At the very end of the hallway, Patrice took the torch, opened a door and stepped in. Leona followed behind her.
Once inside, Patrice found candles and began lighting them. As the room began to fill with light, Leona’s spirits lifted.
The space was filled with all manner of furnishings, tapestries, and trunks. Along one wall was a bank of shelves that ran from the floor almost to the ceiling. “Here,” Patrice said as she stepped toward it. “Enough sheets and bed clothes to see ye through ten winters!”
Leona was heady with glee. If it remained just she and Alec in this large keep, then, aye, Patrice was correct. ‘Twould be a long time before she had to wash bedclothes.
“Thank God!” she exclaimed. “Och! Patrice, I thank ye kindly!”
Patrice beamed with pride. “Would ye like to take some of these things below stairs and start makin’ this keep a home again?”
“I be sorely tempted,” she said. “But I fear ‘twould send Alec into an apoplexy.”
Nay, if she were to do this, she’d do it one tiny step at a time. A tapestry here, a chair there, but slowly and gradually so as to keep peace between them.
Chapter 11
Patrice had offered to stay to help, but explained that her mother had not been well. Still, Leona thought it awfully kind of her to offer. She left with the promise of returning on the morrow. With Patrice gone, Leona returned to her bedchamber with an arm full of clean sheets and linens. She stored them in a trunk in the corner of their room.
After the room was as tidy as she could get it without scrubbing it from top to bottom, she returned to the kitchens. The stew was still simmering nicely, the tarts just where she had left them. ‘Twould not be long before Alec would return and she wanted to make certain he had clean washing and drying cloths, as well as clothes to wear.
In her explorations of the keep and kitchens, she had discovered a tub in one of the empty rooms above stairs. What a luxury ‘twould be to have a nice, hot bath instead of bathing in the loch.
So back above stairs she went, and back to the room Patrice had shown her. She had to remove a few chairs, one trunk, and a few small tables in order to make a path for retrieving the tub. That was much easier than actually moving the tub.
It did not budge. Not even after she put her hip into it. The base kept getting caught on the uneven floorboards. ’Twas more awkward and bulky than ’twas heavy. Not wanting to cause any further damage to the floors, she grabbed a soft sheet, unfurled it and spread it on the floor. Lifting each corner of the tub, then tugging the sheet under it, she soon had it where she wanted it.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed under her breath as she tugged on the sheet with all her might.
’Twas a battle, but one she was fully prepared to win. Determined now, more than ever, to have a hot bath, she finally got the tub to move.
She had to stop twice to catch her breath, and it did take a good deal of effort and a fair amount of cursing, but she finally got the unyielding beast into their room. She was glad Alec was not inside for she didn’t want him to know she knew those particular words. Giggling, she immediately thought of Rose. It had been she from whom she learned them.
With the tub positioned at an angle, but near the hearth, she sat down only long enough to catch her breath. “Well, I will need a bit more than two buckets of water,” she told herself. “I truly wish someone would invent a way to get water into a tub without hauling buckets above stairs.”
‘Twould have been quite easy to fall asleep sitting up. If she didn’t have a pot of stew cooking, she might very well have done just that.
With a tired sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and headed back to her kitchens to grab more water. Before Alec returned, she had hauled eight additional buckets of water above stairs to warm by the fire. Her hands and back ached and she was getting blisters on her fingers. But the thought of sitting in a nice hot bath until her skin turned wrinkly kept her moving.
“I do no’ think I’ll be doin’ this every day. Mayhap Alec will help me with carryin’ the water tomorrow.”
She poured six buckets into the tub and set the other two to warm by the fire. Digging through her trunk she found a jar of clean smelling soap and set it on the chair by the tub. Excitement began to swell with the anticipation of climbing in.
Remembering she needed clean cloths, she returned to what she was now calling the linen room. She grabbed a few washing and drying cloths, blew out the candles, and left.
