“Me sister’s name is Emer, Mister Banting, sir,” Davinia was saying.
Emer came and stood beside her sister, “I am Emer, sir. How can I help ye?”
Mister Banting looked at Emer up and down. He did not see anything particularly outstanding about the young woman in front of him. She had her hair tucked neatly into a mob cap and a smudge on her nose from cleaning the stovetop earlier on that morning. Her back was straight, and her figure was slender enough to turn a man’s head if he saw her from behind. He could not help but feel the girl would do well to relax a little bit-she seemed very proud and nervous at the same time. He was sure her liquid brown eyes, fringed with delightfully long dark lashes, would sparkle if she would only give a smile.
“Emer,” he committed the girl’s name to memory, “the Laird wants to see ye up in his library now. So, tidy yerself up a bit and present yerself at the door without a minute’s more delay. If ye find guards at the door, tell them ye’re Davinia’s sister and let them announce ye as that-else ye will nae get in, believe me!”
When is this nightmare going to end? Is Laird Caillen taking some perverse delight in torturing me like a cat with a mouse? When I get to the library, I’m going to give him a piece of me mind so he can tell me to leave with nae more games!
All she said out loud was, “Aye, Mister Banting, at once, sir,” and ran out of the kitchen and up to her bedchamber to tidy her appearance.
When Emer stared into the spotted looking glass, she felt depressed. The beautiful ringlets she used to curl into her hair at the farm had disappeared as if by magic. At night, she was too tired to wrap rags around the long sheaves of dark brunette hair, and all she did when she woke in the morning was run a brush through the strands and bundle them into her cap.
I will nae leave the keep with me head hanging down, nor will I leave it looking like a drab! Especially when I’m being dismissed by a man who sails from port to port for the sheer pleasure of it.
Emer ripped off her mob cap and twisted her hair into a knot at the top of her head, allowing a few stray wisps and ringlets to cluster around her face. She went to the washstand and used her homemade soap to clean the grime off her neck and face. It was her own particular concoction, made from oils, distilled water, resin, and lye. The gentle scent calmed her and gave her strength.
She changed her pinafore for a delicate shawl her mother had given Davinia when she left home to work at the castle and hoped the Laird was not so angry with her that he would force her to leave without allowing her to return it to her sister first.
Giving one final look in the mirror, Emer felt ready for anything and made her way down to the Laird’s library. After only a few wrong turns, she found her way to the right door. There was a guard standing there, with a halberd held at the ready, but he lifted it when he saw her.
“He’s expecting ye, Emer,” the guard said, recognizing her from the times she brought meals down to the guardhouse, “dinnae look so scared lass, he’ll nae eat ye.”
I wouldnae bet on it. But I promise I will give him as good as he hands out-he deserves it anyway-what kind o’ man cannae take a bit of harmless criticism?
She turned the handle and went inside.
Emer did not know what to expect when she walked on shaking legs to where Caillen sat behind the huge desk. He was scribbling something down but did not dip his quill back into the inkstand when he glanced up and saw who had entered. Instead, he placed the quill down and lifted the parchment to his face to blow on the ink. It was the perfect opportunity for Emer to take her measure of the man.
He did not have to be standing for her to see he was every bit as tall and muscular as she remembered from his visit to the kitchen. His hair was dark brown, full and thick, but tied back neatly into a twisted knot at the base of his neck. A single strand had managed to escape the knot and fell over his brow, giving him a romantic appearance in keeping with the rest of his clothing. The shirt at his neck was open, with neither bow or ruffle to adorn it, and the white cambric was so light it was possible to see the outline of his chest through the fabric. It looked as though he had trimmed his beard back that morning, and it lay close to his firm jawline and determined chin.
Emer braced herself for his words but could not hold back the scolding she had promised herself she would give him.
“I want ye to be the only one to clean this room from now on..., what’s yer name again?” said Caillen.
“It’s yer own fault ye overheard what I said in the kitchen-and I stand by what I said, except for maybe the part about yer brither!” Emer spoke in a rush at the same time Caillen was talking.
Caillen stopped what he was about to say, and a wide grin replaced the frown he’d had on his face when Emer had walked in, “It seems ye’re laboring under a slight delusion. I asked ye here to give ye more work, but it seems ye dinnae like the idea.”
He pushed his chair back and tilted it onto its hind legs, placing his hands leisurely behind his head and looking at Emer with raised eyebrows.
Never in her life had Emer been more flustered. She blushed, looked down at the floor, and then back up at Caillen.
“Forgive me, me Laird, I thought ye called me here to let me go. Ye heard all those things I said about ye in the kitchen, so I naturally thought ye questioned me loyalty to ye.”
Caillen smiled, “That’s where ye’re wrong-whatisyer name for goodness’ sake, lass?” and after Emer had told him her name, he continued, “Emer, aye, right. I want ye here for meself,” seeing Emer’s eyes widen, Caillen rushed to clarify his wishes, “What I mean is, I want onlyyeto look after things in the library from now on: cleaning, meals, and scraping out the fireplace. And me own bedchamber too, now that I come to think of it!”
“But what about me work in the kitchen?” Emer was already working from dawn to dusk and did not like the idea of adding to her workload, “Cannae someone else do it?”
“Ye hit the nail on the head, lass when ye asked if I question yer loyalties. I do nae such a thing. That’s why I want ye...to work around me. I’ll let them ken down in the kitchen; they must give ye time for it, dinnae fash,” Caillen rocked back and forth on his tilted chair and looked at Emer out of half-closed eyes. There was something about this girl that inspired trust in him. Maybe it was her bravery in telling him her thoughts without fearing the consequences. Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled with passion when she stood her ground. Caillen found her fascinating over and beyond the fact she was above suspicion.
“There’s been some complications regarding secrets and lies at the Maclachlan keep lately,” Caillen told Emer, and he immediately felt better for having shared his doubts and fears with someone who could not be involved, “It began afore yer time, so I ken ye’re the only one who cannae have had anything to do with it. By the way, I’m sorry for yer recent loss. Let me ken if there’s anything I can do to help ye. I’ll add another two pounds to yer wages for the help ye’re giving me.”
To have her fortune change so suddenly took the words right out of Emer’s mouth. She stood there on the library’s thick carpet and stared at Caillen as though she expected him to change his mind.
Caillen was charmed by Emer’s large brown eyes gazing at him in disbelief. Her pretty rosebud mouth had dropped into a perfect “oh” shape, and when she finally reacted to his order by bobbing a curtsey, it set the soft curls clustered around her head a-bouncing.
“I thank ye most kindly for this..., yer forgiveness, me Laird. I promise to nae let ye down,” Emer stuttered, dying to go back downstairs and tell Davinia the good news.
