Ismay followed him into the storeroom and playfully stuck out her tongue when he looked in her direction. “What an excellent suggestion. I have no’ shocked Reverend Adair for over a fortnight, and that is half the fun of misbehaving.”
Fergus shook his head, unable to keep the smile from his face as he deposited the trunk on the floor. His younger sister was cheeky, but she was a good lass. Besides, she knew her backside would be on the receiving end of a switch if she didn’t behave. Their mother tolerated no nonsense from anyone. “Why no’ go bedevil yer beau and leave me in peace?” he said.
“Terrence is tending the horses. Dinna think I’m foolish enough ta step foot in the stables. I havena forgotten yer threat ta run my betrothed through with a blade if you catch me down there.”
“I can go with her,” Leana called from the corridor. Recently, their fifteen-year-old cousin had discovered lads and in turn, they had begun to notice her. Fergus wouldn’t allow Ismay or Leana to frequent the stables, even if his sister was nineteen and soon to be a married woman. There were a few too many straw piles in the stables for his liking.
Fergus responded with a half growl, half grunt.
His sister grinned. “Why do you think I have her helping me today? That way I can keep an eye on her.”
“Keepbotheyes on the lass. She has always been one ta get up ta mischief.”
Leana peeked around the doorjamb. With her peaches and cream complexion and strawberry blond hair, it was no wonder the lads wanted to chase her. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the good sense to run. “I can hear every word yer saying, cousin.”
“I meant you ta hear.” He winked at his sister and chucked Leana on the chin when he exited the room. “Now if I can only get you talisten.”
As he headed toward the kitchen, Ismay rallied their young cousin to follow her above stairs to help with the final preparations to Helena’s sisters’ chambers. Helena wanted everything perfect for her sisters, and the staff at Aldmist Fell cared for her as if she were one of their own. They would make certain their lady was well pleased with every detail.
Fergus found his mother in the kitchen wringing out a piece of muslin and barking orders at her two assistants. Her face lit up as he strolled in. “There ye are. I wasna certain ye would be here for supper since I didna see ye all afternoon.”
“I have no’ missed a meal yet, have I?” He rounded the baker’s table to kiss her plump cheek as she spread the wet cloth over the table. Even though his work at Aldmist Fell sometimes kept him outdoors for long hours, he always made time to sit for meals with the house servants, most of whom were his kin. “Miss Gracie kept me busy today. I spent the better part of the afternoon searching for skates for the ice skating outing she has planned. The lass has a list of ideas as tall as she is.”
His mother chuckled, her shoulders jostling as she dug a handful of flour from a bowl and sprinkled it over the cloth. “Aye, we’ll have no rest with that one around.”
Fergus moved to the end of the table so he wasn’t in her way. He watched her efficient movements with interest. “Are you making clootie dumplings?”
She nodded and swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, leaving a dusting of flour. “Miss Gracie has never had them. The poor child knows nothing about the Highlands.”
“Weel, she couldna have a better teacher. You’ll have her whipped into shape before she heads back ta England.”
“Aye, she’ll no’ learn it from any of the Sassenachs. Bless her soul.”
Despite his mother’s initial show of exasperation over the horde of Sassenachs that would be descending on the castle, her beaming smile suggested she actually was pleased. The former lord of Aldmist Fell—Helena’s first husband—rarely entertained, unlike his parents before him. It had been many years since the castle had housed guests, which might account for everyone’s high spirits. The staff was more jovial than he’d ever seen them. Without much excitement to be had in their small corner of northern Scotland, houseguests broke the monotony of winter.
His mother looked up from her task. “What brings ye ta the kitchen? Dinner will no’ be served for a while yet.”
“I’ve a favor ta ask,” Fergus said. “Tomorrow afternoon I am taking Miss Gracie and Mistress Gallagher around the countryside, and I wondered if you would make yer fruited nut cake and pack some warm chocolate for the outing.”
His mother snorted, grabbed the large mixing bowl sitting on the counter to hug it close to her body, and wrestle the wooden spoon through the thick mixture of suet and currants. “Can ye no’ sneak away with Miss Gracie before the shrew comes below stairs?”
“Och.” Fergus pinched the bridge of his nose. The womenfolk were giving him more trouble than he deserved today. “Mistress Gallagher is a decent sort.” He felt the need to defend the lass since she had no one to take her side. Whereas Fergus had been born into a large family of ready allies, Mistress Gallagher had none. “And no, I cannae sneak away. I invited her ta join us.”
His mother stopped stirring to stare at him as if he was off his head. He held up his hand before he received an earful from his opinionated mother. “I’ve said my piece. I will no’ hear anymore on the matter.”
She pursed her lips and slammed the bowl onto the counter. Wiping her hands on her apron, she shot a look toward her kitchen staff. “If it would please his Laird High-and-Mighty,” she snipped, “I would beg a word with ye outside.”
He sighed, already regretting speaking to her in such a way in front of her subordinates. Even though he held a higher rank at Aldmist Fell as the land steward, she was his mother and deserved a different level of respect a cook without familial ties would be given. With a sharp nod, he granted her request and followed her into the corridor. She led him away from the kitchen.
“Mother, I want ta make the holidays special for Helena—Lady Thorne. All those years separated from her family. It was no’ right of her first husband ta keep her a prisoner.”
His mother turned on him to shake a finger in his direction. “Now you listen to me, Fergus McTaggart. I have been as patient with ye as any mother should be expected, but I cannae hold my tongue any longer. A man of three and thirty should have many a bairn by now.” She punched her fists to her hips, giving her scolding finger a rest. “Ye have a family line to carry on, and ye cannae do yer duty as long as ye run circles for Lady Thorne and her wee sister. God knows I love them both, but their wishes cannae come above yer responsibilities to yer family.”
“Nothing is interfering with my duties.” Fergus raked his fingers through his hair and growled under his breath. His mother hadn’t opposed him traveling to London with Helena to search for her sisters, but she’d been badgering him to find a nice lass and settle down ever since he’d come home. He had nothing against marriage or bairns, but he wouldn’t marry just any lass to make his mother happy. He had to find the right one, and his choices were limited in a small village where more than half the unmarried lasses were relatives. His luck might be improved in Inverness, but he was needed at Aldmist Fell until Lord and Lady Thorne returned to England after the new year.
“Can we no’ make it through Christmas first?” he said. “Mistress Gallagher and I have called a truce. Perhaps you and I can do the same. Once the Thornes leave, I will set my sights on courting a lass. I promise.”
His mother scowled. “I will hold ye to yer word. I expect ye to make me a grandma before Christmas next year.” She jostled past him and stomped back toward the kitchen.
