Page 25 of Dark Side of the Laird
I stumbled, jerking forward, but righted myself before I dropped the jars. Cook leapt forward and grabbed one of them from me as I looked down to see what tripped me up. A large piece of cracked pottery. Someone must have dropped it and not cleaned it up. Free from one jug, I picked up the broken piece and put it on an empty shelf—which only made Cook glower at the spot. I’d have to remember to grab it on my way out.
“Careful, lass, wouldn’t want to drop the beets now.”
“Thank you.” And I wouldn’t want to. I’d only just discovered how much I liked them. We’d worked hours that morning pickling vegetables, salting fish and meat, hanging herbs and garlic to dry. We’d sliced up what was left of the fruit and preserved them in jars with honey. Baked a thousand oat cakes, and made strips of meat to be dried for jerky, and beans and peas were laid out to dry. Root vegetables and cabbages were all put in baskets with layers of burlap between. My fingers were raw, and my mind blown. All the work we’d done already still wouldn’t be enough. Cook said that preserving the food for winter would take a week with all hands on deck—and she had over two dozen clanswomen chipping in to help.
The day’s work had to be lugged down to the cellar where it would be stored in the cool room for all of winter. Looking around, everything appeared the same to me. There were no labels, and all the jars were identical. No printed pictures to tell us what was inside.
But I watched as cook tapped her finger along the top shelf until she seemed to find the spot she wanted and then put the pickled beets on top of it. If the woman knew where everything went by counting shelves, than the clan would be in trouble if something happened to her. Without Cook, every meal would be a guessing game.
If Cook thought it odd that I’d never been involved in preparing food for winter, she said nothing. The fact that Logan gave me the title of lady probably helped with that as I was sure there were plenty of ladies who didn’t think it their place to do chores. One in particular who stalked the halls of Gealach. God, how I hated her.
Amazing how the presence of one woman could totally destroy my confidence in my position here. There was no doubt in my mind that Logan still loved me, but I knew he, too, struggled with how to deal with the situation, and now it was certain that she was spying, or something along those lines.
“How many more jars of beets?” Cook asked, readjusting the way I’d put my jar up.
“I think five more.”
I hoped she’d tell me that was it. I desperately wanted to go back up to my room and tap on the door to see if Logan was next door. I wanted to search the halls until I found him and pull him into a darkened corner.
She nodded. “After that we’ll hang the herbs and garlic.”
Damn.
A loud thud, followed by the sound of several men cursing, had me whirling to see what they were about. Three men chased a rolling barrel that they must have lost hold of on their way down the stairs.
Cook ran after them, shouting and I stayed back in the shadows, wishing I could melt away. They cleaned up their mess and left the cellar and for the first time I was alone.
I swiped at the hair falling around my face from the bun I’d put it in, sweat soaking it and making loose tendrils stick to my temples. Sitting down on one of the barrels, I rubbed the back of my neck, stretched out my feet. I glanced around at the flickering torches. Only three had been lit, but it was enough to light the shelves we’d been filling, leaving the back of the cellar in shadows. I took several deep breaths, putting myself in that thinking place. The place where I liked to go when I had to figure out some of life’s great mysteries.
Before I could reach it, there was a sound from the darkened part of the cellar. A scuffling sound. My gaze shot to the spot, and I squinted, trying to make out what it was. I could only see shadows. Dark and short, wide and thin. The shelves, various boxes and barrels, but my mind made the noise into every imaginable demon.
Another scuffle.
“Hello?”
There was no answer.
Of course.
Then I was reminded of the time I’d snuck down into the darkened secret room fifty feet below the castle. How when I’d reached the bottom, my candles had been blown out. I’d had to crawl in the dark, fear eating me from the inside out until I reached the stairs, and climbed. And climbed. And climbed. And then I’d fallen. Thought I was going over the edge of a cliff, but in reality I’d only tripped and tumbled to the floor.
There had been a ghost or demon or something there with me. Something evil that took away the light. Something dark that wanted me to stay buried.
Was it back?
Goosebumps prickled my skin and I rubbed my arms, standing and backing toward the stairs, suddenly sure that I wasn’t alone. I kept my eyes on the darkened shadows, half-expecting a demon to lunge from the dark corners and grab me by the throat.
My foot caught on something and I flailed backward. Strong arms wrapped around my middle and I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Like I’d been paralyzed and my voice stolen from me.
“Shh…” someone whispered by my ear and a shiver stole over me.
Then a hard, warm body crashed against my back and I sank against it, instantly aware of Logan. A sigh of relief escaped me, and I leaned my head back against his shoulder, his masculine scent surrounding and intoxicating me.
“I am leaving at first light,” he said, his voice harsher than his touch.
“To go where?” Panic made my voice sound shrill, and I worked to calm myself.
“I must seek out the king. This is what we both want, is it not?” he asked.
