Page 16

A s usual, when Aileana entered the kitchen all conversation ceased.

Looking around, she weighed her options.

She’d decided to begin her new life at Eilean Donan by enlisting some of the women to help her start a collection of herb pots, as she’d used at home.

But she’d need baskets for gathering, and some clean, well-shaped pots in which to store the roots, leaves, and flowers she collected.

Pushing up the sleeves of her tunic, Aileana steeled herself for her first trial and started toward the scullery area. There she approached two women bent over a vat of steaming water, rinsing some of the morning’s breakfast bowls.

“I’ll finish this,” she said firmly as she nudged them aside.

“And while I do, I want you to find me eight or ten small clay pots, preferably with lids. You know better than I where they’re kept.

Just stack them at the end of the courtyard.

” Aileana plunged her arms into the warm water and began to scrape and rub the bowls with a handful of scouring twigs from the bottom of the vat.

“Oh, and find a few baskets as well. I’ll be foraging in the wood later today. ”

Dead silence greeted her command. She felt the stare of every person in the kitchen boring into her back. Now was the time to act upon her decision to be authoritative.

What would Bridgid do?

Lifting her arms from the vat with a splash, Aileana whirled to face the women.

“Have I been unclear? It isn’t so hard, I think, and I’d be doing it myself, but I’d be wasting time, not knowing where to look.

” She blew a strand of hair from her face and wiped her brow with her forearm.

The women just continued to stare, though she saw a flicker of suspicion in the younger one’s eyes.

Willing her voice to sound commanding, Aileana scowled.

“It’s very simple. You can do it one of two ways.

Either I’ll follow you to where the pots are stored and leave this mess behind for you to clean when you return, or I can finish the task while you do as I bid.

It’s your choice.” Raising her brows, Aileana waited for a response.

After another tense silence, the younger one snipped, “I’m not doing anything until I talk to Bridgid. I think she’d be interested in knowing about this.”

Aileana pursed her lips. Curses . She’d counted on practicing her authority for a while before she was made to face the master herself. Well, there was nothing to be done about it. She’d have to deal with Bridgid sometime.

Turning back to the bowls, she shrugged. “Do as you wish. But if I don’t have those pots available to me by the time I’m finished washing these, I’m going to rip apart the pantry, the buttery and any other storage place I can see until I find what I need.”

The two women left, and the others in the kitchen slowly resumed their tasks, though Aileana sensed an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before.

She took solace in the methodical work of cleaning the other utensils, biding her time until Bridgid returned with the women.

Firm and in control . She repeated the phrase to herself as she worked.

But she still jumped when the bailie ’s rasping voice cut through the low hum in the kitchen.

“What’s this, missy? Making demands of a sudden are you?”

Aileana turned slowly from the tub. Bridgid looked especially irritated; she’d obviously been pulled away from some hard work.

A faint sheen of perspiration covered her brow, even at this early hour.

As usual, her head cloth was a bit askew and her wiry hair had escaped to frame her face in prickly looking curls.

“I’m not demanding anything,” Aileana answered, proud that her voice never wavered.

“I’m simply trying to accomplish a task.

I need pots for storing my herbs, and I don’t know where to look for them.

” She wiped her hands dry on her tunic and glared piercingly at the two women.

“If it’s that much trouble for them to help me, then I’ll just go ahead and waste the time searching out the pots myself. ”

She started to push by, but Bridgid stopped her. Startled, Aileana looked up and saw a glimmer of interest in the direct gaze that met her own.

“What are you wanting with herbs and such?” But before Aileana could answer, Bridgid’s expression hardened, and she stepped back. “You’re not using them for deviltry, are you? Because if you do the things your cursed sister did, I’ll string you up and light the fire beneath you myself!”

Aileana blanched at Bridigd’s reference to Morgana’s evil; it seemed that her sister had inspired hatred that went deep.

Though it startled her to hear such words spoken, it wasn’t unexpected, she knew.

Even Father had forbidden the mention of Morgana’s name in the years following the Troubles.

