“What will become of this?” Daisy asked.
Before Jock could answer she heard something. He heard it at the same time. “What was that?”
The two of them listened. A faint thud, coming from inside. They pushed open the door and listened again. The sound was still faint but nearer. It took a few minutes to pinpoint it. When they did they made their way downstairs into the cellar.
“It’s behind here,” Jock said, pulling at the door. It was locked but one yank of his arm and it ripped free, falling to the floor. Behind it was a dark corridor and from the end the noise grew louder. “Help!”
Jock ran down into the darkness, Daisy squinting after him. There was a crash as another door was broken through and then Jock was dragging a prone figure out. He lay him down in the cellar, wiping dust from the man’s eyes.
“Robin?” he said, pushing hair from the prone figure’s forehead. “Is that you?”
Daisy realized the dough had been ignored too long and recommenced kneading. The financier was now safe.
His house had been finished for him, a crumb of comfort for the months he had been trapped in the darkness of the cellar’s hidden compartment, surviving on insects and the water that ran down the walls.
It wasn’t hard to work out what had happened. Robin spoke of the day he had gone home to find a bald barefoot man in his house. The financier had gone home one person and returned to the castle another.
Robin was given back his position and soon had the clan finances back in shape, even with the loan to the king taken into account. As Edward said, he had always been a master of money.
The smell of baking bread soon filled the kitchen. Once it was finished, Daisy added it to the tray of gingerbread, taking both into the keep, crunching through the snow in the courtyard, and then heading up the stairs to the top floor.
Morag and Eddard were deep in the middle of a game of chess when she entered. “I will win in three,” Eddard said, not noticing Daisy’s arrival.
“You were saying,” Morag replied, sliding her queen forward, knocking over his king before leaning back and laughing, her lapdog waking up at the disturbance but soon settling again. “Lady takes laird, how apt. Women can be more powerful than you think.” She turned and winked at Daisy who smiled back.
It was good to see the two of them like this. Their recovery had been swifter than their decline. Once they were eating unadulterated food, the clouds that fogged their minds drifted away.
The two of them were far sharper than Daisy would ever have guessed, especially Morag who was always hungry to hear stories from the future.
“Daisy,” Morag said, seeing her standing with the tray. “Will you join me for a game?”
“I was hoping Jock would be up here. I’ve not seen him all morning.”
“He’s been in an important meeting,” Eddard replied. “Should be back soon.”
“He’s been away for weeks dealing with the borders and he gets back and goes straight into a meeting? He’ll be worn out if the cold doesn’t freeze him solid first.”
“Never mind,” Morag said. “The smell of fresh bread will bring him up. Best way to that man’s heart is with food.”
“Especially gingerbread,” Eddard added.
The chess set was soon ready. Eddard vacated his chair and Daisy took it, trying her best to remember some of the moves Morag had taught her. Within two minutes she knew she was going to lose. “I should have protected my laird,” she said, seeing the way things were going.
“You did,” said a voice from the doorway. She looked up and there was Jock. Unable to contain herself, she ran over and threw her arms around him.
“So much for propriety,” Jock said, hugging her back.
Morag scoffed. “Och, save that for the clan. We ken how in love you two are.”
“How did the meeting go?” Eddard asked, throwing a log onto the fire.
“What was it about again?” Morag asked innocently.
“Something important,” he replied, smiling as he kissed Daisy’s forehead before crossing to the fire, holding his hands out to it. “Curse this winter cold.” He glanced toward his mother. “Robin has added up the figures and yes, we can afford it.”
“Afford what?” Eddard asked, grinning as broadly as his wife.
“The wedding.”
