Page 20 of Kilted Hate

It was some time later, when she was dressed in clean dry clothes, that a light knock made her turn toward the door. The door opened, and a young servant girl entered.

“Fer ye, me lady,” she said timidly. She hurried to the dresser, placed the tray down, and hurried away again so quickly, Katherine hardly had a chance to thank her.

When the door closed, she moved across to the tray and gazed at the plate. There before her sat a plate of manchet bread. The bread had been sliced and beside it was a large knob of butter and a small jar of honey and a spoon.

For a long moment, Katherine could only stare at it feeling confusion, surprise, and delight, for her stomach was now complaining loudly given she had hardly eaten a bite since she had arrived.

Why, after humiliating me in such a way, has he now provided me with this meal?

She knew it had come from the laird’s instruction, for while the other’s had been arguing that morning at breakfast, he was the only one who had enquired about her breakfast preferences. All the rest were determined to talk over each other.

But why?

Clearly, he feels guilty… but then again, you did push him to his limits with your words.

“He is a laird,” she finally muttered to herself. “I cannot believe he could lose his temper over anything I have to say. Besides, surely he has heard it all before.”

After his earlier actions, and now his kindness, Katherine was struggling to understand his mixed messages. First he was gruff, then he was kind, then rude again. If he continued in such a manner, she might go mad before the wedding even occurred.

“I will simply go and ask him,” she declared to herself.

But not before she took advantage of the only decent food she had laid her eyes on since being in the castle. Even for her tiny size, she made light work of the bread, butter and honey, and wiping her mouth, so as not to embarrass herself anymore that day, she left her bedchamber in search of the laird.

Enya and Thora had already informed her that his bedchamber was right next door to hers. There was also an adjacent door connecting the two rooms. She was certain that’s how he had entered that morning and read her book. While the sisters had seemed pleased, given it was their idea, Katherine had been appalled at the knowledge that he was so close to her.

Stepping down the corridor, she reached his bedchamber and tapped lightly on the door. It was doubtful he was there, but she had to start somewhere. For all she knew, he could still well be outside sparring with his men.

“Come,” a deep, gruff voice seeped through the wooden barrier that separated them.

“Oh,” Katherine gasped.

Taking a deep breath in, and making certain he would not see her nervousness, she opened the door and strode confidently inside.

“My laird,” she began, eyeing him standing at the window and looking out onto the hills of the glens beyond.

“For the love o’ God, woman, will ye just call me Domhnall,” he growled without turning to face her. “All thisme lairdmalarkey is too much.”

A little taken aback at his abrupt interruption, Katherine stopped in her tracks and lifted a hand to her breast. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?” he pressed, spinning to face her.

His eyes pierced hers as he awaited her reply, and for a second, Katherine found herself floundering.

“Dae ye nae use names in England?” he pressed; his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is it all, me lord this, me lady that?”

“Of course, we do. It’s just… well, we only use them in close familiarity.”

“We’re about tae get married. How much more familiar can ye get?”

Katherine nodded abruptly, for she could hardly argue his point.

“Good,” he replied. “Now I can call ye Katherine instead o’ all this pompous nonsense? So,Katherine. What is it that ye want?”

Looking at him directly, she said, “I wanted to know why you sent manchet bread to my room.”

“Were ye nae hungry?” Domhnall replied.

“Well… yes. I was.”

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