At that, Old Fergus shifted, his eyes darting angrily between Moira and Lilliana and the weed in her hand. “Forgive an old man his grumblings, Me Lady. I meant nay offense.”
“I found no offense at all, Old Fergus. A little discord is healthy.”
“I agree, ma’am.”
“And to answer your question, this weed that I have pulled is chickweed, but there is some thistle and stinging nettle interspersed between. I know those can help treat various illnesses, so I am leaving them untouched.”
His eyes lit up. “Mmm, so ye kena fewthingsabout plants then.”
“I do know quite a lot about plants. Back home in England, I have a whole library of books on various plants, their biology, and medicinal uses. I have read them all.”
“Ach.” The old man waved a gnarled hand. “Daenae mind me. I speak afore I think. Come here, let me show ye how I keep the snails from me plants. Mayhap ye can tell me how ye do it in England.”
Lilliana followed slowly behind Fergus as he rambled on about the garden and what plants he had grown over the years, and the various pests and diseases he had to fight in order to keep a healthy garden.
“Are you seeing to the villagers? Or are they fending for themselves?” she asked when there was a break in his monologue.
“Of course, the castle is doing what it can. We have sent supplies and help where we can, but I am far too old to travel, and Moira is far too busy. Perhaps if ye ken something about it, ye can take over.” He gave her an encouraging look.
She smiled. “I certainly wish to, but the Laird is not too keen on the idea.”
“Aye, seems so,” he said noncommittally before pointing out a bunch of heather growing next to dandelions. He listed their uses, and she listened respectfully.
“This place might not be so bad. I think the housekeeper likes me anyway… and Old Fergus,” Lilliana told Bramble as she arranged bags of dried herbs that he had gifted her. “If his name is Old Fergus, that means there must be a Young Fergus, right?” she asked. “I would think so. Fergus is quite a common name among the Scots.”
“Who are ye talking to?”
She jumped at the deep baritone coming from the doorway, squeaking in surprise. “Where did you come from?” she asked, hand on her heaving bosom, before sneezing loudly.
She looked up to see a smirk on Kayden’s face, and that made her sneeze even more as her ire flared.
Why does he have to be so infuriating?
His eyes dropped to the cat at her feet. “Were ye talking to yer wee cat?”
Lilliana also looked down at the cat, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I do that sometimes,” she said defensively.
“I see.” He nodded. “For yer information, thereisa young Fergus. He’s a groom.”
She blinked at him, nonplussed. “I… see.”
He stepped into the room, looking around critically. “Doesnae seem to be a lot of dust in here. Is that the cause of yer sneezin’?”
Lilliana sneezed again, making his eyebrows rise in amusement. “It happens when I am around people who anger me,” she said tightly.
He threw back his head and laughed, a rumbling sound that made her think of stones falling. It was exasperating and even more infuriating that it made butterflies flutter in her belly.
Casting around for another topic, she threw down the gauntlet. “My Laird, if I am indeed your lady, I should be able to gowherever I please. Which means I should be able to visitourtenants at the village.”
His eyebrow arched even further. “Is that so?” he asked. Then his expression suddenly shifted from amused to irritated as he jerked.
He looked down at his feet, and she followed his gaze to find Bramble batting at his stockings.
“Bramble!” Lilliana cried before dropping to her knees to pick her up. “We do not attack others,” she admonished.
She ran her chin along the cat’s whiskers in gratitude.
Yes, he most certainly deserved it, Bram. Good kitty!