She all but skipped down the corridor to return to her awaiting bit of heaven on earth. Humming a happy tune, she entered her bedchamber. Much to her chagrin, Alec was there.
And he was stripping off his clothes.
When he saw her, his smile was enough to make her heart skip a beat. But what he said and did next was enough to make her want to scream and throw the chamber pot at him.
“Och! Lass!” he exclaimed happily as he climbed into the tub. No, not the tub, but her tub. Her hot water. Her bit of heaven on earth. “I can no’ tell ye how glad I am fer a hot bath.”
Oh, I can imagine, she mused angrily.
He sighed happily as he sat back and let the water surround him.
’Twas enough to make her want to cry.
“Every muscle in me body aches. I did no’ think farmin’ would be so difficult, but it is.” He sat up and searched for the soap. Finding it on the chair, he looked up at her with a smile. “Do ye have a washin’ cloth?” he asked with a nod toward the linens she was holding.
She counted to fifty before walking toward him for fear she’d be tempted to hold his head under the water. Without speaking, she handed him a cloth.
He took it, but did not immediately let go of her hand. “Leona, I be truly grateful fer ye thinkin’ of me like this. ’Twas a nice surprise. I came in to get clean clothes before headin’ to the loch and when I saw this, well…” he paused, as he smiled up at her with such warmth and gratitude it nearly made her heart burst with joy. “I be verra grateful to ye.”
She could not remain angry with him. As far as she knew, a Bowie rarely, if ever, said thank you. To have Alec express his gratitude so sweetly meant the world to her.
It had been a very long day and he had worked all afternoon in the fields. His brow was covered in perspiration, his hands and arms filthy.
“I be glad ye are pleased,” she told him, her anger gone.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before turning his attention back to bathing. “I came in through the kitchens looking fer ye. The stew and the tarts smell right good. Me stomach is growlin’ somethin’ fierce.”
Hot, sweaty, and hungry. She reckoned it would be like this for some time to come and she should start getting used to it.
“Thank ye. I shall have it set out fer ye when ye come below stairs,” she told him. And with that, she turned and left her husband to enjoy his bath.
Thankfully, Kyth and Gylys arrived early enough to help her set the table. They were all too happy to help, considering they were going to partake in a free meal, and one not cooked by Derrick.
She had washed up in the kitchens as best she could. On the morrow, she promised herself, ’twill be I who enjoys the hot bath.
Leona was quite proud of the meal she had prepared for her husband. Rabbit stew, bread, berry tarts. ’Twas by no means a feast but she was hopeful that he would be happy with it just the same.
Alec came bounding down the stairs just as Leona set the heavy pot of stew in the center of the table. Curiously, he looked at Kyth and Gylys who were looking like young boys about to devour an endless supply of sweet cakes.
“Lads,” he said as he approached the table slowly.
“Good eve, to ye, Alec,” Kyth said.
“Yer bonny wife here invited us to sup with ye,” Gylys explained as he eyed the pot of stew.
Alec was torn between wanting to have a quiet meal with his wife and not wanting to have a quiet meal with his wife. A good part of him wanted to eat quickly, then whisk
her above stairs where he would make love to her for the next few hours. Another part of him worried that he was beginning to lose himself in her. And that would serve no good purpose.
The hot bath had done wonders to lift his spirits and reenergize him. Deciding he could have a pleasant evening with his men and take his wife above stairs, he smiled at them. “Then let us sup together, aye?” he said with a smile.
Looking forward to eating, he took his seat at the head of the table. “Pass me that stew, lads!”
Leona was at the other end of the table, standing next to her seat. Waiting. Waiting for her husband to pull out her chair. Waiting to hear a kind ‘thank ye’ for all her hard work.
And she waited.
While the men were happily ladling stew into their bowls.
She cleared her throat once. No one took notice. She cleared it again.
Alec looked up at her from his end of the table and smiled. “Sit, lass.”
