She sighed, looking out over the landscape from her vantage point outside the pottery. Up on the hill to her left, she could see the windmill with its scaffolding and workers clambering around as they did their best to repair it. To her right and downhill lay the building site where the new cottages were going up. Beyond all of this was the open, rolling Scottish landscape full of wide glens, sparkling lochs and mountains that looked as though they were trying to touch the sky.
She felt the tension inside her ease, just a little. This land was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. She was even starting to feel at home here, which was crazy when she thought about it.
She turned to face south, to where the road led from the estate and back towards the capital. It was in that direction that MacAllister’s estate lay. She couldn’t see his manor house from here, but that did nothing to stop the twinge of anger that curdled her gut as she stared in that direction.
Why hadn’t Niall taken her discovery seriously? Why had he told her to forget what she’d found at MacAllister’s house? Charlie wasn’t sure she could. MacAllister was at the center of all this, she was sure. Her restlessness was like an itch she couldn’t scratch, the missing piece of a puzzle she couldn’t quite grasp.
She clenched her fists and huffed out an exasperated growl. No. She was done being told what to do. If Niall wouldn’t help her, she would just have to do this herself. She’d promised Niall that she wouldn’t go near Boyd MacAllister, but he wasn’t currently at home. He was in Edinburgh, so if she returned to his estate, she wouldn’t be breaking her promise, would she?
She bit her lip, plans tumbling through her head. For what she intended, she needed to ensure she didn’t arouse any suspicion. She needed a legitimate reason for turning up at the manor house. Wait! An idea came to her and she smiled. Yes. That would work!
Spinning on her heel, she strode back into the pottery, and grabbed what she needed from a shelf where she’d placed it. Just a little tinkering, a little polishing, and it would be ready.
By the time she was ready, the sun was sinking towards midafternoon. The overcast had broken, letting through streaks of sunlight that made the puddles from the recent rains sparkle like polished glass. Charlie placed the wrapped bundle under her arm, left the pottery, and strode downhill to the road before she could change her mind.
She didn’t look back as she retraced the route she’d taken earlier today. Where the road split, she took the left-hand fork, following the track as it wove through the rich, sheep-filled fields of MacAllister’s estate. The manor house soon came into view. Her steps slowed a little and a tiny sliver of doubt crept in. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea.
She squashed the thought. No. If she was ever going to get home, she had to take matters into her own hands.
She thought of the words Irene MacAskill had spoken to her.Write yer own story, lass. Not someone else’s that ye read about in a book.
Well, here she was writing her own story and she’d be damned if she’d let anyone else do it for her.
She strode up to the door and knocked. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin as footsteps approached from the other side. Angela opened the door. Her expression brightened at seeing Charlie.
“Miss Charlotte! What are ye doing here?”
Charlie held out the wrapped bundle. “I’ve brought you something.”
With a quizzical expression, Angela reached out and took it. She pulled the wrapping aside to reveal the teapot that Charlie had made when she’d first taken over the pottery. It wasn’t one of Charlie’s finest pieces and she hadn’t had time to add decoration, but it was smooth and serviceable.
Angela smiled. “Did ye make this?”
Charlie shrugged. “The least I could do after breaking yours earlier.”
“Och, there was no need. Terrance breaks things all the time. But thank ye, it’s a very kind thought. Willnae ye come in for a bite to eat and to try out yer pot?”
Charlie smiled. “I’d love to.”
So far, so good.
She followed Angela into the house, looking around warily. “Lord MacAllister still not home?”
Angela waved a dismissive hand. “Nay. We never know when the lord will return.”
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief as she followed Angela into the kitchen. The wire-haired man, who she guessed must be Terrance, was there. He put his muddy boots on the table while he leaned down from his chair, busy scrubbing his toenails.
“Stop that!” Angela snapped. “We have a guest. And get those boots off my table this instant!”
Terrance rolled his eyes, but moved his boots to the floor. “Ah! Ye must be young Niall’s outland guest,” he said in a warm voice. “The one I’ve heard so much about?”
“Um...you have?” Charlie asked, wondering exactlywhatTerrance had heard.
“Aye, by all accounts ye’ve caused something of a stir over at the Campbell estate with these new building materials ye’ve introduced. I wouldnae mind seeing it myself, truth be told.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, relieved. “That. It’s nothing really, just changed up a few things.”
“Miss Charlotte has brought us a new teapot,” Angela said, putting it down on the table.
