The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

S kulking in the shadows and remaining unobserved wasn’t something Alistair was used to, but his wife seemed to have a disturbing amount of practice. Alistair was reluctantly amused by her skill as she followed his directions to the kitchens.

He had to admit, Niamh’s idea was a good one. She’d suggested they go together, so that if they were spotted, they could claim they’d gotten hungry and stepped out to get some food and calm their nerves after the disastrous way the evening had ended.

It was a good story, and no one would blink twice by the laird escorting his new wife to get whatever she wanted to soothe her after the attempt on her life.

They made it to the kitchens without being spotted, but then they ran into a problem. The cook was still awake, supervising the scullery maids cleaning the oven. Of course, preparing for a feast took a great deal of cooking, and the servants would still be cleaning and preparing for the next morning’s work.

Alistair pulled Niamh into a small side chamber. “Now what?”

“I dinnae ken. Can we nae just sneak in?”

Alistair snorted. “If ‘twere just the scullery maid? Mayhap. But nae the cook. He’s a keen eye, and doesnae miss a creature living or dead in his domain.” A low bark of laughter escaped him. “Me especially, fer as a lad I was a wee bit tae fond o’ taking cakes off the cooling ledge.”

Niamh giggled softly, and Alistair felt his mood lighten a bit at the sound of her amusement. It might be at his expense, but he was still happy to see her smiling after her recent scare. “Then what dae ye suggest?”

Alistair thought a moment. “Wait here. The pig is sitting by the door, but he hasnae sent it tae the midden, so Catriona must have told him it can be eaten. If he starts the butchering, then I can take some o’ the blood while he works.”

“That seems a sound plan.” Niamh nibbled her lip, and Alistair squashed the impulse to kiss her to make her stop. “What if it doesnae work?”

“We’ll think o’ something else.” Alistair stalked out into the kitchen.

The cook looked up briefly as he approached. “Me laird, is there somethin’ I can help ye with?”

“Nae at this time. I simply came down tae see what Catriona said about the pig that died at the feast.”

“She said the meat was salvageable, me laird, so long as it was well cooked tae remove any taint.”

“Then ye might as well use it fer taemorrow’s meal. Dinnae want tae waste good pork.” Alistair paused.

The cook nodded. “As ye say, me laird. I’ll be happy tae dae that.”

Alistair had expected the man to turn to the carcass immediately. Instead, he turned back to the scullery maid. He decided to try again. “I’ve had a craving fer pork. I wouldnae wish tae interfere in yer kitchen, but since ye’ve the pork sitting there….” He trailed off as the cook turned to face him once more.

“I’ll certainly tak’ note o’ yer request when I begin the butcherin’ in the morn, me laird.” He went back to his other work. Alistair frowned.

He returned to alcove where Niamh was hiding. “He’s nae planning tae butcher the pig until morning.”

“I heard.” Niamh frowned. “Could ye nae order him tae dae it taenight?”

“Nae without upsetting him and making him fair suspicious. He’s been cook fer a long time, and I’ve never interfered in the kitchen afore.”

“Unless ye were stealing pies.” Niamh’s mouth quirked in a grin.

“Could ye offer tae dae the butchering yerself?” she then suggested.

Alistair snorted. “And what man would be thinkin’ o’ doing butchering on his wedding night? If there’s a more certain way tae arouse suspicion, then I dinnae ken it.”

“In that case, why would they nae be suspicious that yer here now?”

“Because I’ve a right and a responsibility tae be concerned about an incident that might threaten the safety o’ me people. Butcherin’s another thing altogether.”

Alistair considered the matter, watching as the scullery maid finished with the oven and was dismissed. He had a moment of hope that the cook would leave as well, but the man remained in the kitchen, going about whatever tasks he’d set for himself.

“Are there herbs yer cook only takes fresh from the garden?” Niamh’s question startled him.

“Most o’ them, in every season save winter. This time o’ year, he’ll have begun gatherin’ and drying them, I think, but he’ll nae finish setting the garden fer winter till Samhain.”

Niamh nodded. “’Tis common practice.”

Alistair studied her face. “Ye have an idea.”

“Aye. I’ll return tae the room, then call a servant and tell them I want a sachet o’ fresh sage and rosemary tae soothe me nerves, along with some chamomile tea. They’re sure tae send tae the kitchens fer it, and he’ll have tae go intae the garden fer the herbs.”

As ideas went, it wasn’t a bad one. Slightly more convoluted than Alistair preferred, but a sound plan nonetheless. After a moment of thought, he nodded. “I cannae think o’ a better idea. But can ye find yer way back tae our rooms on yer own?”

“Aye. I was payin’ attention tae the way we came.”

“Go on then. I’ll wait here fer the cook tae leave. And mind the maid doesnae see that I’m nae with ye.” Alistair checked his belt to make sure he had a small knife that would serve to make the incision. “I’ll be up as soon as I’ve gathered what we need.”

“Aye.” Niamh gave him a smile, then turned and crept out of the alcove. She vanished into the shadows a moment later with an ease that Alistair had to admit he both admired and envied. He watched the hall until he was sure she’d left, then turned back to the kitchens to wait for the distraction.

Time seemed to pass slower than frozen treacle, and he found himself thinking of other things. Thinking of Niamh. She was afraid to sleep with him – afraid of the inevitable consequences – and he respected that. But there was more than one way for a man to pleasure a woman, and receive pleasure in turn. Would she welcome such advances, or such instruction in the ways of the bedchamber, or was all such touch a terror to her?

He didn’t think she was completely unwelcoming of physical affection. She’d responded to his kisses readily enough, and the night they’d shared a bed at the inn, she hadn’t shrunk away from him. The trick, then, would be coaxing her to permit him to go further, without making her fear that he was attempting to abuse her already fragile trust.

For a moment, he indulged himself in a fantasy of Niamh, laying before him in his bed, her face flushed with desire and her eyes soft with trust and affection. Then he shook the thought away.

This is meant tae be a marriage o’ convenience and necessity. Naething more. I cannae risk indulging such thoughts, nae if I want tae spare both o’ us the curse.

The scuffing of shoes on stone brought his attention back to the kitchen, just as a serving maid came hurrying in and spoke to the cook. He didn’t hear the exact words the woman spoke, but the cook nodded. “If ‘tis what me lady desires, then so be it. Fetch me some water from the well and a cloth bag fer the sachet. I’ll go tae retrieve the herbs she requested.”

The maid nodded and left. Alistair watched, scarcely daring to breathe as the cook gathered up a small basket and a pair of shears, then stomped out into the night.

Alistair darted from his hiding place as soon as the door shut. A quick examination of the pig showed it was soft-fleshed enough that getting blood from it would be no difficulty. He started to pierce a large blood vessel in the abdomen, where it wouldn’t be easily seen and grabbed a small milking pail and opened the vein. He filled the bucket to a little less than halfway, then blocked the incision and hastened out of sight.

He made it just in time. He’d barely concealed himself before the door opened and the cook came trundling in, his basket full of herbs that filled the air with their scent.

Alistair waited until the man was bent over the hearth, separating out the herbs for Niamh’s sachet, then carefully crept from his hiding space and into the shadows of the hall. Luck was with him again and he escaped into the shadows just as the serving maid came back with the requested water for the tea and the cloth bag.

The bucket was awkward in his hand, and Alistair scowled at it. Sneaking back through the hall was difficult enough without the added encumbrance, but what choice did he have?

Alistair sighed, shifted the bucket to get a better grip, then began to walk, saying a prayer as he did so that he wouldn’t encounter anyone on the way.