“Dare I ask what’s in the trunk?” Ismay asked, tossing her chestnut locks. “Everyone knows you hied off with that harpy, Edith Gallagher, this afternoon.”
Fergus glowered at her and Leana as they giggled. He didn’t know whether to be more upset by the insult to his integrity or his sister’s labeling of Mistress Gallagher as a harpy.
The woman could kick up a fuss for certain, but she didn’t holler just to hear her voice. It was true he took risks with Miss Gracie—at least it would seem that way to a Sassenach—but the little lassie was never in any danger. Mistress Gallagher cared for the girl and hadn’t yet realized he did, too.
“If you’re suggesting I have Mistress Gallagher in here,” he said, scooting past his kin and disappearing into the storeroom, “you’ve a wicked streak, lass. You should seek out the minister’s counsel and beg him to pray for you.”
Ismay followed him into the storeroom and playfully stuck out her tongue when he glanced in her direction.
“What an excellent suggestion,” she said. “I’ve no’ shocked Reverend Adair for over a fortnight, and that is half the fun of misbehaving.”
Fergus shook his head, unable to keep a 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 your beau and leave me in peace?” he said.
“Terrence is tending the horses. Dinnae think I’m foolish enough to step foot in the stables. I havenae forgotten your threat to 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, the lads 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 to Leana’s offer with a half growl, half grunt.
His sister chuckled. “Why do you think I have her helping me today? That way I can keep an eye on her.”
“Keep both eyes on the lass. She has always been one to get up to 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 you’re saying, cousin.”
“I meant you to hear.” He winked at his sister and chucked Leana on the chin when he exited the room. “Now, if I can only get you to listen.”
As he headed toward the kitchen, Ismay rallied their young cousin to follow her above stairs to help with the final preparations to the guests’ 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.
The welcoming aroma of cinnamon and yeasty bread wafted into the corridor outside the kitchen. Fergus heard his mother barking orders at her assistants before he strolled in. She paused in wringing out a piece of muslin, her face lighting up at the sight of him.
“There you are. I wasna certain you would be here for supper since I didnae see you 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 hopping today,” he said. “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.”
“Well, she couldnae have a better teacher. You’ll have her whipped into shape before she heads back to England.”
“Aye. She’ll no’ learn it from any of the Sassenachs. Bless her soul.”
