The thought sent an odd little tremor through her. She placed the teapot into the kiln and then walked over to her workbench. If she was going to start making bricks, she’d need a mold. With a piece of charcoal, she sketched out a design on a bit of scrap wood and once satisfied with her sketches, set about making what she needed.
She used sturdy planks of oak, carefully cutting them to size and smoothing out the rough edges with the tools left behind by Niall’s mother. Using nails and a hammer, she knocked the pieces together until she had a large latticework that would make around ten bricks at a time.
This done, she rolled up her sleeves, dipped her hands into the basin full of wet clay, and began pressing and smoothing it out until it filled every corner of the latticework. When she’d filled each section, she carefully pried out the blocks of clay, revealing ten perfectly shaped bricks.
A surge of triumph washed through her. It had worked! Now all she had to do was allow them to dry thoroughly and fire them—hopefully without cracking. Then she really would be on a roll. She grinned and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, barely noticing the streak of clay left across her forehead.
By the time the sun was nearing midday, Charlie was covered in the stuff. Her hair stuck wild in all directions as she surveyed her morning’s work. She had made dozens of bricks, all lined up on the table, ready to be dried before their firing in a few days’ time. Charlie allowed herself to feel a little smug. Who said a ceramics degree was useless? Even the teapot she had fired had turned out well, showing the kiln actually worked. Progress!
Charlie stripped off her clay-stained apron and washed her hands in the basin, scrubbing away at the dried clay stuck under her fingernails, and attempting to smooth down her wild hair—an attempt that she was pretty sure failed. Damn. She would have to ask Flora to heat her some water later so she could have a bath.
Leaving the workshop, she began climbing the hill towards the building site, following the well-worn path that wound up the hillside, past fields of freshly planted crops, and orchards filled with blossom that hung to the trees like candy floss.
As she neared the top of the hill, she could hear shouting and chatter echoing from the construction site and spotted men hard at work, their silhouettes dark against the bright sky as they moved about on scaffolding made from sturdy oaken poles.
She found Niall at the top of the hill, as she knew she would, overlooking the site. His hair was tousled by the wind, and he’d clearly been laboring with his men if the way his shirt was plastered to his body with sweat was any indication. Charlie’s mouth went a little dry at the sight, and she forced her eyes up to his face as he turned to watch her approach.
“Ah, Charlotte. Come to check on progress?”
“Something like that.”
She stepped up beside him and followed his gaze. The windmill stood tall against the blue backdrop of the sky, the scaffolding higher than it had been yesterday. The construction of the tower was now complete and it was an impressive sight, she had to admit.
“Once the sails arrive, we’ll be able to start testing it. By the end of the month we might actually be able to start grinding our own grain,” Niall told her.
Charlie cocked her head, smiling at his boyish enthusiasm. “I’m pleased for you. And I have an idea of a way to house your new mill workers, too.”
“Oh?” Niall listened with interest as she laid out her plan to start making building materials.
“Bricks and tiles?” he asked when she was finished. “I thought ye planned to make pots and utensils.”
“I did,” she said with a shrug. “But then you mentioned how you are low on building materials and it’s too expensive to bring them from Edinburgh. We have the clay, we have the workshop, we have the kiln. Bricks and tiles will actuallyhelpthe people here. And if I teach others, you can continue after I leave.”
He glanced at her sharply as she said that and she saw something flash across his face so quickly she almost missed it.
“Ye would do that for us?” he asked softly.
“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”
“But to produce enough for what we need would require something bigger than just my mother’s old workshop.”
Charlie nodded. “Yep. And more people. But seeing as you’ve got more people than you know what to do with, I can’t see that being a problem. I was hoping to train some of your folks up.”
Niall was silent, his gaze intense, as though seeing her for the first time. “Ye are quite remarkable, Charlotte,” he said softly.
She felt a blush creeping up her neck and waved the compliment away. “Nothing remarkable about making bricks and tiles. We need to find space to enlarge the workshop and the kiln. And I’ll need some volunteers who are willing to get their hands dirty and learn. Maybe some of the newcomers?”
Niall nodded. “Aye, there will be plenty interested in learning a new trade.” He gave her a smile that made her heart flutter in her chest.
She quickly shifted her gaze back to the windmill, not trusting herself to meet his eyes. For a few moments they stood in silence, watching as the windmill slowly took shape under the watchful eyes and skilled hands of Niall’s men. The rhythmical clanging of hammers and the coarse rasp of saws against wood filled the air, punctuated by laughter and banter. It was all so...normal.
Well, notnormal, Charlie amended. After all, shewasin the seventeenth century, but this kind of activity, with the banter and joking, the bustle and the bickering, went on the world over, regardless of the time period. It made her feel a little less displaced. A little more...at home.
And then there was Niall. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She didn’t even want to think about the effect he was having on her. It was confusing in the extreme.
“Niall!”
They both turned at the shout to see Joseph puffing up the hill towards them. “Ye’d better come,” he panted as he reached them, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Visitors.”
