“How did ye learn so much about healing?” Evan asked. He’d like to learn more about her and, at the same time, have a conversation that didn’t involve him snapping at the lass.
“‘My mum was a healer. When I was old enough to study the craft, I followed her around and learned a great deal from her. She was a wonderful woman. My da was not the only one who suffered at her passing.” Her words fumbled at the end of the statement.
“So ye were left to raise yer brother?”
“Aye. He is the sweetest thing too. When you get to ken him, ye will be quite pleased with him. Well mannered, smart, and verra helpful.”
And hopefully not of the wailing type that had arrived that afternoon. “Where did Finlay and his sister settle?”
“Since we haven’t yet visited the tenants to see if there are any empty cottages, I put them both in one of the bedchambers upstairs.”
“Without the goat, I assume?”
Mistress Stirling became very interested in her meal.
He rested his fisted
hands holding his fork and knife alongside his plate. “Mistress Stirling? I asked ye a question.”
She wiped her mouth and looked at him with the most innocent look he’d ever seen on a woman’s face. His eyes snapped to Alasdair, who choked.
“Is that not correct, mistress?” He felt the muscle under his right eye start to twitch.
“What is that you said again, my laird?” She leaned forward, as though her hearing had suddenly left her. He narrowed his eyes, knowing what her answer would be.
The silence in the room was broken by the bleating of a goat who wandered into the dining room.
Chapter Seven
The next morning Katie received word from Meggie that the MacNeil wanted to travel to various tenants to visit with them and see how they’d been getting on with no laird this past year. He hoped to assess whatever needs they had before he left for Argyll. She was to accompany him to be introduced and take notes.
After last night’s disaster with wee Agnes’s goat, Myrtle, and the trouble she had getting it out of the castle and into the stable, along with Agnes’s wails, she was happy the laird had not thrown the lot of them out of the house.
The laird.
Evan MacNeil was never far from her thoughts. Everything about the man spoke of power and control. She was quite certain he was used to instant obedience and did not countenance someone who would naysay him.
If only she didn’t suffer such strange feelings when he was near her. It was as if she had suddenly been taken over by an illness that caused her stomach to tingle, her heart to pound, and suddenly she noticed parts of her body she usually ignored.
When his deep-green eyes—the color of the hills of Scotland—bored into her, her clothes were much too bothersome, and much too tight. She did not suffer so with Alasdair. He was open and friendly and didn’t make her feel as though an ague had settled in her chest.
MacNeil and his brother were busy consuming a huge breakfast when she arrived at the dining table in the Great Hall. She had a hearty appetite, and her full form could attest to that, but she was still amazed at how much food the brothers could consume in one sitting.
“Guid mornin’,” both men said as she joined them at the table.
“Are ye ready for our trip to the tenants?” MacNeil asked. “I’m anxious to see that all is well before I leave for Argyll.”
Truth be known, Katie was a bit torn about MacNeil’s departure. She wanted him gone so she could reclaim control over her traitorous body, but as much as she had wanted to take possession and control of the MacDuff lands, she was nervous about running it all herself. ’Twas hard enough when her da had succumbed to grief and left her to deal with all the problems, but this estate was much bigger and appeared much more successful.
’Twas what had brought her in the first place, but the challenges here would be vastly different. And it would be her job to keep it prosperous.
She filled her plate, and they ate in silence. After a few minutes, the MacNeil and Alasdair began a debate about some issue with their own holdings. She switched her mind off their conversation and wondered whether she’d made a mistake in accepting the laird’s offer of employment.
’Twas one thing to be in charge of her own estate, where she handled whatever problems arose from her decisions, but to be accountable to someone with the force of Laird MacNeil caused her some anxiety.
“I assume there will be no more goats in the castle, Mistress?” MacNeil asked, breaking into her thoughts before taking a gulp of coffee. He wiped his mouth and shoved his empty plate away.
“Nay, Laird. Myrtle is settled in the stable. I checked with the wee one this morning. She is feeling much better and understands her pet cannot stay in the castle.”