The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3)

by Rebecca Ruger

  Their kissing was needful and urgent, their clothing bothersome and hastily pushed aside. And then happily, wondrously, Jamie was pressing himself into her, instructing with some urgency, “Wrap your legs around me.” She did so, and he drove deep. Ada arched her back and curled her toes as she crossed her ankles at his back. She lifted her hips and met each thrust, pushing back, sliding her hands under his tunic and all over his chest. All at once, she wanted this to never end even as she begged him, “Oh, please,” to give her what she needed.

  They came quickly and nearly at the same time, Jamie’s hand pinning her hip to the bed as it washed over them, while he closed his eyes and even his cheekbones bunched and moved with all that coursed through him.

  “Jesu, lass,” he breathed raggedly, “how do you make it feel so damn good?”

  Ada could not stifle in time the very unladylike snort of laughter. “I’m not sure, being relatively new at this.” Her husband’s chuckle rumbled against her shoulder, where he’d collapsed. But his question begot her own. “Are you telling me this is a game of chance? Does it not always feel like this?”

  Jamie slumped onto his back beside her. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “Nae, lass. This is...” he broke off, searching.

  Love? She almost supplied but bit her lip quickly to forestall so daring a suggestion, having no idea where that had come from.

  “I dinna ken,” he said. “But I’m no complaining, wife.”

  Ada had gone completely still, flummoxed by her presently churning thoughts. Love?

  When his breathing had returned to normal, Jamie pulled her away from these fanciful notions with, “What sent you off from the kitchens in such a lather, lass?”

  Pushing out a tortured sigh, Ada’s brain was too twisted to explain Baldwin’s rudeness, yet she bothered to ask, “Am I allowed, as your wife, to manage the household as I see fit?”

  He turned toward her, though did not answer, mayhap even threw out some questioning frown, so that Ada softened the inquiry. “Am I allowed to make any necessary changes for the betterment of Aviemore?”

  “Aye, so long as it’s no too drastic a change.” There hung still a question in his voice, but he qualified his response with, “You’re a clever lass, I ken. You need only to rule fairly but firmly.”

  Ada smiled, pleased with this reply. Nevertheless, she remained fairly overwhelmed with the idea that she might be in love with her husband.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ada entered the kitchen the next morning, less sure of her plan than she was of her objective. She bid a cheery good morning to Agnes and announced her presence to Baldwin. While Agnes was delighted to see her, the cook showed not nearly so warm a welcome. The natty man in the colorful turban shot her what Ada could only surmise was a warning look. This, she chose to ignore. She introduced herself to the kitchen staff, most of whom were present now.

  She met the young lasses, Fiona and Moira, who were tasked with much of the serving and the washing. The lads, John and Boyd, were merrily called the ‘foragers and gatherers’ by Agnes, as they were charged with lifting and lugging and, according to Boyd, “the grimy work”. Ada met Joanna, a young woman perhaps only a few years older than herself, who seemed only a browbeaten slave to Baldwin, if Ada’s short time in the kitchen were any indication.

  Twice, while Ada had been in conversation with the woman, Baldwin had barked out some order, his face turning red at finding Joanna talking with Ada.

  Ada ignored him, smiling serenely at Joanna, sorry for her flustered uncertainty. She was a mousy thing, whose entire body seemed to jerk with each sound from the cook’s mouth.

  Ada suggested softly, “Mayhap, Joanna, you would do well in a different part of the keep?”

  Joanna was surprised by the offer of escape, glancing nervously around to see if Baldwin had heard. Truly, Ada was more shocked by the woman’s refusal. Her liquid brown eyes focused on Ada with some regret. She lifted a plump hand and squeezed the fingers into her palm.

  “Aye, and you’re verra kind, my lady,” said Joanna, “But betwixt you and me, I love the cooking and the creating. I’d no like to be anywhere else.”

  Baldwin stepped between Ada and Joanna, where they stood near the prep counter, his face angry with a blotchy redness.

