“This horse needs to be rubbed down, fed, and watered. See to her. Also, we’ll be distilling on the morrow. See to it the still is hot by mid-morn.”
The two apprentices scrambled to tug breeches on and climb down the ladder, murmuring their understanding of the instructions.
“Whose horse is this?” Samuel asked as he peered up at the mare and collected the reins from Hannah’s hands, while Thomas began readying grain.
“Never ye mind,” Hannah responded, after briefly debating whether it was wise to alarm them with the truth. “Good lads, thank ye.”
She patted Samuel on the shoulder and then left the stable, sure they would see Liath properly relieved of her tack and put abed in the stall her own pony usually occupied.
Satisfied with the solution, Hannah strode back to the cottage and ducked through the front door, only to find herself face-to-face with Aiden.
“Oh.” She hesitated for a moment, not sure why she’d assumed he’d just do as he was told and go to bed. After a moment, she skirted around him and opened the door to her room, gesturing. “In here.”
“I figured that when ye pointed at the door,” Aiden drawled, but followed her into the room.
It was nearly identical to Violet’s. When they’d been younger, both sisters had shared the bedroom Violet now slept in alone. A few months after their parents’ death, Hannah had decided it was silly to waste the space and had moved into their room.
The space held a modest box bed built into the wall, a small table beside it, and a trunk along the wall. It was warm from the ambient heat of the hearth and the thick walls her father had seen to when the cottage was being built.
“It’s nae over large,” she said sheepishly as she approached the sleeping alcove. “But it should hold ye fine, and it’s warm.”
She turned back the blankets, thanking her stars she’d been of a mind to make up her bedclothes nicely before she’d left that morning, and then turned to Aiden.
“What are ye doing?” He had removed his belt and placed it and his sword against the wall, and was unwinding his plaid, leaving him in his tunic and trews, before spreading the wool on the floor. He glanced up as he rolled a portion of it into a pillow and sat down on it to remove his boots. “I’ll nae be takin’ a lady’s bed.”
“I’m nay lady.”
“Lass, if anyone hears that I let a woman sleep on the floor in her own home, I’ll be quartered. Now, get yerself in bed. It’s late, and I’m nae arguin’ with ye.”
Hannah hesitated, watching as he very pointedly draped his plaid over himself, making it clear he had no intention to move again until morning.
Finally, she shook her head and removed her boots, placing them tidily beside the small table. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Aiden and his closed eyes, and then turned her back and unlaced her kirtle, before carefully hanging the heavy garment on the peg beside her bed.
Now wearing only her stockings and shift, she glanced over her shoulder, saw Aiden’s eyes were still closed, and clambered into the bed, tugging the blankets up to her chin.
A long silence ensued, before she asked as conversationally and as calmly as she could, “Are ye comfortable?”
The silence stretched for a moment more, then she heard a rustle.
Aiden lifted his head, glancing toward her in the dim light still coming from the nearby hearth that she’d purposely neglected to bank for the night. “Why do ye care, lassie?”
“I’m being a good host!” Hannah retorted defensively. “At least, I’m tryin’. Ye seem intent on making it difficult for me. If I’m a poor host, who kens what ye might do? I’d rather ye nae kill me.”
He pushed up onto his elbow and stared at her. “Come again? Why would I do that?” He frowned at her and shook his head. “What exactly do ye and yer neighbors think I am?”
Hannah pushed up onto her elbow as well, studying him while considering her response. After a moment, she chose to speak bluntly. “Ye’re a man who doesnae mind killing. Ye risked the lives of those around ye to wrest power for yerself, so ye could rule the clan.”
The silence stretched again, this time far less companionable. She could feel the tension in the air, and she swallowed hardagainst a dry throat, beginning to question the wisdom of speaking quite so freely.
“Is that untrue?” she ventured.
“Aye, lass. That is patently untrue.” His voice was rough.
“Then tell me. What is the truth? Why do ye nae tell people the truth?” She could feel her heart thudding in her throat again.
Aiden sighed and dropped onto his back once more.
Her heart returned to her chest, and she slowly lay back down, still watching him as she rested her cheek against the roll of fabric that served as her pillow.
