Lifting her chin defiantly in the air, she cocked her head to the side. “I think I would know if…”
As if summoned by his words, the handle snapped. The basket tumbled from her grasp, spilling herbs across the ground.
Callum chuckled to himself, but made no move to help her.
Eleanor stared at him in horror, her mouth agape. “Daenae laugh at me.”
Her anger only made him chuckle deeper as he shook his head. “Ye spent an entire week attempting to conquer this castle, lass, and thus far ye have managed to lose a battle against bannocks, wool, a lamb, and now rosemary.”
“It isnae my fault that the baskets in yer castle are nae sturdy.” She bent down in a huff and began to gather the scattered herbs.
“Aye, naturally it is the basket’s fault,” Callum continued to tease her.
Muttering under her breath, she gathered the herbs into bunches and stuffed them back into the basket, smashing some of the stems as she worked. To her great surprise, Callum hunkered down beside her and began to help her.
“I am serious,” she muttered. “Everyone here knows exactly what they are doing. They know one another's names, histories, and habits. They know where everything belongs... Including where to find the good baskets or how to work the wool.”
“And ye daenae ken where the good baskets are kept?” Callum asked her gently.
“Nae, I daenae ken where the good baskets are kept. I found this one by the kitchen doors. It was more than likely placed there because the handle was broken.” She attempted to keep her voice even as she tried to hide the fact that her feelings had been hurt.
The admission escaped before she could stop it.
What was I thinkin’?
She reminded herself that she should have stayed in the study and continued working on finding Andrew, but instead, she had ventured beyond her comfort zone and was now crouched in the dirt.
For a moment, Callum's teasing expression softened as his hand brushed against hers over a fresh stalk of rosemary.
Eleanor carefully tucked a handful of rosemary back into the basket, making as if she had not noticed the subtle contact that had sent a jolt up her arm. Too much had happened between them already, and she was not willing to admit that he affected her whenever she was near.
“I feel like a guest who has overstayed her welcome.” She finally sat back on her haunches and looked at him, needing something else to do other than feel sorry for herself.
Callum was quiet as he reached down and picked up a sprig of thyme and held it up. “What is this?” He twirled the stem between his fingers and thumb.
“Thyme,” Eleanor answered with a heavy sigh. It was a good thing that she knew a thing or two about running her father’s house, or she would have been completely in the dark about what the names of the herbs actually were.
He nodded thoughtfully before pointing to another sprig on the ground. “And that?”
“Rosemary…” She said with an air of uncertainty, not because she did not know, but because she was not certain of what he was doing.
“And that?” He moved his finger over to the side and gestured to a yellow flower.
She glanced down. “That would be a weed that I picked by accident.”
“Aye.” He nodded thoughtfully before picking it up and tossing it over his shoulder. “See? Ye are learning.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “That is hardly the same thing.”
“It is exactly the same thing.” Callum locked eyes with her over the basket, making heat rise to her cheeks.
She looked at him skeptically.
Callum sat back on his heels. “When I was ten years old, I fell into the loch trying to impress me father.”
A laugh escaped her. ‘Ye did?” She searched his face, recalling the stories of her father that he had told her in the cabin before…She quickly shook off the thought and focused on what he was saying.
“Aye, I never felt like more of a disappointment than that day.”