  “I had spoken only yesterday to you, my lady. Your presence is not required—”

  Ada reddened his face yet more when she held up a hand, very close to his face, to silence him. He had, after all, interrupted.

  Joanna’s eyes widened, sending her brows up into the scarf upon her head.

  “How long have you labored in the kitchens, Joanna?” Ada continued.

  “M—many years now, my lady.” The poor thing. She remained perfectly still, only her eyes moving, darting back and forth between Ada, her hand, and Baldwin.

  Ada gave her an encouraging smile. “Oh, you probably have so many favorite recipes?”

  Joanna returned with a slow nod.

  Baldwin tired of waiting, and with a not so quiet growl, took himself away.

  “My husband tells me,” Ada went on, lowering her hand, “that down at a house called Inesfree, they bake apples into the bread, and use something called cinnamon to flavor it.”

  Joanna’s eyes lit up. She lost her trepidation and with Baldwin further away, warmed to the topic. With a fair amount of excitement, she said, “Aviemore has its own orchard, my lady. Though we willna see apples until the end of summer.”

  “And cinnamon?”

  “I’ve never heard tell of that.”

  “Perhaps I can beg my husband to collect some when next he is at Inesfree. He says it’s his favorite food.”

  The shy woman grinned at this, at the laird’s lady wanting to please him.

  Baldwin was barking again, this time at young Fiona, whom he was chasing out of the larder and back into the kitchen. In his anger, he was certainly more difficult to understand. Fiona wrested her arm out of his grasp and tried to apologize. The meaty fisted cook cracked her across the face, yelling louder.

  Ada rushed to the girl, who held her cheek and flinched with each harsh syllable.

  “Stop this at once!” Ada called. Stepping between Fiona and Baldwin, Ada hissed into his face, “You will not ever strike this girl—not any person—in this kitchen! Ever!”

  She couldn’t have been more stunned by his response than if he’d slapped her, too. He switched to his native tongue, stabbing his finger in Ada’s face with whatever angry words he spat at her.

  “Get out,” Ada said, her own ire risen, her words fierce. “Get out of this kitchen and get out of this keep.”

  The red-faced cook only snarled at her and turned his back, taking up whatever work he’d been about, as if Ada had not just spoken to him, had not indeed just kicked him out.

  Stymied, Ada glanced around. Agnes stood, eyes as wide as trenchers, her chubby little fingers covering her mouth. Joanna was mute as well, her jaw gaping. Fiona stared up at her with a similar expression of shock and awe.

  “Baldwin,” Ada called to the man’s back, “your services are no longer required at Aviemore.”

  He turned, only his head, and said, with a curled lip, “You do not make those decisions.”

  Oh, the arrogance of the man!

  Ada ushered Fiona away from the man and put her into Agnes’s care and then left the kitchen. The hall was empty, but fortuitously, Callum was walking in from the bailey just as Ada wondered how far she might have to go to find help.

  “Perfect timing, Callum,” she called. “I need your assistance.”

  This seemed to please him, and he stepped lively to reach her. The soldier Peter was with him and followed.

  “I need you to remove Baldwin from the keep,” she said.

  God bless him, while he appeared truly befuddled, Callum only nodded.

  She applauded his immediate trust in her decision, and while he’d asked no question, she explained curtly, even as she began walking back to the kitchen,
“He struck the kitchen lass, Fiona,” she said over her shoulder as Callum and Peter followed her. “We will, of course, not tolerate any abuse of our lasses.”

  “Aye, my lady, we will no.”

  Ada was quite sure she detected both pride and purpose in the captain’s voice. At the end of the corridor, he instructed, “Step aside, my lady,” while touching her elbow.

  She did, and Callum and Peter entered the kitchen first.

  All eyes turned at their coming. Apparently, in the very short time Ada had been gone, Baldwin had already bullied the staff back to their work.

  “You come on with us, Cook,” Callum ordered. “You’re done here now.”