Och! The Bowie men have a lot to learn, they do! She thought as she pulled her own chair out and sat. Ian always pulls Rose’s chair out fer her. Men do that, ye mannerless louts! ’Tis just a sign of respect and kindness.
What was she thinking? These were Bowie men. She seriously doubted they worried about manners.
“Would ye like some stew m’lady?” Kyth asked as he lifted a ladle out of the pot and plopped it into her bowl. The thick liquid splattered hither and yon. Only a small mess, but a mess she would have to clean.
Gylys tore off a chunk of bread and handed it to her.
Alec poured ale into his cup before handing it off to Kyth, who filled his cup and passed it to Leona.
Bread crumbs were falling here and there, ale sloshing and splashing over everything. Had these men never sat at a table before?
Even her own father, the cruel man that he was, possessed more manners than the men sitting at her table. Taking a deep breath, she decided to push it all aside and enjoy a fine meal.
Alec and Kyth had not waited until everyone had what they needed before digging in.
A moment later, with horrified expressions upon their faces, they were spitting the stew out.
“Gah!” Kyth declared.
“Good, God!” Alec exclaimed.
Gylys and Leona stared at the two men in wide-eyed confusion. Leona’s heart began to sink. She’d made rabbit stew hundreds of times. No one had ever complained and certainly no one had ever spit it out!
“What be wrong?” she stammered. The men were too busy wiping their tongues and gulping down ale to answer. She dipped her finger into the stew for a taste.
’Twas as if someone had dumped a pound of salt into it. Wincing, she took a sip of ale to wash the taste out. What in the world? She stammered and fought for words. “I, I do no’ ken what happened.”
The men were staring at her, awash in uncertainty and pity. “I do no’ ken what happened,” she repeated. “I have made rabbit stew hundreds of times.” It made no sense.
Quickly, she scooted away from the table, angry and humiliated. Without a word, she grabbed the pot and began to head toward the kitchen. “This makes no sense,” she mumbled to herself.
Alec was behind her. “’Tis all right, lass. No one is a good cook on their first attempt.”
“I told ye, I have made rabbit stew before,” she shot at him over her shoulder. Stomping across the small yard, she flung open the door to the kitchen. Without a doubt she knew that her stew had been sabotaged. There was no way she would have added that much salt by accident.
Once inside, she slammed the pot down on the table nearest the door. Alec stepped in. “’Twas a simple accident,” he said in a calm voice. “It could happen to anyone.”
Spinning around angrily, she said, “Nay! ’Twas no’ an accident. I did no’ do this.”
“We can have bread and cheese this night,” he said, trying his best to comfort her.
She was about to give him a verbal assault when she caught sight of something over the hearth.
Her salt box.
’Twas laying on its side, as if it had been tipped over. “What on earth,” she whispered as she crossed the small space.
“What is it?” Alec asked.
“The salt box,” she said as she reached for it. “Someone has emptied nearly all of it, and they emptied it into me stew.” Who could be so cruel? Who would be so wasteful?
“I’ll send Gylys and Kyth to the village on the morrow to get ye more,” Alec said as he took the empty box and inspected it.
“Who would do this?” she asked.
Alec scratched the back of his neck, confused and doubtful. “Could it have been an accident?”
“Nay!” she exclaimed. “I do no’ keep me salt over the hearth. I keep it on the counter over there.” She gave a nod toward the counter where the rest of her spices sat. Jars of varying sizes were lined neatly against the wall, out of sunlight and away from water. “I would no’ be so careless.”
Alec studied her closely for a long moment. “Are ye suggestin’ someone did this on purpose?” he asked.
Finally, he understood.
“Aye, I be suggestin’ just that.”
Alec wanted very much to believe her, but ’twas difficult. Who amongst his people would do such a thing? Considering the less than warm greeting she was given by his people that morn, the list of suspects was quite long.
