all the cushions in the chapel. You won’t believe me, but Fallon’s face turned almost a deep purple. I truly thought he was going to pass out.”

  Raelynd collapsed on the bed. “If I could trade your day for mine, I would, but you would hate me, for what I am doing is far harder than anything I have ever done before.”

  “Just what are you doing?”

  Everything, Raelynd thought. “Cooking, cleaning, washing. I even have to get the water.”

  “Ugh.”

  Meriel’s response was appropriate, but if she had been clueless about castle responsibilities, there was no way she could imagine the work and the effort Raelynd was expending. “The work is awful and hard, but that is not what truly bothers me. It’s Aileen.”

  “She seems so nice.”

  “And that’s just how she relays every criticism—nicely. Not once has she said thank you or good job or I appreciate all that you are doing. She just says ‘Please don’t eat the bread, it is for others,’” Raelynd said, sarcastically mimicking the sweet tone. “Or ‘You missed a spot, please redo the table.’ Or ‘You are finally back’ after hours of me bending over a board in the river to clean her family’s clothes!”