“You could stay here, Roses,” Christie said, following my thoughts. “You may have no choice in the matter, in fact, if Wilkie gets his way.”
Kinloch, with its vast, carefully tended fields bursting with abundance, with its order and its warmth: it was the most inviting place I had ever seen or imagined. Ogilvie’s assessment of Laird Mackenzie was less threatening to me, too, now that I’d met him for myself. The laird was gruff, aye, but he seemed fair, and I hadn’t detected cruelty in his manner, even if he was as intimidating as any man I had ever met. Kade was not at all as severe as he had been described, although the descriptions of his armory had hardly done it justice. That the Mackenzies had so far shown me tolerance only added to Kinloch’s appeal. Wilkie’s sisters, to be sure, were some of the kindest, most welcoming people I had ever met. And all these details were only a crown to the most urgent desire I had ever known: Wilkie.
But the decision of whether I would stay or go could ultimately be made by only one person: Laird Mackenzie, who was, for now, indulging his brother’s peculiar new obsession. I detected in the laird’s manner that he was hopeful that Wilkie’s affliction would soon wear off, that Wilkie would keep me in his bed until he tired of me. I had a strong feeling that if he could talk some sense into his delusional brother, Laird Mackenzie would likely order me away at his first opportunity.
“What doyouwant, Roses?” I detected in Christie’s repeated question a prod for confirmation, as though she had Wilkie’s interests in mind and was concerned about the suddenness and strength of his reactions to me.
And I could assure her in this way without hesitation. It was an easy question to answer. I wanted Wilkie to come back to me, to lie with me, to kiss me again. To make me cry and fly and burn with his beautiful, insistent, stunning touches. And I wanted to pleasure him, too, as he had done to me. I knew there was much more to these touches than what he had so far given me.
I was curious.
And I was willing.
My desires surprised me with their vehemence.
“I wanthim,” I whispered.
Aye, what Iwantedwas Wilkie Mackenzie. Something I knew I could never have.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AILIEARRIVED. SHEWASdressed in a cream-colored gown of an unusual design, with half sleeves and a fitted section at the waist of a different, light green material, which flattered her slim figure. Ailie’s hair had escaped its bindings, and curling wisps of it framed her face, giving her a young, carefree look that was slightly removed from her usual poise and elegance.
She noticed my outfit right away, pulling me gently by the hand so I was standing before her, and she circled me, taking in all the finer details of my outfit, as though responsible for making sure all was exactly as it should be.
“You look beautiful, Roses,” she said. “The gown fits you well. Here, though, let me adjust the waist. ’Tis a wee bit looser than I intended.” She pulled a needle and thread from a small bag she wore, I would learn, almost always. She began to sew at the mid seam at the back of the dress. With my hair tied up, I was glad I had checked to make sure my tattoo was securely covered by the dress.
“You’ll get used to it, Roses,” said Christie. “She adjusts people’s clothing all the time and is, in fact, sought out by all the ladies of the clan for her flair with tailoring. ’Tis her obsession, though, so we humor her.”
“Humor me, indeed, dear sister. Who was it thatwoke me at an early hour this morning to seek my advice and my skill when in fact you were assigned as Roses’s chaperone and were instructed to check in on her on a regular basis?”
I felt the color rise to my cheeks immediately. I was devoutly grateful that Christie’s attentions had been otherwise diverted.
“Aye, well, here I am now, and look, she’s fine,” said Christie. “Wilkie’s up and about and Roses didn’t need a chaperone at all, did you, Roses? When I found her, she was confined to the antechamber alone.”
“Perhaps Roses needs anewchaperone, and one that’s not quite so easily distracted,” Ailie said. “There,” she added, satisfied that the adjustments were suitably executed. “Much better.” She smoothed my dress into place and eyed the garment critically. “She won’t need a chaperone except at night, soon, anyway. Wilkie will no doubt return to training today or tomorrow, and Roses will be busy with Effie. We’ve been instructed to take you to the healing quarters now, Roses. Has Knox told you that that’s to be your cover, while you’re here at Kinloch? To distract rumors. We thought we might say you hail from the Macduff clan, and that you’re a healing apprentice, since you do have some skill.”
“Aye,” said Christie. “Since it’s the farthest lands from our own, few of our clanspeople have any association with the Macduffs, so any gossip will likely fade away before it can be confirmed.”
I nodded. “The laird informed me,” I said. “I’ll be honored to be Effie’s apprentice, and I hope I can be useful to her.”
The sisters led me down the hall, and we descended a back staircase. I couldn’t help noticing once again theclean, orderly appearance of every aspect of the Mackenzie manor. The candles that lit the staircase had even been scented, and a citrus and spice flavor lingered in the air. We walked down a dimly lit hallway, where several chambermaids passed us, carrying fresh sheets. They eyed me curiously.
I guessed that we were nearing the healing quarters; I could smell the medicinal herbs and treatments even outside the open door.
The healing quarters were large, astoundingly well stocked and admirably well organized.
I wished I could have shown these quarters to Ismay, they were so very impressive. Ismay’s work area included a small corner of the kitchen, where she had only several small tables to prepare her medicines. Here, separate chambers housed several beds where injured or infirmed patients could be attended to, but the Ogilvie healing chambers were cramped and somewhat dismal—not at all a pleasant place to coalesce. And they had been inconveniently located, being several minutes’ walk from the kitchen area.
In comparison, these Mackenzie healing quarters were clean, comfortable, spacious and gave the impression that the infirmed were in decidedly good care. The walls were lined with thoroughly crowded shelves, crammed neatly with bottles, jars, books and instruments. Tables in the middle of the room were used for mixing and preparing medicines and tinctures, where several bubbled away on various heating devices. And the far end of the room was arranged with three currently unoccupied beds.
Effie was already there, and she looked up from her recipe book, noticing immediately my new look, andthe dress I wore. She spent several seconds surveying my body. “Well, well. The coveted Wilkie Mackenzie has finally met his match,” she said enigmatically.
Christie and Ailie took their leave for a time, to oversee the preparations for the visitors who were due to arrive next week. I spent much of the day discussing recipes with Effie, who I found to be patient and exceedingly knowledgeable. I shared with her my healing paste recipe. She was mildly surprised that I was unable to read or write, but not overly so; many servants, after all, were not taught.
“I’d like you to make me a batch of that paste, lass, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said.
I assured her that I would be more than willing.
