Adaira pulled a basket from the pantry and frowned into it. Blair grinned at the expression. Adaira was the type of lass who wore a smile like she wore her nose or freckles, without thought and ever present. A frown looked like a comical mask on the shorter woman’s beautiful, round face.
Then Adaira glanced over her shoulder, out the window slit in the kitchens where pale light seeped through and brightened the room.
“Radishes are in low supply, but I’m certain we have some in the gardens. I’ll have Mairi gather those. Garlic, though . . .” Adaira tapped at her teeth with her fingertip. “’Tis better if gathered wild. Do ye ride?”
“Aye,” Blair said slowly. “Why?”
Adaira set the basket back on the shelf. “Once we finish here, we can ride to the woods. Wild garlic leaves grow best in the deeper woods where the ground is yet damp. The day is a fine one for riding, do ye think?”
Going past the gate? Riding in the woods? Having a moment away from the newness and busy-ness of her strange home and perchance a quiet moment to herself? Blair couldn’t agree quickly enough.
“Aye,” she answered, her face relaxing at the prospect of a ride. “I can ride the palfrey easily enough.”
Adaira’s lips curled into her familiar smile, and she nodded at Blair. “Aye. Me too. I’ll have Flint saddle our horses once we’re done and let him know where we are going. Father will have my hide if I left without notice.”
If Adaira was hinting, she did it well and Blair caught on. Adaira was offering her an afternoon of limited freedom, but that was it – an afternoon and limited. If Blair still harbored any ideas of running away, the MacDonalds would know where she was.
Blair returned Adaira’s soft smile. “I’ll retrieve a sack to carry the garlic,” she said, hoping Adaira understood her meaning, that Blair’s only intention was to return.
Adaira nodded and returned to the pantry. “Come, let’s hurry so we dinna miss the daylight.”
Adaira rode ahead formost of their journey until they were deep in the woods. The tree branches had begun their colorful spring bloom, so the sun was still bright even this far into the trees.
Blair inhaled deeply as they rode, letting the crisp, clear air fill her chest. The air was chilly but not cold, and the wind that found every opening in her plaid arasaid was refreshing, harbingering that spring would warm the land and lead to summer.
As she hadn’t really left the keep since she’d arrived, other than to traverse the courtyard or work in the gardens in the shadow of the MacDonald stronghold, this ride made her feel freer than she had in months. Nay, years.
Adaira chatted over her shoulder for the entire ride. Oh, but the lass could talk, and she had an opinion or a rumor for every topic they touched on. How did the lass learn so much when she lived in the same keep as Blair, and Blair had heard little over the past weeks?
The ground grew soft, sucking at the horses’ hooves, and Adaira selected a spot near a low-branched tree to slide from her saddle.
“Here. ‘Twill be easier for us to find. Ye know what to look for?” Adaira asked as she wrapped her reins around the nearest low-hanging oak branch.
Blair shook her head. If it didn’t grow in a garden, she couldn’t recognize it.
“Weel, ye look for a plant that is low to the ground, growing like a burst of light. The leaves we are collecting are slender, bright green, and pointy at the tip. ‘Tis early, but a cluster of small white flowers grow in the center, like there!”
Adaira pointed excitedly and reached down to the very plant she described. Her deft fingers tugged at the leaves that readily gave up clinging to the dirt. She sniffed the plant and crinkled her nose.
“Collect the larger leaves around the edge. Newer growth doesna taste as good.”
Blair nodded and with her sack tucked under her arm, moved to the other side of the wood, studying the ground. The gentle spring breeze billowed in her skirts, making them catch around her ankles. She lifted the hem and picked her way through the brush. When she found what she thought was garlic, she bent low, tugged at the leaves, and brought them to Adaira.
“Aye! That’s it! Let’s try to collect as much as we can through here. The more we have, the more we can dry and ‘twill keep for months.”
Blair obeyed Adaira’s directions and worked her way through the trees. The garlic plants splayed rather far apart, and before she realized it, she had woven her way through the trees to where she could no longer see or hear Adaira. The distance didn’t concern Blair overmuch. With the bright sun hanging low in the west, she could head in a northerly direction to find the horses.
Her sack was two-thirds full as Blair crouched down and crept around the trees. Not every plant had blooming flowers yet, so she had to study each plant that resembled garlic. Mayhap if —
A snap of a twig made her stay her hand where she crouched. That sound, it didn’t come from the north where Adaira worked. Nay, it came from the south, Blair was sure of it. Strangers. MacDonalds?
Three men came around a cluster of trees. The stout man in the lead drew his horse up and slid off his steed with an unexpected ease for so rotund a man.
Their tartans were filthy, but the dirt didn’t hide the dulled, blue-green Campbell plaids.
Blair’s blood pounded in her head, and she swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that formed in her throat.
What could they want? Why were they here? Wasn’t this MacDonald land?
