Page 41 of The Return of the Heir

Every question she asked brought a fresh rush of blood to pulse through her ears, making her feel a little dizzy. She squared her shoulders and continued on, shifting her thoughts from what was at stake to the past they’d shared. His father had swept her and her siblings away from death and destruction and had given them a new life at Dunvegan. Their world had suddenly been filled with light and possibility and hope. And while she and Alastair had both been young at the time, there had always been an awareness between them.

Over the years, they had exchanged youthful smiles and awkward conversations. Every time he had looked at her, her nerves had jumbled in her stomach. At the sound of his voice, her heart had fluttered madly in her chest. But it was one particular evening they’d shared that came to mind.

They had found themselves at the shore of the loch at dusk. Alastair had invited her to sit with him on one of the large rocks. Side by side, they had stared up at the darkening sky in silence until it had turned from grey to black. When the stars came out overhead, she had known it was time to go. The thought of leaving him, of ending this interlude, had made her feel a moment of panic. “I don’t want to leave. . .” she’d said, then realizing she’d said the words aloud, she’d pulled away and stood, terrified by what he must think of her. She held her breath, waiting for him to call her “mad” or “childish.”

Instead of deriding her, Alastair had given her a smile that had warmed her clear to her toes and said, “Then don’t. Stay with me.” He’d patted the surface of the rock once more. “Stay with me. . .always.”

Gwendolyn hadn’t known what it felt like to love someone until that moment. That emotion had swept through her, filling her soul in a way it had never been filled before. As she sat back down, he had taken her hand in his and had stared down at her.

There was an intensity in his gaze that had stolen her breath. “You are sweet, Gwendolyn Harris. And I like you very much.”

She’d given him a trembling smile and had locked that moment away in her heart as her affection for him had turned to love. They had been engaged weeks later, and on her wedding day she’d felt as though she couldn’t live without him by her side.

Yet fate, and Garrick MacDonald, had had other plans. And over the course of the last five years, time and circumstance had tempered them and their feelings for each other. She didn’t blame him for what had happened. And she didn’t blame Alastair for moving on with his life.

But he had moved on.

A prior betrothal could not eradicate that fact. It was time for both of them to face the truth. What they once had was over. Her steps faltered as she entered the kitchen as an overwhelming sense of loss came over her. The bustling activity in the kitchen drew her attention as she regained her footing.

Two serving girls worked around a big table in the center of the chamber. One kneaded bread while the other sliced various vegetables into chunks. A young man stood at the hearth, turning the spit. Mrs Honey’s back was to the door upon Gwendolyn’s entrance as she set a tray of baked goods upon a table near the oven to cool. She wiped her hands on her apron and turned, then paused.

“Hello, dearie. It is good tae see yer face around here once more,” Mrs Honey greeted Gwendolyn with a smile. “Yer just in time tae taste a fresh batch of apple pasties I just pulled from the oven.” She scooped a pastry onto a plate.

Gwendolyn started to object until the sweet and savoury scent of the small pies touched her senses. “They smell divine.” It had been so long since she’d had such a treat. When Mrs Honey handed her a small plate with a warm, aromatic treat, Gwendolyn could not find the will to object. Instead, she found herself perching on a stool near the oven and popped a small piece of the flaky pastry into her mouth.

Her taste buds erupted, and she groaned her pleasure. “That is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Mrs Honey.” She took another big bite and tried to keep from groaning again.

The cook’s smile brightened her face. “Did ye come here wantin’ a morsel tae eat, or can I help ye with somethin’ else?”

Gwendolyn finished off the delicacy and set the plate in her lap. She searched the chamber for other young women, but there were only the two at the table in sight. “Is this the entire kitchen staff?” Gwendolyn asked.

“Other than the pantler, butler, and poulterer, it is just me and the scullery maids.” She arched a brow. “How can we be of service?”

Neither of the maids matched the description the men had given. “I’ve been away so long, I was just looking around the castle, trying to remember it all.”

“Oh, dearie,” she said with understanding. “Take all the time ye need tae reacquaint yerself with this old castle. Feel free tae come visit me anytime. I always have treats fer my favourites.”

Gwendolyn was surprised by how at ease she felt with the cook. They’d worked together on occasion before, but only briefly as Gwendolyn had been introduced to the tasks of running the household. The relaxed sensations she felt now went beyond those tasks to a more personal level. It was as if Mrs Honey understood the dangers Gwendolyn had navigated over the past five years. Perhaps the cook had gone through a similar challenge in her life. They were both survivors. “Thank you, Mrs Honey. Would you consider teaching me how to cook?” If she were to leave the castle with her siblings, she needed a few basic skills to see her through.

If the woman was surprised by the request, she did not show it. “Of course. I would be delighted.” She took the now empty plate from Gwendolyn. “Come back tomorrow and we will start with making bread.”

Gwendolyn stood. “Until tomorrow then.” She made her way to the door, feeling a new sense of contentedness. She had not discovered who might have doused the men’s ale with laudanum, but she had gained yet another friend amongst the members of this household.