Page 42 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Another haphazard piece of apple peel slipped off the edge of the knife and flopped limply to the table. Lydia sighed at it. She had offered to peel apples for the cook, since Laird Ranald had yet to summon her for his morning meal and Evelyn and Corvin had no tasks for her. Unfortunately, her efforts were slow, clumsy, and a mere shadow of what they should be.
She tried again, with no more success, grimacing as the small blade the cook had given her slipped off the side of the apple once more. Either the knife slid too deep and cut away good parts of the apple, or the cut was too shallow and the knife skipped off the curve. Twice, she’d nearly cut her own fingers and palms.
How do the maids manage to make this look so easy?
“Ye’re hard at work - an’ yer knife work is poor as ever. Evelyn will scold ye if ye show such skills in her trainin’.” Lydia jumped at the sound of a familiar voice, then huffed in exasperation.
“My laird, if you wished for your morning meal, you had only to send for me, and I would have been happy to bring you a tray.”
“Nay need. I came down tae see if Alex had returned, an’ decided I wanted somethin’ from the kitchens.” Laird Ranald thumped onto the bench beside her and took the knife and apple from her hands. He tsked. “Ye’ve mangled this right properly.”
Lydia sighed. “I fear there is some trick to turning the apple and angling the knife that I have not yet managed to glean.”
“Ye guide it with yer thumb. Like this.” Laird Ranald selected an undamaged apple from the basket and positioned the knife on the top edge. “Here. See? Put yer thumb where ye want the knife tae go, then ye slide the blade into the skin, just lightly, like this. Then pull the knife lightly toward yer thumb. And then, with yer other thumb an’ fingers, ye dae this.” He lifted his hand to show her.
“Oh, it is like twisting a spindle or a skein of yarn by hand.” Lydia felt a pleased burst of comprehension. “I see. I hadn’t realized it was so simple.”
“Still takes practice tae keep from cutting yer fingers. Take it slow until ye’re sure ye’ve the knack.” Laird Ranald finished with the apple, and held the handle of the knife out for her to take.
Lydia took it gingerly, holding it as she’d been shown, then picked up another apple. She tried to position it properly for peeling, but it slipped from her fingers, bounced on the table, then fell and rolled underneath.
Lydia bent to retrieve it. She didn’t realize that Laird Ranald had done the same until her head cracked painfully against his. “Ouch!”
Laird Ranald grunted and jolted backward. “Och, ye’ve a solid skull, though ye look as if a strong wind might blow ye away some days.”
Together, the two of them clambered out from under the table, with Lydia holding the apple awkwardly in one hand. The two of them stared at it, for a moment, then Lydia slowly raised her eyes to meet Laird Ranald’s, just his eyes moved to meet hers.
Something tickled in the back of Lydia’s throat, tingling in her chest until it burst forth. Laughter, such as she hadn’t expressed in quite some time. She tried to stifle it, uncertain whether it was acceptable for a maid to laugh at her laird, but it refused to be smothered.
A moment later, Laird Ranald chuckled, a low, rich sound that filled her with warmth. Lydia gave in, letting her own merriment burst forth in small giggles, then full-fledged laughter that went ringing through the kitchen.
The two of them snickered in shared amusement for several moments, until finally their amusement tapered off. By that time, Lydia was nearly breathless, her ribs aching slightly from the unaccustomed amusement. “Oh, I am sorry…”
“Naethin’ tae be sorry fer, lass. Ye’ve a lovely laugh - ye should voice it more often.”
“Thank ye, my laird.” Lydia smiled, then set the apple on the table and reached for the bowl that held the apples she’d managed to peel and slice thus far. “Shall I make ye some porridge with apples an’ honey?”
“That sounds fair wonderful. I wouldnae mind a bowl myself.” A cheerful voice at the doorway made them both look up to see Laird MacEwen lounging against the frame, looking tired but amused. “I just arrived. I was plannin’ tae see if ye were in need o’ rousin, but then I heard laughter here, an’ came to look.”
As he strode into the kitchen, Lydia thought she heard Laird Ranald give a soft sigh. She had no idea if she’d heard correctly, however, because the next moment he had risen and moved to clasp Laird MacEwen in a rough embrace. “’Tis good tae see ye again. How was yer business?”
“Much the same. Didnae even have tae head home,” Laird MacEwen shrugged his shoulders. ‘But I see tha’ things have changed some here.” His gaze slid across Laird Ranald’s shoulder as he winked at Lydia. “’Tis been a while since I’ve seen ye so amused.”