And it had been because of her that Aileana had spent so much of her life sheltered in her bedchamber, to prevent any dark forces from influencing her in her possession of the Ealach , as her sister had been swayed.

She shook her head, keeping her gaze fixed on Bridgid. “I swear I’ve never used my knowledge of herbs for evil. In truth I learned the beneficial uses of many flowers, roots, and leaves.”

But Bridgid still stared at her with stern accusation, and Aileana’s temper flared.

It wasn’t right, and she couldn’t accept it—not if she hoped to earn the respect of anyone at Eilean Donan.

Letting her frustration have complete rein, Aileana stood to her full height and added, “More important, though, is this: whatever my sister was or was not in the whole of her life, I am not her. I’ve spent years paying for her sins, and I’ll do it no more.

” Cheeks flushed, she finished with a demand.

“Now for the last time, I’m asking for some help in finding what I need.

If you won’t give it, then get out of my way so I can fetch the blessed pots myself! ”

Everything went deathly still in the aftermath of her outburst, and Aileana had the distinct impression that this was one of the few times Bridgid had ever been rendered speechless. When she finally spoke, there was something in her tone that hadn’t been there before.

“I suppose there isn’t anything wrong in your gathering herbs for storing.

We can use them for cooking, as well as for illness.

” She seemed to consider Aileana for a moment more, studying her with her gaze before finally nodding.

“Very well. You can pick what you like to put away, but not until after the noon meal. Ella and Mab…they’ll lead you now to the storerooms and help you find some pots.

Get on with you then,” she sputtered, before flapping out of the kitchen to harp at some other unfortunate worker.

The younger of the two women looked pale, and her eyes widened fearfully as she took in Aileana from head to toe. Then she and Mab left the kitchen, heads tilted together as they whispered, likely about her, she knew, from the sidelong glances they kept giving her.

“The pots are stored in there,” Mab said, once they’d crossed the center yard.

She waved in the general direction of a little wooden door; it seemed to lead to a room that had been added to the castle in more recent times.

The stones of these walls looked newer compared to the more ravaged parts of the fortress.

Aileana nodded acknowledgement, and the women scurried away.

She hardly noticed their condemning looks for the swell of excitement that bloomed in her breast as she pushed open the door to the cool, dark storage chamber.

Rows of little earthen pots lined the shelves—a veritable treasure trove of them.

The floor was full as well, the rest of the chamber scattered with several barrels and a few large crates that rested in a random pattern atop soft cushions of hay.

Stepping over them, she examined some of the pots on the shelf. But as she lifted lids to examine the ancient remnants of their contents, her gaze kept straying to the crates. They were large and finely built. Not the kind of boxes she would have expected to find in such a place.

Finally, she could resist her curiosity no longer. Picking her way back to them, she knelt beside the largest of the crates and pulled at its lid. To her surprise, it slid off easily. It was clear that someone had opened it recently, and it looked as though that person had taken great care with it.

She shifted to let the light from the door come in, feeling a thrill of surprise at what she saw.

Yards of glossy satin lay coiled inside the box; spun of deep green, it shimmered even in the dim light, and she reached out to touch the buttery-soft material with reverence.

But as her fingers brushed over the silk, she felt something hard.

Something buried beneath the folds of fabric.

Gently, Aileana moved the soft material to see what lay beneath.

A gasp of wonder escaped her. There, in perfect condition, rested a harp of exquisite workmanship and beauty.

Its lines were long and elegant, and it was formed of wood that had been polished many times by loving hands.

Wood that glowed mellow against the detailed golden comb and tuning pins that held the strings in place.

As fine an instrument as this must be worth a small fortune, she thought absently.

She let her fingers drift along the massive, carved circle that formed its base, then up along the beautiful, sloping neck, and to the strings.

At her touch, a delicate vibration filled the chamber with the richness of angel-song.

She was so lost in the melodious sound that she almost didn’t notice the shadow edging closer to the doorway.

But then it shifted, plunging the room into darkness.