The bread was hard, but she chewed and swallowed with the beginnings of relief.
“Where is the wine?” she asked.
Hamish gave a little shrug, his eyes glinting. “Mayhap in the cellar. There is a jug of ale, milady.”
Isabella had never relished the taste of ale. But thirst drove her to pour some of the brown liquid into a nearby tankard.
Has he deliberately brought up the meanest fare and cheapest crockery?
Isabella scanned the table and concluded that yes, he probably had.
But the ale tasted surprisingly good and she refilled the tankard and drank again. Then she spread a hunk of bread withbutter and ate it quickly. Only after she had swallowed the last crumb did she realize that she was still standing beside the table.
And the highlander was watching her every move.
Isabella pulled out a chair and sank into it, crossing her legs at the ankle and attempting to recover her dignity.
“Are there no berries? No cheese?” She motioned toward the table, which was set with only bread, butter, and some unidentifiable cold meat. She shuddered at the smell of it.
Hamish came to stand at the opposite end of the table. He sloshed some ale into a fresh tankard and drained it in one gulp.
“Ye ken where the kitchen is located?”
Not since squabbling with her siblings in the schoolroom had anyone spoken to her so bluntly.
She met the challenge in his eyes with one of her own. “Not really.”
His lips quirked as if hiding a smile. “’Tis back there.” He motioned behind him.
Isabella sat back in her wooden chair and twisted a ring about her finger, affecting a bewildered nonchalance. “What of it?”
“I do not have ye held in chains. Ye can go yerself and look for whatever it is ye fancy.”
He is baiting me again.
Isabella did not allow herself to dwell on the idea of being held in chains. Surely he would not dare!
“I am askingyouto fetch the berries and the cheese,” she said instead, slowly and clearly. “And whatever else you can find. Surely more than this.” She wrinkled her nose with displeasure.
Surprise blanketed his features for a moment. Then came an expression that Isabella could not properly place.
“Mayhap ye would like to take charge, milady?
It was amusement that glinted across his eyes, Isabella realized. Hamish was enjoying this.
And so am I.
Isabella splayed her fingers onto the edge of the table, allowing the winter sunlight to illuminate her jewels.
“I have never worked in a kitchen,” she confessed.
Yet it was not entirely true. She had stood beside her sisters and learned to bake at an early age, impatient to eat the honey cakes from the moment they came out of the big ovens. Her mother had insisted they all knew the workings of a house and kitchen. But then she had married young and moved to Westchester Hall, where everything ran smoothly without any intervention from her.
Isabella could not recall the last time she had set foot in any kitchen.
My purpose is purely decorative, she thought dryly.
She looked quickly at Hamish, half inclined to vocalize this conclusion and wondering if he might laugh in appreciation.
