Page 73 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
I wonder if they have any biscuits about this place. It is not just the kitten who is in need of a snack before bed.
Callum and Alexander made their way back inside once they had circled the entire perimeter. The castle was quiet as the grave, and that was just what Callum had hoped. He felt as if he might be able to sleep now that he had checked the lands himself.
As they walked back through the gates, he nodded his farewell to Alexander as the man-at-arms headed to his own room.
Callum yawned widely, looking up at the stars and wondering what time it was. He headed back inside, scratching at his jaw, his body languid and relaxed and ready for sleep.
Then, as he passed into the main hall, something shattered in the kitchen.
He stopped, listening intently. It was unusual for servants to be up at this time of night.
Drawing his dagger, he walked quietly along the corridor to the kitchen, the stillness of the house pressing in around him.
Could someone have found his way into me kitchen without me seein’ him? If so, he is the loudest thief I’ve ever heard.
As he reached the kitchen door, he could hear movement inside and burst inside as a wild scream echoed around the walls.
Callum staggered to a stop at the picture that greeted him.
Lydia was standing beside the table, a china plate broken into pieces on the floor below her, while the kitten lapped happily at an egg cup full of cream on the table.
Callum’s shoulder lowered with relief as he put his knife back in its scabbard.
“I am sorry,” Lydia said. “It slipped out of my hand.”
He frowned at her bare feet amidst a sea of broken china shards.
“Stay where ye are, lass,” he said firmly, and stepped over the plate, placing his hands on Lydia’s waist.
Lydia let out a little cry of surprise as he lifted her onto the bench in one movement.
“Stay there, ye will cut yer feet to ribbons,” he grumbled.
Lydia sat on the table, stroking the kitten, as Callum searched for a broom to sweep up the mess. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked about the room.
“I didn’t know that Lairds cleared up their own kitchens,” she said lightly, and he flicked her an irritated glare as he swept up the tiny pieces.
“They dinnae, but needs must when me bride is sneakin’ around at night. What were ye doin’ anyway?”
“I was getting the kitten something to drink.”
Callum raised an eyebrow. “Did he tell ye he was thirsty?”
“Well, he is so thin.”
“He’s a kitten.”
“Kittens should be fat.”
“Only the ones they have in London. We dinnae want a fat cat. We need him for mousin’. If ye start givin’ him cream, he will get ideas above his station.”
Callum leaned forward to take the cream away, and Lydia snatched up both the cat and the egg cup and glared at him, scandalized.
“He is having a treat. You would not take it away from him when he has not even finished!”
“I dinnae see much cream left in the pot. Ye should both go to bed.”
Lydia shifted in place, chewing her lip. “If you must know, I was searching for biscuits, and when I opened the cupboard, the plate flew out and almost hit me on the head.”
