Page 25 of Bound to a Scot
“Good night, Cecilia.”
“Good night, Maddox.”
He gave her a nod and walked out of the dining hall. But rather than head straight for Emmeline’s bedchamber, he walked instead to the kitchens. He heard the women who worked there chatting as he stepped through the doorway. All eyes turned to him and the room fell silent, the air instantly filling with tension. Clearly, these women knew fear when confronted by somebody of station.
“Me laird, what can we dae fer ye?” asked a stout, older woman.
“The Lady Macfie didnae have a chance tae eat,” he replied. “I’d like tae bring her a plate. Is there still food available?”
“Of course,” she replied then turned to the others. “Get a plate fer Lady Macfie taegether.”
“Right away.”
And all at once, the kitchen was abuzz with activity as a pair of women scurried to warm food while another set up a tray.
“We’ll bring it tae her bedchamber right away,” the stout woman said.
“Actually, I’d like tae bring it tae her meself,” Maddox replied.
“’Tis nae necessary, me laird. We can take it up tae her.”
“I’d rather dae it meself, if ye dinnae mind.”
She exchanged a strange look with one of the other women and Maddox groaned inwardly, knowing he had just given their tongues reason to wag. He knew from his own experience there was nothing castle employees loved more than indulging in gossip.
“I’d hoped tae talk tae her about the plans fer me weddin’ tae Cecilia,” he said, hoping to stem the tide of gossip.
“In her bedchamber?” the woman asked.
“She’s workin’ on Cecilia’s veil,” he replied. “’Tis why she didnae eat.”
“Oh, of course.” The sly smile on her face told Maddox she didn’t believe him.
He knew it was improper to visit Emmeline in her bedchamber, but it seemed the only place he could speak with her privately, since she seemed to still be taking pains to avoid him, or at least avoid being alone with him.
“What is yer name?” Maddox asked.
“Gilda,” she replied.
“Gilda, listen,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if ye’d all keep this tae yerselves. Believe me, I ken how this might look, but ‘tis nae anythin’ untoward about this. I’d just hate fer words tae get twisted and turned intae somethin’ they’re nae, then make it back tae Laird Macfie.”
“I understand, Laird MacLachlan,” she said with a knowing smile. “And the Lady Macfie has never been anythin’ but good tae us. We love her dearly and wouldnae want tae stir up any undue trouble fer her. I give ye me word, this will go nay further than the kitchens.”
“Thank ye, Gilda. I appreciate that. And I ken the Lady Macfie will as well.”
“Of course,” she replied.
“The tray is ready, me laird,” called one of the other women.
“Thank ye,” Maddox said.
He picked up the tray and headed out of the kitchen, the sound of the quiet giggling following him down the corridor, but he ignored it. As long as Gilda was true to her word and kept it within the kitchen staff, let them snicker and exchange rumors between themselves. Taking care to avoid being seen, Maddox made his way through the corridors, creeping along as stealthily as he could. He knew there were eyes everywhere, and where there were eyes, there would surely be loose tongues.
He made it to Emmeline’s bedchamber without incident and knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened, and Emmeline’s eyes widened when she saw him standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes rimmed red, making it clear to Maddox that she’d been crying. Knowing that sent a stitch through his heart.
“Wh—what are ye daein’ here?” she asked.
He raised the tray in his hands. “I thought ye might be hungry.”