The cold manner in which his women folk had greeted his wife had not gone unnoticed. He had decided not to intervene nor mention it, believing it would be best to let things progress naturally. Was it not best to let his people come to know his wife, to see that she meant them no ill-will or harm?
“Mayhap ’twas meant as a jest,” he said.
“A jest?” She looked utterly appalled by the idea. “To ruin food? To be so wasteful?” To humiliate me? “I be sorry if I do no’ find the humor in it.”
He let out a heavy breath as a thought occurred to him. “Mayhap ’twas no’ meant as a jest, but as a way to test ye?”
She returned his question with a raised and dubious brow.
“The Bowie people are no’ like the McLarens,” he said.
She snorted in agreement. “They be like no one else.”
“In order fer them to accept ye, they will need to ken ye are no’ some weak woman prone to tears. They want to ken ye be a good, strong woman.”
“So they waste food and salt to see how I will respond?” She sounded very doubtful.
Alec smiled at her. “I ken it makes no sense, but the Bowie people are no’ exactly known fer logic.”
With that, she had to agree.
Kyth and Gylys appeared at the door just then. “Alec?” Gylys said in a low and soft tone. “We be goin’ to the armory to sup.”
Alec gave a nod of understanding.
“We be right sorry, mistress,” Kyth said. Leaving no time for a response, the two men turned away and left.
“’Twas humiliatin’,” Leona said on the verge of tears. “I wanted verra much to impress ye, and fer some reason, them.”
Alec placed the nearly empty box on the table beside them. “Ye already have, lass.”
Her brow furrowed, a blend of confusion and disbelief. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and hugged her. “Would ye feel better if I had locks installed on the doors?”
She nodded against his chest. “Aye, I would.”
“Good. On the morrow, I shall have Seamus make new locks and keys that only ye shall have.”
“Thank ye, Alec.”
Rubbing a hand along her back, he said, “Now, what shall we eat this night?”
Chapter 12
I see the way he looks at her. He loves her. Already!
And what is all this nonsense about peace? We be Bowies, fer the sake of Christ! We have no’ ever kent peace. We be no’ some band of holy men and women, who’s only purpose in life is to serve God and mankind. Nay, we take what we want and when we want it. We be a ruthless, bloodthirsty lot of bloody sons of whores. Or
at least we used to be.
Somethin’ in Alec has changed. He’s gone soft. He wants us all to change, to become the same mealy mouthed, soft-hearted, ignorant fool he has turned out to be. And he wants to take the Bowies with him. And that idiot Dougall is standin’ right beside him.
To hell with Alec Bowie. To hell with Dougall and all the others who follow them.
Alec will soon regret his feelings for her. I’ll make sure of it. The bloody fool!
I can no’ allow it. I made a promise to Rutger, months ago when he lay dead on the floor of the stables. All mangled and bloody, with his eyes still open, even though he was dead. I made him a promise that day.
I will do whatever I must to see his dream come to fruition. The Bowie clan will rise again. Stronger, more powerful, more ruthless than any clan ever to grace the lands of Scotia. I will kill Ian Mackintosh fer takin’ his life.
But first, I must kill Alec’s precious wife.
I have no other choice.
Chapter 13
The following morning dawned bleak and dreary. Rain fell in great waves, making Leona’s morning ritual of going to the kitchens at the crack of dawn less than enjoyable. It did not help that she still ached from all her hard work the day before. It also did not help that she was still upset about the person who sabotaged her rabbit stew. The weather matched her mood.
Water seeped into her shoes as she quickly crossed the yard. ’Twas not a great distance, but in inclement weather such as this, it was far less enjoyable.
Once inside the cold and dark space, Leona hung her damp cloak on a hook, lit candles and torches before making a fire. Soon, the fire took away some of the chill, but not all. With her shoes and woolens quite damp, she shuddered. Quickly, she removed her shoes and set them on the hearth, then her woolens. The stone floor was cold enough to make her shriek. Quickly, she made for the table, sat, and pulled her knees up to her chest.
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 14