Chapter Five

Brenna shifted on the chair as she stared at the laird, savoring the warmth that was filling her. “I know not, Laird Balfour.”

He seemed to be considering her for a long moment. “What skills have you besides Sight? There must be something you know how to do now that talent is closed to you.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat and then cleared it with a small cough. “I used to work with my mother in the kitchen.” She didn’t bother to share she’d only been nine the last time she had done so, and though she had learned a great deal about how to care for a small family, that didn’t mean she could competently work in the kitchen of the keep.

“In that case, I shall see if Dolag can use you. She heads the kitchens. I will ensure you are assigned quarters, and you will not be swept from them again, I assure you.”

She nodded her head in thanks. “I do appreciate everything you have done for me, Laird Balfour.”

His expression softened for a moment, and he seemed on the verge of saying something, but then his shoulder straightened. “We intercepted an English scouting party looking for you. I sent them on their way with the message for Walstone that you are under my protection. You will be safe here, as I have promised. I owe you that after taking your gift from you.”

She looked down, not wanting him to see the truth or the paralyzing guilt in her eyes. “I begged you to, Laird.”

“Cameron,” he said harshly. Then he cleared his throat. “I mean, you can call me Cameron when it is just the two of us.”

She frantically shook her head as she lifted it to look at him. “I could not. I am likely to slip, and it would not do for me to think of you in such a familiar term anyway. It might lead to unwanted thoughts and feelings.” That was the most she could say on the matter, for she was already having unwanted feelings.

She was still as drawn to him as she had been, and now knowing the kind of pleasure they could give each other made her want it even more. It was more than that though. As much as she enjoyed being with him physically, she was certain she could come to appreciate his emotional and intellectual depths as well. There was something quite lovable about the laird, and she couldn’t afford to allow herself the folly of giving away her heart. It would only be returned to her broken in pieces, for he had already made it clear she would never be a woman he would pick as a mate.

He frowned, but then he sighed. “I understand. In that case, Miss Taggart, allow me to show you to the kitchens and install you into Dolag’s capable hands.”

Reluctantly, Brenna followed him from the Great Hall, leaving behind the Maclaren plaid on the chair, and entered the kitchen a few minutes later. It was hot in there, and she appreciated that for the moment after being chilled from her time outside, but she was certain it could soon become uncomfortable.

An older woman emerged from the shadows, and she had her white hair confined under a mobcap. She wore a simple léine with an overdress made from the plaid of the clan. “What brings ye here, Laird Balfour?” She sounded only mildly curious, but her sharp gaze was focused on Brenna, and it was obvious she knew who she was.

“We have someone who will be staying with us for a time, Dolag. Miss Brenna Taggart has some experience working in the kitchens, and I assured her you could put her to good use.”

“I can certainly put her to use, but it remains to be seen if she’ll be any good at it.” The woman sounded dour as she made the prediction, but she nodded to her laird. “I shall see to yer orders being followed, Laird.”

“Thank you, Dolag.” He was gone all too quickly, leaving Brenna standing in front of the older woman, who was appraising her like she was a cut of beef. If so, apparently, Dolag found her wanting, as though she were half rotten and filled with maggots.

“What kind of kitchen experience do ye have, girl?” asked the brusque older woman.

“I worked with my ma in our kitchen before I was taken hostage by Walstone at age nine.” What was the point of lying about any experience when it would soon be revealed she didn’t have it if she tried to bluff her way through?

Dolag clicked her tongue. “That is not much to work with. I am certain ye understand we are responsible for feeding a few hundred, not just a small family. We all must work together to achieve that every day.”

“Yes, Mrs.…Dolag.” Having no idea of the woman’s full name, she settled for using her name along with the honorific.

“Just Dolag will do, girl. What is yer name again?”

“Brenna Taggart.”

“Well, Brenna, do ye know anything about peeling potatoes?”

“I have done it in the past,” said Brenna softly.

“It seems like a small enough place to start then.” She gestured for Brenna to take a seat on the stool that was surrounded by a large pile of potatoes.

Brenna moved over to them hesitantly, sitting on the stool and soon discovering it was uneven and rocked whenever she moved too far to the right. It also made her hips hurt, but she didn’t complain. “How many shall I do, Dolag?”

“All of them, child,” said Dolag with a hint of impatience. “We are feeding quite a number, remember?”

Brenna nodded, immersing herself in the chore and trying not to talk. It was tedious and mind-numbing work, and after the third time she had cut herself on the sharp little edge, she used some of her magic to form a slight barrier between herself and the blade, which kept her fingers from getting nicked as she continued to work slowly but steadily on the large pile of potatoes.

***

“What is she doing here?” asked a cold voice more than an hour later. Brenna looked up, her stomach clenching as she recognized the chambermaid who had discharged her from the lady’s chamber that morning. She was a pretty woman with a fall of long blonde hair to her waist, and it wasn’t confined in a mobcap or any other way, though surely that must be strictly impractical while working.

“The laird had me put her to a task.”

“I do not like it,” announced the blonde as she glared at Brenna. “She doesn’t belong here.”

“I do not agree nor disagree, but I do as our laird tells me. It would be wise to do the same, Glynis,” said Dolag with a note of warning in her tone.

“I shall be mistress yet, and then you will be listening to me, Dolag,” said Glynis with a sniff.

Dolag cackled. “Ye might be the prettiest girl in the clan, and ye might even have the uncommon ability to shift, but ye are beneath the laird.”

