Caillen held up his hand to stop her from leaving, “Be a good lass and keep yer eyes and ears peeled for anyone asking questions about the Maclachlan doings. And when ye’re in here, and I’m nae, dinnae allow anyone access, if the guards have left their post.”
“Aye, me Laird, of course I will.”
And on those words, Emer gave one last curtsey and left, leaving Caillen with the impression that he had found the perfect ally.
Chapter Eight
The guard knew to let Emer into the library when she arrived at the door with a bowl of steaming porridge on a tray in her hands the following morning.
“He’s been in there since before cock’s crow,” was all he said as he lifted his halberd and let Emer through.
Emer had her head bent and the tiniest tip of her tongue sticking out one side of her mouth as she concentrated on bringing Caillen his meal without spilling or dropping it.
“Thank ye, put it down on the desk,” he said without looking up.
She tried to do it as silently as she could, but she did not notice the quill sticking up in the way of the tray. The corner of the tray caught the end of the feather and sent the quill flipping out of the inkpot and onto the desk, where it lay with a rapidly spreading puddle of black ink leaking from the nib.
“Whoops,” was all Emer could think to say. It was a word her family and friends had become used to hearing over the years.
Caillen put down the parchment he was reading and looked down at the inkblot.
“I forgot to pull the drapes back when the sun rose, Emer. What ye be a dear an’ do that for me? It’s as dark as a coal mine in here.”
She hurried to do his bidding. Light flooded into the room, and Emer could not help but stand in front of the large bay window, staring out at the beautiful Highland morn with pleasure.
“It’s glorious, is nae it?” A deep voice said behind her. Emer gave a little jump when she turned and saw Caillen standing so close behind her.
“Um...aye, it is. Can I get ye anything else from the kitchens this morning, me Laird? There’s bannocks and freshly baked bread and ale...” Emer felt strange with a man so close to her. It reminded her of that never to be forgotten feast night when the dark stranger had held her so tightly. She almost closed her eyes, better to remember the musky smell of lavender again.
Caillen gave one last look outside at the heather-covered hills and then turned back to his desk, “Some ale would be nice, Emer. I’m comin’ by the kitchens later-I need to ask the staff some questions, but I’ll nae see ye there.”
Emer raised her eyebrows at this statement.
Why would I nae be in the kitchens when Caillen comes down? Does he have some other task for me?
As if reading her mind, he said, “I want ye to join Mistress Burrough’s staff-and work upstairs with me from now on. She has me orders and will tell ye what to do. Go to her parlor after ye’ve fetched the ale, lass.”
Emer was becoming more used to Caillen’s abrupt commands and conversations the more time she spent with him. She knew by now he was a man born to bark out orders and would not take kindly to them being disobeyed. But at the same time, he had a wicked sense of humor and could see the funny side in the most awkward encounters, such as the jape he’d played on her the night of the feast. Working for him was going to be interesting.
She returned to the kitchen in a bit of a dream. She poured the mug of ale from the large jug on the workbench, specially kept there for when the kitchen heated up during the preparation of dinner and then went to find Davinia.
“It’s official. I’m to report to Mistress Burroughs for work this morning-only doing his Lairdship’s rooms,” Emer whispered to her sister and then waited for her to finish what she was doing so they could go and tell Cook together.
Davinia did not begrudge her sister her good fortune. Both girls kept foremost in their minds the horrific circumstances that had led to Emer coming lately to work at the castle in the first place. The two girls needed all the luck that came their way if they wanted to build a new home for themselves here in the castle.
After hearing Caillen’s order for Emer to work upstairs, Cook tried to take the news well.
“I’ll miss yer help around here, Emer, that’s for sure, but I dinnae begrudge ye yer new position, and I had the good foresight to write all yer cooking suggestions in me receipt book. I always said ye deserved to be upstairs-what with the fine education yer mither gave both ye girls.”
“Thank ye, Mistress Drummond. Ye will still be seein’ me at every chance I have. I want to come and help Davi with her tasks.”
Cook shooed her away and told the spit roast boy to go with her to make sure she did not get lost, finding the upstairs staff room after delivering his Lairdship’s ale.
Mistress Burroughs, a formidable lady who ruled the castle keep household with an iron fist since Lady Maclachlan had passed away in childbirth many years before, gave Emer a most gracious welcome to her new post.
“The Laird says ye are to wear the finest cambric undergarments, open-fronted bodice with a dark open round gown, and contrasting petticoats, an outfit such as I wear meself. Ye can pin a small lace cap at the top o’ yer hair and cover yer neckline with a linen or lace kerchief or fichu.”
Emer knew the clothing she was being handed by the housekeeper well; they were the same kind of robes she had worn indoors when she had lived at the farm. She suppressed a small pang of sorrow, thanked Mistress Burroughs, and went to her bedchamber to change.
