Page 26 of Highlander's Secret Heiress
One morning that week, the cook, Mairi, was absent because of an urgent family emergency, and Maisie had decided that it was as good a time as any to teach Alyth some basic cooking skills. Accordingly, she summoned her into the kitchen, gave her an apron, and said, “I dinnae suppose ye have ever learned tae bake bread, hen?” Her tone was mischievous.
Alyth laughed. “It’s really not one of those skills ladies’ maids are taught,” she replied. “But I would love to learn. I would findit very useful, I think. Who knows, I might marry a farmer some day?” She looked at Maisie with an expression that said this was a very distant possibility.
Maisie laughed. “I cannae see ye as a farmer’s wife, hen,” she said. “Somehow I dinnae think ye would know one end o’ a sheep fae the other.”
“You’re right, Maisie!” Alyth agreed. “But I would love to impress whoever I marry with my baking skills. Tell me, what kind of cake does the Laird like best—not that I’m going to marry him, of course.” She shook her head and flapped her hand with a dismissive gesture.
Maisie laughed. “Well, that’s easy enough!” she replied. “He absolutely loves clootie dumpling. He could live on the stuff. On the other hand, if ye really want tae turn his stomach, ye can try black puddin’. He hates it wi’ an absolute passion!”
Alyth laughed. “I completely agree with him.” She shuddered in disgust. “I can’t stand it either!”
Alyth paid attention as Maisie showed her how to roll out the dough and knead it; she loved the feel of it, soft and yielding under the pressure of her hands as it oozed between her fingers.
“I have heard that there was a lot of trouble here a while ago between the Carricks and the MacAdams,” Alyth said thoughtfully as Maisie took the dough away from her and set it aside to rest for a while. “What happened?”
“It is a very long story, hen.” Maisie replied, sighing. “An’ a very sad one. The MacAdams an’ the Carricks have had a feud that goes back for a long time, but sometimes it calms down an’ sometimes it flares up again. Everybody on both sides suffers when a fight breaks out, an’ naebody ever wins.” She looked sad, then she began to tell Alyth the story.
“Laird Bearnard Carrick, the present Laird’s father, was a very good businessman. He brought in a lot o’ French an’ Spanish wine an’ sold it here in Scotland, an’ he sold the whiskywe make here tae the French. He sold salmon an’ animal hides an’ coal—tons o’ it. He made the clan very rich, but when he died an’ young Lachlan took over—well! The trade just got better an’ better, an’ the family got richer an’ richer. Well, as ye can imagine, hen, everybody wanted tae be his friend—or nearly everybody.
There were people comin’ fae as far away as Edinburgh that wanted tae trade wi’ him, clans comin’ wantin’ alliances, it was the best time we ever had here.” Maisie sighed, and began to wash the flour from her hands; her eyes became dreamy as she looked back into the past.
“Only two clans werenae very friendly,” she went on.
“Let me guess,” Alyth said grimly. “The MacAdams and the Robertsons? I gathered as much from listening to the girls at breakfast.”
Maisie gave a short, cynical laugh. “Aye,” she replied, with a ferocious frown. Alyth had never seen her look so angry. “They were only interested in tradin’ weapons, an’ our young Laird isnae interested in makin’ war. He is a peacemaker an’ that is tae his credit.” She paused for a moment, thinking, before she went on.
“He told them he wasnae lookin’ tae buy weapons an’ sent them away.” Maisie looked extremely troubled.
Alyth waited a moment before she asked, “What happened then?”
Maisie made a sound that was almost a growl. “We heard that some MacAdams men had come an’ invaded our borders an’ killed some o’ the villagers in Leithmuir.” Her face took on a thunderous look. “When the Laird went tae avenge their death he took quite a few o’ the garrison wi’ him, an’ while he was away some o’ the MacAdams lot got intae the castle. They killed Lady Sandrina in front o’ the wee lassie—shot her in cold bloodin front o’ wee Davina while she was defendin’ her daughter. If I had been there, I would have killed that murderer myself!”
Again she paused, leaning on the flour-covered table and taking deep breaths in order to calm down.
“I am sorry to have upset you, Mistress Maisie,” Alyth said softly. “I had no idea about all this. It was just that the other day at breakfast, Alison and Catriona were talking about it, and they seemed so angry.”
Maisie patted her shoulder and gave Alyth a sad smile. “When they heard that Lady MacAdams had been killed as well, the two Lairds decided tae stop fightin’ wi’ each other because they had both lost somebody they loved.”
“So there is peace now?” Alyth asked. “The war between the two families is over?”
Maisie shook her head. “I wish it was, but we a’ think it is just a truce,” she answered. “Most o’ us think it is only a matter o’ time before a’ the fightin’ starts again.”
Alyth’s heart plummeted, then she rallied, having thought of a way to turn the situation to her advantage. “Maybe things will not be so bad,” she remarked. “I know that sometimes when I think nothing can be any worse, something happens to prove me wrong. Look at the night I came here; I thought I was going to die in the cold and wet weather of that horrible evening, yet here I am, happy and well. I was taken in by good people who treated me—and are still treating me—with great kindness. And you, Mistress Maisie, if you had not taken me in I would be dead, and nobody would even know about it. So you see, there is always hope, or at least that is what I believe.”
A slow, warm smile spread over Maisie’s face. “Ye give me too much credit, hen,” she told Alyth. “But ye are right. We must always hope for the best, or we would a’ be miserable, would we no’?”
Alyth nodded, pretending to be happy. Yet, she knew that when she finally managed to leave, her name would be mud. All her fellow maids would be disgusted with her, as well as outraged. They would think she had used them, which, in fact, she had.
Then, of course, there was Davina—and now Lachlan. Davina would be devastated. She had lost her mother, and while Alyth could never compare herself in any way to the woman who had given birth to the little girl, she knew that Davina was fond of her.
Alyth knew what loss was like; she had experienced it herself, and felt it now as she recalled the day when her father had come to tell her how her mother had been tossed over the curtain wall of Cairnloch Castle. It had cut as keenly as a knife, and she had never really recovered from that loss.
She knew that she would keenly miss Davina, with her flowing red hair and eyes that were just like her father’s, her innocent smile and mischievous mannerisms.
And then there was Lachlan, whose body she had just enjoyed with more pleasure than she could ever remember having with any other experience in her life. She doubted that he would be sorry to see her go. No, he would be absolutely incandescent with rage, knowing that he had been used, and that his enemy had bested him with the utmost courage and cunning.
As well as that, Alyth’s feelings about him were a tangle of confusion. Did she love him? She had no idea, but as well as the physical sensations he had aroused in her, there was the complicated matter of her heart.