“His own mother was housekeeper before his father mated her.” Glynis was still glaring at Brenna even as she conversed with Dolag.

“True, but it is not because of yer station that ye are beneath Laird Balfour. It is yer attitude and the nature of the woman ye are inside, Glynis LeGuin. I know what is in the heart of ye, and I suspect the laird does too. If he has bothered to notice ye at all, that is. If and when he ever does, he will soon take the measure of ye and find ye wanting.” With those brisk words, Dolag turned away from her. “See to your chores, girl.”

Her gaze fell on Brenna, and her eyes were surprisingly kind as she smiled at her. “You’re making good progress with those potatoes, Brenna. Keep at it, girl.”

Brenna nodded, quickly looking down at the potato in her hand, eager to avoid Glynis’s angry glare that remained on her for half a moment longer before the blonde turned and strode away.

“Ye watch out for that one,” said Dolag softly.

Brenna’s head snapped up, and she looked at the older woman. “I beg your pardon?”

“Glynis is a sneaky one, and she is selfish. She cares only about what she wants, and she has been like that since she was a child. I fear there is a flaw in her makeup that will never be corrected. She is part of the clan, but I do not trust her. She seems to dislike ye, and so I warn ye now to watch yerself, girl.”

Brenna swallowed a lump in her throat as fear tightened her stomach for a moment. “I appreciate the warning, but surely, she will soon realize I mean no harm and have no influence on anyone. I am no more than a charity case, and if not for the laird’s kindness, I would not be here.”

“Kindness?” Dolag laughed. “That is one word for having shared his bed last night, I suppose. I suspect that is why Glynis has taken a dislike to ye, Brenna, so I warn ye to simply watch yourself around her.”

“That was for good reason,” said Brenna, face flushing. “The laird was ensuring I could not use my seeing powers against your people again. I asked him to see to the chore.”

Dolag cackled again. “I am certain he found it quite a chore,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes. “The laird clearly likes ye, even though ye are an Englishwoman. Glynis will dislike that. I will watch out for ye as much as I can, but ye must not dismiss her as a threat.”

Seeing the seriousness beneath Dolag’s crude teasing, Brenna’s fear increased slightly, and she nodded. “I shall certainly watch myself around her. Thank you for the warning, Dolag. When she realizes there is nothing more to it than last night though, that will be the end of it.”

“If,” said Dolag cryptically.

Brenna shook her head. “If what?”

“If last night was the last of it,” said Dolag with a nod. She seemed on the verge of cackling again.

Brenna fell silent, clamping her lips shut in an effort to deny Dolag’s words. It wasn’t because she felt like arguing with them. Rather, she felt like finding hope in them, and that was a dangerous thing. She couldn’t risk giving her heart to a man who’d made it plain he didn’t want it. Living in hope would be foolish and could cause her to waste away.

***

It was a long and arduous day in the kitchen, and Brenna was dreading a repeat the next day, knowing it would start at dawn, as she followed Dolag and Glynis into the Great Hall. All the tables were full, save for one bench, and the three of them sat down at it. She realized she was sharing a trencher with Glynis, and she grimaced. She wasn’t at all surprised when the other woman pulled it away and started eating all the food. If that was her normal appetite, it was amazing she was so slim and beautiful.

“Here, girl,” said Dolag with a disgusted look at Glynis as she turned her trencher so they could share it.

Brenna sopped up her bread in the broth filling the old trencher, relieved to have something filling her stomach. The potatoes she had peeled were a little bland, and she realized there was one thing that was better about Walstone’s camp. His cook was more gifted with spices, but she’d settle for bland potatoes, overly boiled greens, and thin broth any day over a better meal and being enslaved.

“I see you looking at him,” said Glynis unexpectedly.

Brenna turned her head from the trencher she’d been focusing on to look at the girl beside her. “What?”

“I see you staring at the laird. Everyone knows what you enticed him to do last night. I say it’s magic. You spelled him, and we should drive you out.”

“It was to end magic,” said Brenna in a firm tone before looking away from Glynis.

A second later, she gasped as Glynis’s knife appeared in the table between the webbing of her thumb and forefinger. If she’d moved even a tick, the knife would’ve been through her hand. She stared at Glynis, appalled at the woman’s actions. “What is wrong with you? I’ve done nothing to you, and I ask nothing of you, save for you to leave me alone.”

“He is mine, and you will remember that. There will be no more attempts to seduce the laird, though I do not believe he fell for your chicanery. Likely, you rendered him unconscious and made him fall sleep with you so everyone would think he’d taken you in that way. I do not believe it for one moment.”

Brenna thought about disabusing her of the notion, for she didn’t doubt she could have done so. A few moments describing the night before probably would’ve been enough to turn Glynis’s lovely pale complexion to a sickly pallid color. Yet she resisted the urge, not wanting to further enrage Glynis.

The woman seemed unhinged, and she gingerly withdrew her hand from where the knife had been close to penetrating her skin. She didn’t respond to Glynis, and she did her best not to look at Cameron throughout the meal. The couple of times her gaze strayed to him without her permission, she was unsettled, but also flattered, to find he was looking at her as well.

Last night must’ve been more memorable than he would like if he was still thinking about her today. Hope tried to rise in her breast, but she quickly smothered it with the reminder it would serve no purpose. There could be no future with the dragon laird, especially if and when he ever learned she was still a powerful witch.