Kenna blew out an uneasy breath. Lovely.She had almost forgotten how complicated life got with Granny stirring the pot.
A cheerful humming broken with a string of slightly off-tune lyrics echoed from the stairwell. With a happy, chirruping end to her tune, a slight woman balancing a linen-covered tray in her hands flounced into the hall.
This had to be Coira. A friendly smile split her freckle-dusted face as she bobbed a quick curtsy to Kenna and tilted her head toward a closed door farther down the hallway. “A proper welcome to ye, mistress. Cook sends ye a fine meal to warm yer belly and send ye to yer dreams. Follow me and we’ll get ye settled. Master Colum’s already seen to the putting of yer bags in yer room.”
Granny stifled a yawn as she patted Kenna’s arm. “I shall leave you to Coira’s fine care.” She leaned a bit closer, pecked a quick kiss on Kenna’s cheek, then whispered, “It’s okay, she can be trusted. She knows all about us and our travels.”
Good to know.Eliza had reminded her over and over about keeping her Sinclair legacy and abilities well hidden in the past. Kenna snorted out a yawn as she watched Granny toddle back down the hallway and disappear into another room. She hadn’t really needed Eliza’s reminder—Granny had drilled that warning into all of them before they were old enough to walk.
“Mistress? Be ye coming?”
Kenna eased her way into the room, closing the heavy oak door softly behind her. Her back against the door, she slowly took in the plushness of the surroundings. Tapestries saturated with rich, deep blues, greens, and burgundies hung along the widest wall of what looked to be a cozy sitting room. A vibrant scene of a unicorn standing beside a maiden with golden, flowing hair was centered between two smaller weaves depicting various animals: a pair of rabbits, a fox with kits, and what appeared to be an otter frolicking beside a stream in a flower-filled woodland.
A newly kindled fire crackled a cheerful welcome from the small hearth. The dark, polished wood of the walls gleamed with the dancing reflection of the golden flames. Coira wrapped her hand in her apron and used a black iron poker to better position the logs. “Come, mistress. Sit ye down and sup.”
After a nod at a small, cushioned bench pulled up to a cloth-covered table, Coira settled the poker beside the hearth and buzzed about the intimate room like a bee pollinating a field of flowers. “Cook sent ye a pitcher of wine, but I brought ye a smoking hot bit of herbal brew as well. I didna ken for sure, but I thought it might better suit ye. I know Mistress Trulie prefers it.”
“Sounds like heaven.” Kenna eased down on the bench and reached for the squat ceramic pot as a curling wisp of steam slowly rose from its spout.
“Nay, mistress.” Coira rushed over to the table, a disapproving scowl puckering her face. Wrapping her hand in her apron, she scooped the handle of the pot out of Kenna’s grasp and smoothly poured a steaming cup. “I’ve cream to make it richer. Would ye like that?”
Kenna clasped her hands in her lap to keep from helping herself. In one of their private chats through the fire portal, Trulie had explained that one of the greatest adjustments she’d had to make was being personally tended to from head to toe by the attentive and competent Coira. Kenna was beginning to understand what Trulie meant—being waited on felt strange. “Just the brew is fine. Thank you.”
Coira’s reddish blonde brows arched to the fringe of coppery curls peeping out from beneath the white linen cap neatly tied beneath her chin. “Ye have no wish for cream to curb the bitterness? Ye had quite the night, mistress.”
Kenna sipped in a taste, then clamped her jaws tightly shut to keep from spitting as she lowered the cup to the table. “No, thank you. It’s perfect as is.” The odd tang of the concoction made her wonder what exactly they had boiled in the water.
“Aye.” Coira bobbed her head. “I feared Cook let it go overly long, but she insisted ye needed a heartier batch to ease yer weariness.” Without waiting for Kenna’s reply, Coira poured a healthy dollop of cream into the cup. Then she untied a thick cloth from around the top of a small stone jar and carefully tipped it until a thick stream of amber ooziness swirled down into the hot liquid. “There now. The honey adds to it as well. Have ye another sip.”
Kenna hesitated, then gave the hot swill another try. Surprisingly enough, the honey and cream chased away the jaw-locking tartness of the greenish brew.“Thank you. Much better.”
Coira gave an imperious nod that clearly said Kenna should’ve listened to her in the first place. “Whilst ye tended yer sister, I put yer things in order in yer room.” As she pulled apart what looked like a steaming square biscuit, she tilted her head toward an open doorway across the room. “Ye will find yer treasures and yer strange wee bags put away in the trunk at the foot of yer bed.” Coira smeared a thick layer of what looked like clotted cream across the biscuit and set it on a small pewter plate. Sliding the plate directly in front of Kenna, she finished the treat by drizzling a healthy portion of the honey across the rich, creamy puddle of butter soaking into the bread. “After ye’ve had time for a wee rest, I’ll be back up here to dress ye proper afore ye go down to hall. Here now. Eat yer bannock afore it grows cold.”
The wordsgo down to halleffectively killed her appetite. Kenna nervously tapped a finger along the ridge running around the edge of the plate. “What’s that going to be like?” She pushed the plate a few inches away and looked up at Coira.
Coira frowned down at the plate, slid it back closer to Kenna, and thumped her finger on the table. “Ye must eat. Ye are already so tiny a good gust of Highland wind will blow yer arse into the sea.”
“I will eat after you fill me in about thishallbusiness.Granny said I could trust you. I need to know what to expect . . . how to act.” Kenna swallowed hard. She needed to know what she was up against before she faced the reality of the thirteenth century. As time runners, they had all visited various epochs of time. Granny had taken them all over the web of time not only as part of their education on how to maneuver across the centuries but to broaden their knowledge of history in general.
She had always followed Trulie and Granny’s lead when it came to temporarily blending into whatever culture they came across. This time she was on her own. Trulie was understandably indisposed and Granny was busy helping with new baby Chloe. Coira was her only hope for help with thirteenth-century dining and socializing etiquette.
Coira leaned hard on the short-bladed knife slicing through the wedge of cheese. “Dinna fash yerself, mistress Ye will be dressed proper and all will know ye as the chieftain’s good sister. I reckon ye will be just fine.”
“That is no help.” Kenna pinched off a corner of the bannock and popped it into her mouth. She waved away the small chunk of cheese Coira proffered. “No thank you. The biscuit is plenty.”
“‘Bannock.’” Coira pronounced the word slowly, as though Kenna were a child learning how to talk. “Now eat a bit of the cheese too. That corner of bread ye pinched away wouldna properly feed a wee rat.”
“You are a nag.” Kenna snatched the cheese out of Coira’s fingers and nibbled at the pungent, waxy chunk.
A proud smile lit up Coira’s face. “Aye. I am that.” She cut off another wedge of cheese and put it on the plate beside the bannock. “Now eat while I fold back yer bed. When ye rise from yer wee nap, I will brush yer hair, wash ye good, and dress ye.”
“Great,” Kenna said as she pinched off another bit of bread. Then she snorted a disgruntled huff. “Just what I need—an honorary, bossy sister.”
“Hie yerself now and eat yer fill,” Coira called from the other room. “Yer bed’s awaiting, and I’ll warrant ye’ll sleep for a fortnight from the look of those weary smudges ’neath yer eyes.”
“Thanks a lot.” Kenna emptied her cup and brushed the crumbs from her fingers as she stood. Not only was Coira bossy . . . she was brutally honest. Kenna yawned and stretched as she headed to the private bedchamber. Maybe life would be a lot less daunting after afortnightof sleep.
CHAPTER9
