Page 41 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
The cook’s eyes twinkled as she shook her hand.
“Aye, they get ‘lost’ in this place quite often. Usually, when I have made scotch pies.”
“What are those?” Lydia asked.
There was a weighted silence.
“Ye dinnae ken what a scotch pie is, M’Lady? I shall have to make them for tonight. Ye cannae live yer life and nae try a scotch pie. What dae they feed ye in England?”
“Well, I have had chicken pie before.”
“Tsk, chicken pie,” the cook said derisively. “Scotch Pies are spiced mutton, sweet and moist, and much better than any other pie you’ve ever tasted. I am changin’ the dinner tonight, M’Laird. We need to feed this wee thing and get some fat on her bones.”
Lydia laughed as the cook began to busy herself with her task.
“Come on,” Callum said firmly. “The girls arenae here, and I think we should leave before she starts plyin’ ye with food to eat.”
They left through a small rear door and emerged into a long corridor with stairs leading away from them, and as they ascended, they came up to a long room lined with portraits.
Small windows ran along the left-hand side, casting light over the paintings.
Callum looked as if he was keen to move through as swiftly as possible, but Lydia lingered, looking up at each one with interest.
She paused as she came across a large portrait of Callum standing beside a beautiful blonde-haired woman. Her stomachdropped, staring up at her face, amazed at how painful it was to see him standing beside another woman.
Callum had reached the door at the other end of the corridor but sighed with exasperation when she didn’t immediately follow him, coming back to stand beside her.
Lydia swallowed, composing herself as she glanced at him. He was gazing up at the portrait almost wistfully, and her stomach clenched.
“Were you betrothed before?” she asked, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
Callum grunted, a vein throbbing in his temple.
“Dinnae trouble yerself, lass. That isnae me.”
Lydia stared at him, then back at the portrait. The man in the painting was identical to Callum, save for his scars.
“You were twins?” she asked. “Like the girls?”
“Aye. That’s Angus. Me braither. But he’s dead and gone.”
Why is it that I prefer Callum more with scars than without?
Sensing the atmosphere in the air, Lydia gave a cursory glance around the long space and shrugged.
“Well, it doesn’t look like the girls are in here, either.”
Callum took hold of her elbow, leading her out of the room and closing the door decisively behind them. They were next to a long spiral staircase that Lydia had not seen before, and she glanced upwards, turning to him curiously.
“Where does this lead?”
Callum’s eyes followed the line of the stairs. “Come with me and I’ll show ye.”
CHAPTER 12
The narrow stairwayseemed to go on forever. Lydia braced her hands on either side of the wall as her feet scraped against the rough stone, climbing higher and higher.
Just when she thought they might never reach the top, they emerged onto a high parapet. There were stone blocks on all sides, almost the height of her head, that obscured her view of their surroundings.