  “She,” Baldwin hissed, pointing sharply at Ada, “cannot dismiss me.”

  “Aye, she can, and she did,” Callum assured him.

  Baldwin raged, “I am descended from nobility. I am named for a king!”

  “I am descended from a merchant,” Ada said and shrugged, showing him lineage meant nothing. “But I am the wife of your laird. And you are a rotten person.”

  Peter stepped forward, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “I’m going to be right pissed if I have to come fetch you,” said Callum, lifting his brow, giving the cook the opportunity to leave without incident.

  Baldwin’s face, at this moment, mottled with several different shades of red. To Ada’s surprise, after a very tense moment, in which he flexed his hand that held a knife, he displayed again that courtly grace, gently lying the knife upon the counter and leaving the kitchen under escort.

  Callum shot a wink at Ada as he followed Peter and Baldwin out of the room.

  Ada pivoted, as the three men disappeared, to find four females regarding her with speechless wonder. Then Fiona rushed over to her and hugged her tightly around the waist. Ada returned the embrace then put her hands on the young girl’s face, bringing her gaze up. “No man is ever allowed to mistreat us.” She looked around at Agnes and Moira and Joanna. “Not any of us.”

  “You are so brave,” Joanna said, her tone imbued with admiration.

  “I’m not sure about that,” Ada said with a nervous laugh. “However, I’m not a ninny. I fight the battles I can. I seek help for those I cannot.”

  Agnes clapped her hands at this and chortled, “Aye, a fine thing you’ve done, lass, and good riddance to the pig.” Her chuckle only grew larger as she wondered, “But are you to be cooking our meals yourself?”

  Even Joanna slapped her hand over her mouth at this unforeseen consequence.

  Ada considered this, recalling Agnes’s words about being excited about having lesser duties. And here, she’d just created more work. She looked to Joanna. “Might you be interested in the position?”

  A very tongue-tied Joanna could only gape at Ada. “But my lady—”

  “But nothing. You said only moments ago, you love the work. You have the experience. You’ll likely have a more efficient staff—people work better when they work without fear.”

  Joanna’s smile was slow. She pressed a hand over her heart. “I would be honored.”

  Everyone smiled now, and Agnes wondered to Ada, “What you going to get at tomorrow, lass?”

  ADA FOUND CALLUM AGAIN a short while later, near the smithy shed, holding three short, handle-less daggers in his hand, in discussion with Aviemore’s blacksmith, Finlay, about the possibility of fashioning a handle that was made specifically for his hand. She’d not have interrupted, save the smithy saw her coming, and offered a respectful, if awkward, bow when she reached Callum’s side. The smithy was stocky, his skin pocked and freckled and aged, but his eyes were kind, Ada decided.

  “Good day, sir. Please do not trouble yourself to bow every time I come near. It makes me feel as if I haven’t dressed properly for the occasion.” She glanced down at her plain brown kirtle, then back up at Finlay, giving him a winning smile. To Callum, she said, “I won’t keep you from your business. I wanted only to thank you for what you did. You agreed to champion my cause before you’d heard what it was. I appreciate that very much, sir.”

  Callum accepted the gratitude with a tip of his head. “I’d no been thinking you were unlevel in the head, lass. And you dinna strike me as the irrational sort—I’ve ken plenty of them over the years.”

  “Thank you.”

  Callum lifted a brow, bending his head toward her. “I’ll no take up every cause, my lady. No if I believe it untoward or undeserved. But Baldwin’s had it coming, and we’re none the worse, aye?”

  Ada nodded and turned at the sound of a rider coming through the gates.

  “I wondered how long it would be until he found out.”

  Jamie came, and brought with him an unreadable expression, though well his gaze was trained on her.

  Any nervousness she might have felt at having to explain herself to her husband was quickly replaced by what the sight of him did to her. Truly, he was magnificent upon the black destrier. The warm summer sun glinted off what little was left of the blond in his hair. Ada liked his shorn locks so much better, save that the blond was gone with the length, showing mostly just a very light brown, several shades lighter than the stubble that adorned his cheeks and jaw.

