Ducking her head, she pushed her way back out to the common room and delivered the ale to the impatient shepherd who had been waiting for it. Ailean hadn’t taken a seat with the crabbers. Instead, he’d moved over to the far side of the common room, where a group of men sat at a booth. He was talking to them, and she was grateful his attention was elsewhere.
She then returned hurriedly to the kitchen. “We need another mutton, another supper, and an ale,” she informed Eithne, helping herself to more ale from a barrel. “The chieftain’s son is here.”
Eithne’s gaze glinted. “Is that why ye’re flustered? I heard Ailean Maclean rode in this morning. The whole village is talking about how he’s going to rebuild the old tower. It’s about time too. Although I have to say, it’s a strange task to give one man alone.”
It was indeed bizarre, to say the least. But Fiona didn’t want to dwell on it. She didn’t want to dwell onhimeither.
Waiting while Eithne dished up more mutton and bread, she took the trencher in one hand and a tankard of frothy ale in the other. She then drew in a deep breath and made her way back out into the common room.
One of the men had pulled out a Highland pipe and was now blasting out a rousing tune by the hearth, tapping his foot as hewent. A few of the cottars around him had started to sing, their voices creating a din in the small, smoky space.
The noise and distraction were welcome.
She made her way across to where Ailean had pulled up a chair next to the men he was talking to and set his supper down with a thud. “That’ll be a copper.”
Breaking off his conversation, Ailean glanced up. He dug into his coin purse—which she noticed was bulging—and extracted two coins.
“I said just one,” she said, frowning.
“The other’s for ye, lass,” he replied with a half-smile.
Reaching out, she made a point of taking just one. “I don’t want yer charity,” she replied coldly, aware now that the other men at the table were watching her with unabashed interest.
She was making a bit of a scene, but her blood was up, and she didn’t care.
How dare this man walk in here, throw her a copper, and think he could make things right? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The sight of him reminded her of how he’d just stood there, silent and tongue-tied, while his father shamed them both.
Not waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and stalked off.
A few whistles and catcalls followed her.
“That’s it, lass,” one of the shepherds at a nearby table called out. “Ye show Maclean who’s master here.”
Her cheeks burned, sweat sliding down her back.
She wanted to snarl at the shepherd. She wanted to snarl at them all. She was sick of being humiliated. Tired to her bones of it.
She wanted to run from this tavern and keep running until she left it all behind her. But stubbornness dug in its heels. She’d already been cast from Dounarwyse because of him, and she wouldn’t leaveThe Shepherd’s Crookon his account as well.
A long evening followed. She’d hoped Ailean would eat his supper, down his ale, and leave. But he didn’t. Instead, he spoke to several men, clearly making connections and organizing things. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he handed over coin and extracted promises.
It was quieter in the common room now. A few patrons had gone home to their wives and bairns, resting up before another day of hard work. Eithne was serving a fresh round of ales to a group of men dicing in the center of the room, and Fiona was wiping down tables.
“Can we talk, Fiona?” She jumped before turning to find Ailean standing right behind her. “Just for … a few moments.”
“I’m busy.”
“Ye can take a few moments for yerself. Ye haven’t stopped all evening,” Eithne called out, waving her away. “Go on. Those tables can keep.”
Panic bloomed under Fiona’s ribs. She knew Eithne meant kindness, but she wasn’t helping. Unfortunately, the few remaining patrons were already watching; to refuse now would make a spectacle of it.
She threw down her damp cloth and pushed past Ailean toward the door.
The cool evening air caressed her face as she stepped outside. The slow gloaming settled over Mull, violet and gold. The last light shimmered across the still Sound. Somewhere nearby, a woman laughed, the sound bright and careless.
Fiona felt none of it.
She wanted to hit something.
