Page 5 of Kilted Sins

“Food will be brought tae ye shortly,” said the maid with a curtsy as she backed out of the room hesitantly, as though she was waiting for Enya to request something else before she was gone. “An’ a bath. Mr. MacCallum says yer presence isnae required today at dinner.”

Even if it was, it isnae as though I would attend!

“Thank ye,” Enya said as the woman left, closing the door gently behind her. With a sigh, Enya walked over to the fire that burned in the fireplace, freshly-lit and warm, letting the heat seep into her freezing bones. All the travelling and the storm had left her shivering and exhausted, and the way she had been received by Laird MacDonald hadn’t helped at all.

It was only moments later that there was a knock on her door and no fewer than six maids walked in carrying the tub, the pitchers of water, and a tray of food and drink, placing it gingerly on a table in the sitting area. As the maids busies themselves with the bath preparations, Enya sidled up to the girl who had brought her the food, trying to sound as casual as she could while she picked at a bannock.

She only needed to get her talking, and then everyone else would join in, she knew.

“This is such a lovely place,” she said, perching on the edge of the couch. “I am certain it will be even lovelier once the weather clears.”

“Och aye,” said the girl. With surprise, Enya noticed all of them seemed healthy, robust, showing no signs of weakness or illness. She had expected the servants to be Laird MacDonald’s worst-suffering victims, but none of them seemed like they were being mistreated. “All o’ Jura is a lovely place, me lady. I’m sure Laird MacDonald will be happy tae show ye the entire isle once the weather permits it.”

This is it. I can ask her about Laird MacDonald.

“I hope he will,” Enya said in the most excited tone she could muster, though she hoped for her own sanity that such a thing would never happen. She couldn’t imagine being alone with the man for longer than a few minutes. “I was wonderin’… what he is like? I wish tae make a good impression on him an’ I would be embarrassed if I did somethin’ that would displease him.”

There were whispers among the women, their small group cooing and giggling, certainly imagining a great love story between her and the laird. It would be even better if everyone was convinced Enya wanted to impress him, as then no one would suspect her real motives.

“Well, he doesnae speak much,” said one of the other girls, who was helping prepare the bath. “He is usually alone, or with Mr. MacCallum an’ Mr. MacThomas.”

Enya didn’t know who Mr. MacThomas was, but she assumed it was the other man who had been there with the laird, the one who had seemed amused by the situation.

“What is he like?” Enya asked, since the maids didn’t seem too eager to give her much more than this. “Is he… is he nice?”

Enya watched carefully as the maids glanced at each other in silence. Though they didn't speak, they were clearly communicating among each other through their gazes, having a conversation Enya couldn’t decipher. She couldn’t help but think it was a bad sign; whatever it was they didn’t want to tell her couldn’t possibly be good.

“He’s fair, me lady,” said another of the maids. “An’ noble.”

A diplomatic answer.

Though the woman didn’t confirm Laird MacDonald was nice, she didn’t claim he wasn’t either. And even if they had, it wouldn’t have changed Enya’s plan. From the very moment she had stepped foot on the boat, she had decided she would do anything in her power to make Laird MacDonald hate her.

“He is rather… particular about certain things,” said another girl as she warmed one of the jugs of water in the fireplace. “

“Particular?” Enya asked, the odd choice of words catching her interest. “How so?”

“Well, he is very meticulous, me lady,” said the woman. “He wants everythin’ tae be in its place an’ if we move somethin’, well, he doesnae like it.”

This could be helpful, Enya thought as she watched the girls work, a few of them speaking quietly to the one who had given her this valuable information, no doubt to berate her for sharing too much with the laird’s betrothed. The last thing they would want would be to make him appear undesirable in any way, but Enya was grateful even for this little crumb of insight into the laird’s character.

He must despise messes. Well, he willnae like what I will dae tae his study, then.

A plan began to form in Enya’s mind then, one that quickly took root. Leaning back with a satisfied smile on her lips, she nibbled on her bannock, waiting impatiently for the moment she could execute it.

The next morning brought with it more rain, but at least the worst of the storm seemed to have passed. Soon, snow would cap the hills and the trees around the castle, and Enya was certain the place would look magical dressed in white. She was less interested in the scenery, though, and more interested in putting her plan in motion.

Waking up early that morning, Enya dressed and broke her fast, rushing through her plate so she could then visit the laird’s study. It took her a while to find the place, as she had to ask several guards to give her directions, but in the end, she stood in front of Laird MacDonald’s door, taking a deep breath as she knocked.

“Come in,” a gruff voice called from the other side of the door and Enya opened it to find not only Laird MacDonald there, but also Archibald and the other man she had met the previous night; the one Archibald had called Duncan.

“Miss MacLeod,” said Archibald before Laird MacDonald had even looked up from his papers, as he stood from his seat and offered Enya a bow. Behind him, the laird finally looked up, meeting Enya’s gaze, and much to her surprise he, too, stood and bowed to her. “Please, come in. Did ye find yer chambers adequate?”

“Och aye, I was very comfortable,” said Enya as she took a few more steps into the room, her eyes finding the other man to whom she hadn’t been introduced yet. With a curtsy, she said, “Thora MacLeod. It’s a pleasure tae meet ye, Mr.—”

“MacThomas. Duncan MacThomas,” said the man as he pushed himself off the wall where he had been leaning, confirming Enya’s suspicions that he was the one the maids had been talking about. Like his companions, his was broad-shouldered and stocky, though he wasn’t quite as tall as Laird MacDonald or Archibald, who seemed to tower over him. He was the most rugged of the three, his face and hands marred by scars, but at the same time there was a boyish charm about him, a quirk of the mouth when he smiled, a twinkle in his eyes that made him look a little younger than his years.

In fact, out of the three of them, Enya would have thought Archibald the more refined of the three, a little leaner, with a patrician profile and a gentle manner that spoke of a noble upbringing.