Page 6 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERTHREE

Darragh's boots sounded rhythmically against the old flagstones as he entered the bustling kitchen with Lara following him, as he had no intention of leaving her unattended in the castle giving how he had found her. The air lay heavy with the aroma of simmering meat and baking bread. He surveyed the scene before him.

"Hear me," Darragh demanded, his voice slicing through the cacophony like a knife. Everything fell silent. "I need a meal, hearty and quick. I have a journey tae make tonight. And aye, make it enough fer two. Pack up some supplies for the journey as well, enough for several days.” He glanced at Lara. “And I’ll need a bath drawn straight away, and a clean dress for this lady here."

The head cook, a squat fellow with a long gray beard, looked up at Darragh and nodded. "Aye, me laird, at once. Shall I serve the dinner in the study?”

“Aye, that’ll dae." The cook nodded then gestured at one of the skivvies. “Shona, leave that and go and find some clean clothes for the lady here. Get the lads to heat up some water and take them up tae the first-floor washroom, with some clean towels and soap,” he instructed. He looked back at Darragh. “All will be ready within the next half hour, m’laird. The basket of provisions will be ready fer ye whenever ye wish tae leave.”

"Good man, thank ye," Darragh said with an approving nod. Shona and the army of assistant cooks sprang into action, rushing to do as the head cook bade them. The crescendo of noise arose once again, a symphony of sizzling, chopping, and pots and pans clanging. They returned to the study, but Shona soon arrived to tell them the bath was ready and to guide them to the washroom. With a hint of a smile at Lara, she bobbed a curtsey and left them alone.

“Thank ye, Shona,” Lara called after her.

“Well what have we got here,” Darragh murmured, peering into the washroom. A large, copper tub sat in the center filled with steamy water that clouded the air. It smelled of lavender. Lara’s eyes darted apprehensively between the tub and the door.

Sensing her unease, Darragh reassured her, "I'll be right outside. I’ll guard the door. Nae harm will come tae ye.” With a clearly reluctant nod, she waited for him to leave and shut the door firmly behind him with a soft thud. He leaned against the wall opposite the door, the distant sounds of castle life echoing faintly around him despite MacNeil’s recent demise. They dinnae ken yet that they’ll be better off without that dog.

All was still in the corridor for some time, except for the unmistakable sound of water splashing. When it stopped, he imagined she was getting dried and dressed.

Then, all of a sudden, there came a loud knocking on the door behind him, followed by Lara’s muffled, frantic voice.

"Darragh, can ye open the door, please?!"

Darragh frowned. He had not locked the door. He grasped the handle and jiggled it, but it did not move. "’Tis jammed," Darragh answered, "dinnae worry, I'll get it open!"

He heard a loud thump and more banging as he worked the lock. "Ach, I dinnae ken why ye had tae lock me in!" Lara cried from within.

Fueled by Lara's panicked cries and thinking it pointless to argue, Darragh rattled the doorknob furiously, only to find it stubbornly stuck fast. Desperate to reach the lass, he rammed his shoulder against the door with brute force in desperation. "Ye neednae fret, lass. I'll have ye out in nae time. The door seems jammed, but it wasnae me. Stay calm," Darragh called through the door, keeping his voice steady despite his mounting concern.

“Stand back, Lara,” he called, giving her a few moments to move aside before he breaking open the door with a mighty kick, sending splinters flying. The sight that met his eyes was both unexpected and breathtaking.

The girl was huddled behind a towel to the left of the ruined door. Her mouth hung open in surprise as they stared at each other over the splintered wood. Darragh blinked, knowing the image before him would be graven on his heart forever.

Now, free of grime and filth, Lara shone with a beauty he had not previously detected. Her once matted hair now fell in a slick cascade of dark tresses over her fragile, white shoulders. Her skin glowed like milk and was dusted by a galaxy of golden freckles that resembled dappled sunlight. Her eyes were a luminous blue as they stared at him in the lamplight, their irises large and dark.

"I’m sorry, I thought you had locked me in," she whispered. She clutched the towel to her chest, and Darragh could see her cheeks were flushed with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "I-I panicked."

"Aye, I ken." Darragh couldn’t help smiling and shook his head, finally averting his gaze as he stepped back into the hallway. The door to the washroom now had a gaping hole in it, leaving Lara only a modicum of privacy while she dressed. He turned his back and told her, "I’m nae looking. Take yer time. Come out when ye’re dressed."

He continued smiling to himself as he faced the tapestry covering the opposite wall, listening to the rustling of her dress. Within a few minutes, he sensed her behind him and turned.

“I’m done.”

She was wearing a blue dress that Shona had prepared for her that emphasized how skinny she was after her long imprisonment, yet it hugged all her remaining curves in a way that made him breathe in sharply. Her long dark locks were rapidly drying and rippled over her shoulders like silk. She gazed up at him with big blue eyes.

Something turned over inside him, and he swallowed hard.

“Good,” he managed, trying not to stare, forcing himself to be practical and sensitive to her feelings. “Dinner must be ready by now.”

They made their way back to the study, to find a table set for two. They sat down facing each other, and Darragh ladled out two bowls of thick, fragrant chicken stew from a large tureen. He set one before Lara. He poured ale for them both, watching as she immediately seized a spoon and dug into the stew, hungrily devouring the food. She paused only to butter hunks of bread, dipping them into the stew before stuffing them ravenously into her mouth.

Darragh felt a sense of satisfaction at seeing her eat so well after enduring prison fare for however long she’d been incarcerated. He had no idea how long that was. He guessed that with good food, it would only be a matter of days before her body filled out again and she lost the emaciated look the dungeon had left her with. An image popped into his head making him feel thoroughly ashamed of himself. He pushed it aside, chiding himself for even thinking of the poor lass in such a manner when he was supposed to be safeguarding her.

As they ate, Darragh couldn't help but observe her—he saw the wariness etched on her face gradually give way to a quiet confidence in his presence. It made him feel warm inside, and it struck him then that perhaps they were not so different. Are we nae both scarred by the past and struggling to trust anyone?

He noticed her cheeks were flushed, and she slowed down as she continued to eat. He realized she was likely embarrassed by the wolfish manner in which she had been devouring the food. She turned her head, avoiding his gaze as she blotted the last morsels of stew with a piece of bread then swallowed it.

"'T'is a sin tae let food go tae waste," he offered with a small smile of approval. “And ye must be starving. I'll wager they didnae feed ye much in the dungeon. Would ye like some more?"