Page 36 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

Inciting Desire

T he inside of Montgomery Castle was no less grand than the outside.

If Amelia had hoped the inside would be any smaller than it looked, those ideations were crushed under the imposing stone walls and high ceilings.

There were many windows, which would let in the sunshine if there had been any to let in that afternoon.

“Follow me,” the Laird demanded.

Amelia followed, looking around her in awe.

If the wealthiest of homes had managed to keep her busy, this castle would work her to death.

There had to be more people around to help her, but based on the dust on the windowsills, she doubted there were many people at all.

She had yet to even see another woman in the castle.

She trotted after the Laird, his large and long legs taking one gigantic step at a time, without any regard to her shorter stature.

One step for him was a running jump for her to cross the same distance, and it wasn’t exactly ladylike to go running or jumping around like a toad after a Laird.

So, she simply tried to keep up with a brisk walking pace.

There were once-beautiful tapestries that hung on the walls, breaking the stream of windows with a methodic rhythm as they lay between one window and the next.

Amelia wondered what it would take to bring some of the shine and vibrancy of the colors back to the tapestries, or if perhaps there was a master weaver nearby that could be brought in to work on a small section at a time.

She followed Jon through the hallways, trying to memorize the twists and turns of the castle.

But it was no use, she was hopelessly lost already.

They reached a small staircase leading up, and she followed him as he scaled them two at a time with a lifelong, practiced ease.

Amelia, of course, had to take the steps one-by-one, which caused the Laird to have to wait at the top.

And when she joined him there, he looked rather annoyed at having to wait.

“Aye, ye are tall for a woman and cannae keep up?” he smirked.

“My apologies, my Laird, that the Heavens did not endow me with legs like birch trees like they have done with you,” she shot back wryly.

He seemed a little shocked at her words, and Amelia mentally scolded herself.

He’s the Laird and your boss! , her brain screamed in reprimand.

But she was too exhausted from the travel and the seemingly never-ending staircase, so it seemed that her irritability was at least a little warranted.

His eyes lit with a playfulness at her reply, as if egging her on would now become a new infuriating pastime for him.

They continued down the hall, the light fading as they went down the way, doors lining both sides.

The servants wing , she thought, somewhat disheartened at its resemblance to what she imagined the cells in the dungeon looked.

Except these rooms had wooden doors, not iron bars.

He stopped at one of the last doors, his hand resting on the handle.

“This will be yer room,” he introduced.

Jon opened the door, the hinges letting out a cry of protest that only came with infrequent use.

The room was revealed to her, and she stepped in cautiously.

It was a quaint space, with nothing more than a small private room and the accompanying bath.

She didn’t expect much more, given her status, but it was clear that the bed dressings hadn’t been laundered in some time.

Which, that would only take her an hour to remedy.

There was a plush-looking chair by the window, and Amelia figured that there would be a cloud of dust that would arise if she sat in it.

But that wouldn’t be too terribly hard to clean either.

And the window was perfect for small tasks such as shaking out pillows.

There was at least a little hope that she could make herself comfortable here.

Besides, if things were always as clean as she would like them, Amelia would be out of a job.

“Ye will start in the kitchen,” Jon said rather lazily from the doorway. “Yer things will be brought up here by the time dinner is over.”

Amelia nodded kindly to him, worried that if she opened her mouth, she might get fired on the first day.

And anyways, she already had a plan in mind for going about cleaning her own space.

She gave one last parting glance to her rooms, walking over to the door to follow him to begin the tour of Montgomery Castle.

And she was excited to start with the kitchens.

There was something about the kitchens that were the heart of any household.

Amelia loved the kitchens, and she remembered childhood days when she would be with her grandmaither in that room.

Gloomy days like this would call for soup, or sunny days would have lemon bars.

There was always something to eat when her grandmaither was around.

Jon led her back down the long, barely lit hallway. The way down the stairs was way easier than the trek up had been. Soon, they were back into the main hallway with all the tapestries and windows. The sun shone weakly through the clouds, washing the hallway in a pale grey light.

Try as she might, Amelia could not have told left from right as Jon led her through the castle.

They passed by various rooms, one which was a dining hall.

Another had the door shut, but she heard a murmur of male voices from the other side.

A study, perhaps , she thought. A grand room that could hold a celebration or a ball, if the Scottish had an equivalent to the season like the ton had.

However, there was no library. At least, not one on the way to the kitchens that she had seen.

That had stung more than Amelia cared to admit, but she was sure there had to be one somewhere.

The Laird was clearly educated, and to be educated, a pupil needed books.

Perhaps later in the tour, she would get a peek at the library.

Jon paused in the door of the kitchens, and Amelia almost ran into him given that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going as she took in this area of Montgomery Castle.

It was a vast space in general, save for the servants’ quarters that she had seen, so she hoped the kitchen would lean more to being like the former rather than the latter.

“Aye, here is the kitchens,” Jon started blandly. “This is probably where ye will be spendin’ the most time.”

“I hope the food is not as bland as your tone,” Amelia mused before she could stop herself.

She blushed at her rebuttal, but Jon just smirked at her.

It was like he enjoyed her witty remarks, despite their insulting nature.

But he raised no hand to strike her, nor scolded her rashly.

His eyes were glowing with a playful pull, and she had to duck away from his lingering stare.

She peered around his hulking frame, looking into the kitchens.

Amelia was relieved to see that the kitchens were anything but modest in size.

Jon led her into the room, where it was just the two of them.

Amelia wasn’t sure if it was the kitchen or the fact they were alone, but there was a strange energy and tension between them that wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

But there was something intimate about the kitchen—the connection between two people over a shared meal.

And Amelia was feeling as if the entire world had shrunk to be just the kitchen.

Which, needless to say, was more than accommodating.

The ceilings arched up high above her head, and there was a door that led presumably to a cellar of sorts for meats and wine.

But the space itself was large too, with ample workspace for preparing food.

This was truly the heart of Montgomery Castle.

And if she wanted to mend her already fractured relationship with the Laird, food would be necessary.

“The other staff will show ye the ropes from here,” he shrugged.

Wait, that’s it?! , Amelia thought panicked.

He had only showed her the kitchen and her room.

There was more to this expansive castle that fell under her duty, she was sure of it.

Besides, there was no one else in the kitchen besides the two of them.

She turned to look at him as he went to walk out the door and rushed after him.

Amelia Cooper had a certain elegance about her—the cause of which, Jon could not define.

Her cheekbones were perfectly highlighted every time her face caught the light.

And her long fingers had curled delicately into his hand as he helped her out of the coach.

Her skin had been soft, which had surprised him at first. Her hands had not known the toil of work.

But there was a musculature about them, how her hand seemed to grip him with but the slightest touch.

It sent shivers down his back and heat to his rather prominent member, and it hadn’t seemed to go away even after he dropped her hand.

Jon was attracted to her, sure, but no woman had gotten under his armor so quickly.

Her long blonde hair and brown eyes lent themselves to her look of innocence and youth, though she couldnae be much younger than Jon himself.

She was tall for a woman, only a head or two shorter than him.

And not to mention, slender with only a whisper of curves at her hips.

But it seemed to suit her form and figure, a mixture of harsh lines and soft curves.

As she took in the space, he watched her with an intent curiosity.

There was something in his chest that ached for her, but larger was the anxiety over her well-being in the castle.

Jon sure didn’t mind that she was English—he just hoped the rest of the men, and the staff, didn’t mind either.

She seemed friendly enough however, so there was the likelihood that she would simply blend in with the rest of the staff.