Highland Moon #1 (Scottish Werewolf Shifter Romance)

I walked past them and came to the door. It was unlocked and led to the kitchen and rear passages into the main portions of the castle. The kitchen was sturdy with a stone floor and walls. Brick ovens were set into the left-hand wall and a stove occupied the opposite wall. In the center was a large wooden table. Utensils and pans hung from the open-beamed ceiling, and the scent of herbs and spices flowed from the dried foodstuff that hung between the pans. A few small windows near where the wall met the ceiling vented the hot steam into the courtyard.

  The kitchen bustled with work as a handful of women busied themselves over the large stove and at the table kneading dough. One of the women was a large sort with sharp eyes and a voice that shook the walls.

  "Not done with the bread yet?" she barked at one of the women who kneaded the dough.

  "Almost," was the reply.

  "'Almost' will not feed my laird's guest Laird Graham," she bit back. "He and his own will arrive within the hour and we have little to show for his late breakfast." Her quick eyes fell on me and narrowed. "What's wanted?"

  I curtsied. "I am Muira, daughter of Fenella, and I have come to serve my laird."

  The woman's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. "Why, so it is!" She rushed forward and enveloped me in a hug that left me breathless. Aili pulled me away and looked me over with a wide smile. "I should have known you anywhere! You look so much like your mother! What a beauty you are!"

  I blushed and bowed my head. "Thank you."

  "And what of your skills? Have you the hands of your mother?" she wondered.

  "They are not so experienced, but I shall try," I promised.

  She gave a nod. "Good. You will be put to work now. We are in need of stronger kneaders than God has granted me." I removed my cloak and Aili turned me to the small group of women. Many of them were my mother's age, but a few young faces shone through. "This is Muira. She's to be the new serving girl for our laird." The women curtsied and mumbled greetings. I returned the sentiment.

  Then Aili led me to the large kneading table. She gave me a ball of dough and I was set to work. There was a great deal to be done with preparing food for a laird and any important followers he may bring. Ducks had to be roasted, bread cooked, and soup made. The women talked as they worked.

  "I hear tell that the Laird Graham is to bring his daughter," one of them, a woman by the name of Mary, spoke up.

  "What for? The laird's son is dead," another pointed out.

  "Is he?" Mary wondered. "I don't recall seeing a coffin, and the laird would surely have set up a fine tomb in the crypt for his only son."

  "Perhaps he isn't dead," a third chimed in.

  Mary nodded. "That's what I think. There are enough queer tales from the north wing to chill anyone's blood."

  "Queer tales?" the second wondered.

  "Aye, of shadows in the passages and strange sounds from the top-most chambers," Mary explained.

  "Don't go starting that talk again, Bean Finn, nor you, Mary," Aili scolded her as she punctuated their tales with stern orders. "There's no one in the north wing, and you know it. Now quicker to the stove with you all, and don't cheapen the soup with water. The laird doesn't mind such ways when he's without company, but not with."

  A great shout came from the courtyard. The women dropped their bread and pots, and rushed to the windows and to the door which Aili opened. A handsome carriage with gilded doors rushed into the courtyard with an entourage of horsemen at the front and back. The gates were shut behind them. They had only been opened in anticipation of Laird Graham's arrival. The laird himself alighted from the carriage. He was a portly fellow of forty with red cheeks and food stains on the front of his broad breast. His eyes were small and set closely together.

  Behind him emerged a fair lady of my age. She was very pale and thin, and had a cross look on her face. Her dress was of the smoothest velvet and her cloak of the softest wool, all dyed red.

  The doors to the main wing of the castle swung open and Laird Campbell himself stepped out. He was a man of forty-five, a great age, and walked with a limp received from battle in the protection of his lands land before I was born. His long beard was speckled with gray and his hands were gnarled from many years of battle with a sword. He wore a thick, flowing robe over his shoulders, and woolen clothes dyed purple beneath that.

  Laird Graham noticed his host and opened his arms. "Good day to you, my laird!"

  Laird Campbell shook hands with his portly guest. "Good day to you, Laird Graham. This is your daughter?"

  Graham stepped to the side and smiled at his lovely child. "Aye, and never a finer picture of womanhood you'll find north of the Severn! Annabel, be honored to meet our host, my Laird Campbell."

  Annabel smiled and curtsied low to the ground. "Good day, my laird."

  Laird Campbell offered her his hand. "Good day to you, my lady, and welcome to my castle. Now let us inside for a repast. I imagine the trip has made you hungry."

  "Starving!" Graham agreed.

  "Then we shall see what can be done," Laird Campbell replied as he led them inside the castle.

  Aili shut the door and pushed us back to our chores. "You heard the laird! Prepare the trays!"

  We filled the trays with as much food as their sides would hold. I and another girl were given those with food, and another girl was given one with drink and so forth. We made for a long line of dishes, food and drink as Aili marched us from the kitchen.