  Under the metal and leather breastplate, he wore only a sleeveless tunic, which put on great display his thick and muscled arms. He reined in, bringing the huge beast to a stop close to Ada, those muscles in his arms shifting and moving with every motion, putting Ada in mind of being wrapped up in his embrace.

  He dismounted and strode purposefully toward her, forcing Ada to leave off admiring his body and instead, consider his mood. The dark blue eyes held hers intently.

  “The keep is large, lass, but no so big I don’t hear tales. And just a few minutes ago, I heard some fantastic story about the lady of the keep sending her own cook packing.”

  She bit her lip. He didn’t necessarily seem displeased. But he didn’t necessarily not seem displeased. “I did.” Only a light hesitation weakened her words. With greater firmness—very difficult to achieve when he now stood so close, and his lips were so tempting—she added, “And I will not allow it to be undone.”

  “Fair, but firm, aye?”

  “You gave me leave to—”

  “I did no give you leave to sack the cook!”

  He was definitely angry.

  Ada remained stalwart, defending her decision. “You did, actually. I specifically asked if I might make changes that were for the betterment of Aviemore.”

  Callum, standing close, made to speak up, likely in Ada’s defense.

  “No, Callum. My husband needs to trust my judgment.” Jamie lifted a brow at her. “Otherwise, he insinuates that at best, I am not fit to manage the keep, and at worst, that I am no more than an idiot.”

  Jamie stared hard at her, trying to read her, she guessed.

  “And you believe it was better for Aviemore to have no cook?”

  She sensed his lessening fury. And she liked the way his mouth moved when he spoke, liked to see his lips shaping and forming around his words.

  “We...do have a cook. Her name is Joanna.”

  To his credit, he challenged her no more. In fact, while he looked rather longingly upon her lips, he invoked a previously used defense when he said, with that beautiful grin of his, “Aye, like as no, I agreed to whatever you asked, only pretended I understood, or even heard. But it’s possible I didn’t hear a thing you said.”

  Ada allowed a small answering grin, but thought to ask, “Perchance, were you too close when you pretended to understand?” She had, after all, begged this boon, only yesterday after they’d made love. “Was it the proximity?”

  “Aye, lass. It was at that.”

  ADA DID NOT SEE JAMIE again that day. Whatever took him off usually in the dark of night had called him earlier. Ada watched him and Callum and several others ride away before the dinner hour. Part of her considered this a blessing, as she hadn’t any idea that Joanna actually could put out a decent meal. But sh
e needn’t have worried, the changeover was seamless, and if any person in the keep hadn’t yet heard the news that Baldwin was no more, they’d not have noticed any difference.

  Ada poked her head into the kitchen after supper to congratulate Joanna, who accepted the praise with a nervous smile and pinkened cheeks. She was kind enough to include all her staff in the accolades.

  While he had departed Aviemore much earlier than normal for whatever took him away, Jamie still did not return until the wee hours of the morning. But Ada woke this time, turned over on the bed at the sound of him relinquishing his sword to its place near the headboard. She stretched with some grogginess, and then found herself more wakeful as Jamie only stood at the side of the bed, looking down at her.

  “Are you angry yet with me, because of Baldwin?”

  He shook his head, his eyes raking over her. “Nae, lass. I’m no angry with you. Dinna ken that I ever was.”

  “Then the brooding stare is...?”

  A short chuckle escaped. “Is me wrestling with the same thing, night after night, wondering how selfish it would be to wake my bride and have my way with her.”

  And now she was fully awake. Every nerve in her body lifted its ear.

  But first she asked, not holding out any hope that he might actually answer, “Where do you go off to for such long periods of time?”

  “About the same business we were on our way to Aviemore,” he said. “Recruiting.”

  “Successfully?”

  He shrugged, and said, “Sometimes,” but his expression told her whatever success he had found was less than what he’d hoped for.