Page 58 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

Oscar settled him against his chest and looked over Tommy’s shoulder at Ceana. “I will make sure that ye daenae destroy the kitchen in the process.”

Paisley slipped her hand into Ceana’s.

Oscar glanced once toward the eastern ridge, then turned around. “Let’s go home.”

CHAPTER 15

Oscar crossed the kitchen threshold behind Ceana and Paisley, still carrying Tommy.

Ceana hiked up her skirts and went straight to the worktable. “Warm water and clean linen, please.”

The cook stopped midway through an instruction. The kitchen maids fell silent too when they spotted Oscar. He usually came to the kitchen for storage or to give an urgent order.

“Carry on,” he ordered, setting Tommy on a sturdy stool.

The boy saw the honey pot warming near the fireplace and began to wriggle. “I can stand, Da. Me knee feels better now.”

“A better knee can still be washed,” Ceana said. She kneeled with a bowl of warm water and pressed a damp cloth to the scrape. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“There.” Tommy gripped the stool.

Ceana paused for a moment, then gently cleaned the last of the dirt from the wound. Once she had tied clean linen around his knee, she rose and faced the cook.

“What can the kitchen spare for one batch of honeyed bannocks?”

“We have oatmeal and flour enough for a modest batch,” the cook replied. “Warm milk as well, me Lady. I can spare butter and honey to finish them.”

“Then we shall make do handsomely.” Ceana rolled her sleeves to her forearms.

Flour and oatmeal went into a wooden bowl. She rubbed butter through the oatmeal, then added warm milk while Tommy stirred from his stool. She laughed when he claimed the spoon as the rightful reward for his suffering and also warned him that his injured knee didn’t mean he had any more rights than usual over the bannocks.

Paisley watched from beyond the worktable.

“Can ye shape them evenly and judge when they require turnin’?” Ceana asked.

“I have helped the cook before.”

“Good. Ye must show me how thin the next round should be.”

The cook gave Paisley a wooden knife and placed her beside the girdle. When the dough held together, Paisley shaped the first bannock and laid it on the hot iron. She waited for the bottom to set before sliding the blade beneath it.

“That is quite a clean turn, Lady Paisley,” the cook praised.

Paisley straightened and shaped the next bannock. Ceana held up her own piece of dough for the girl’s judgment, then pressed it thinner at her direction.

Oscar had meant to settle Tommy, decide whether a healer was needed, and return to Lennan’s questions about the eastern border. Instead, he remained beside the table and watched as Ness appeared in the doorway with her nose raised toward the oats.

“Keep that creature away from the girdle,” the cook warned.

“She may stay by the door if Tommy keeps her there,” Ceana said.

Tommy placed a dry heel from the scrap bowl near the threshold. “Stay, Ness. I am responsible for ye.”

Ceana pressed the last dough beneath her palm, flour coating her fingers and the inside of her wrist. She laughed when Tommy pulled the spoon from the thick mixture and nearly sent it over his shoulder. She moved among the children as if she had occupied the kitchen for years.

Those flour-marked hands had cleaned his son’s wound and placed real responsibility in his daughter’s grasp. Oscar found it quite fascinating how she had managed to give each child a place without demanding attention for herself.

The cook glanced at him. “Do ye require anythin’, me Laird?”