  The kitchen lay off the dining hall which was the centerpiece of the whole castle. Meals were taken at the grand wooden table that stretched twenty feet from end to end. At the far left wall was a great fireplace with a hearth that heated not only that great room but the others above it. The open-beam ceiling lay twenty feet above us. Their beams were blackened with countless fires and had witnessed centuries of feasts.

  On the opposite wall from the kitchen was a door that led to the entrance hall from which came our laird and his guests.

  "Wonderful timing!" Graham complimented as they took their seats at the head of the table. We set the table and placed the food and drink before them.

  "They know my ways," was Campbell's response. He was a man of few words and had a brooding look on his brow, but he was gentlemanly in his manners.

  "What a grand castle," the daughter commented.

  Graham chuckled. "I forget this is your first time here, my daughter. You must learn the castle before the wedding."

  My sinful curiosity was aroused by such a remark, and I was not the only one affected. Unfortunately, our work was done and Aili jerked her head towards the kitchen. We marched towards the door, but Aili grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. She handed me a pitcher and turned me back to the table.

  "You stay and serve the lairds," she whispered to me. "And whatever you do don't spill on them!"

  Aili gave me a push and I found myself behind the Lord Graham's tall chair.

  "It remains to be seen if the lady will take me," Laird Campbell continued their conversation.

  The lady cast her eyes downward. "If that is what my laird wishes."

  Lord Graham let out a great guffaw and slapped his hand on the table. "A perfect answer for a perfect woman! She will make you a good wife, my laird!"

  "I am a difficult man to please," Campbell warned him.

  "Nonsense! We will drink to the successful union of our two houses." He took his large mug and placed it on his right side. "Filled to the brim, if you will, girl," he demanded of me.

  I leaned forward and poured the mead into the large mug. Graham turned to me and looked me over. His eyes brightened and his smile widened.

  "Well, well, it seems you have a new serving girl, my laird," Graham commented. I was glad to fill the mug and move away from his prying eyes to the others.

  "So it seems," the laird replied, "but to the matter at hand."

  "Ah, yes! The wedding! The dowry will not be as great as we planned
. Poor harvest, you know, what with the English raids and such," Graham commented.

  Laird Campbell frowned. "What is it to be then?"

  Graham waved away his worries. "Merely a few head less and some bushels of barley fewer, but nothing of great consequence."

  I poured a glass for my lady Annabel. She looked up at me and sneered. I bowed my head and held my tongue at such unearned disdain. We knew each other not and yet I had the feeling she disliked everything about me. My hair, my clothes, my chubby figure, and most especially my station.

  I stepped back and listened to their conversation, for I had nothing else to do.

  "We had agreed on that number," Lord Campbell insisted.

  "I know, my laird, but the English will not be convinced to stop their raids any more than our people will stop theirs," Graham protested.

  "I will take no excuses," Laird Campbell warned him.

  Graham straightened and I saw a gleam of sweat glisten atop his forehead, though the room was a touch chilly. "Perhaps I might find enough bushels and meat to meet the dowry, but I will be hard put to do so."

  Campbell's dark eyes flickered down to Graham's ample stomach. "I have faith that you can." He clapped his hands.

  The women from the kitchen hurried out and removed the food. Aili gave me a gentle push towards the kitchen.

  "My laird, we have hardly had repast," Graham protested.

  "This is a reminder that you are still my vassal, Graham," Campbell tutored him.

  We servants hurried our steps faster and swept into the kitchen. Aili closed the door behind the last of us and shooed us to the tables.

  "Now off with the food and wash those plates now. There'll be more soon enough for the wedding," she warned us.

  Mary shook her head. "An ill omen, this is. . ." she muttered.

  "Why's that?" one of the girls spoke up.

  Mary glared at her. "Don't you know there's to be no talk of dowry in the presence of the bride. Tis a curse on the wedding. It shall not come to pass."

  "You've heard too many tales," Aili argued. "The deal's as good as sealed, and I'll not here another word about it."

  "Mark my words, there'll be no marriage between them," she insisted.

  "That's enough now," Aili ordered her.

  Mary sulked over to the dishes and plates. We scrubbed and scalded the fine ware and stoked the fire that had the duck roasting. A woman with a bundle of fresh white linen slipped into the kitchen and over to Aili. She was over a great age, possibly sixty, and bore herself with the pride that was unbecoming even an old servant. They spoke a moment before Aili turned to me.

  "Muira, you're wanted," she told me.

  I walked over and glanced between the two women. Aili gestured to the other woman. "This is Bean Lyel. She's charged with the rooms. The chamber maids are shorthanded and are in need of you."

  "I'm not to remain in the kitchen?" I asked her.

  "You're to go where you're needed, and you're needed upstairs," she instructed me. She nodded at Bean Lyel. "Bean Lyel here will show you what to do."

  Bean Lyel stiffly bowed her head. "A pleasure to meet you, miss."

  "I am at your service," I replied as I bit my tongue. As one newly arrived I had no right to refuse work.

  "This way," Bean Lyel commanded me.

  CHAPTER 4