Page 22 of A Two-Faced Laird
“I changed my mind after he left,” he replied. “I still hunt small game, and I still catch fish, but as an heir, I should try the bigger animals, too. My people think it is more manly.”
Once more, Edina laughed. “Really? Manly? I have heard that before, but I really do not see the connection between manliness and hunting. I may try it myself one day.”
“No!” Lewis snapped. “It is a rough and dangerous pastime, Edina. Stay away from it. Now, I must get back to work. Excuse me.”
He gave her a short, formal bow and walked away, leaving Edina to stare after him. The more she spoke to him, the more of a mystery he became, but it made her even more determined to find his secret.
She was feeling rather peckish by this time, and it was still several hours until dinner, so Edina decided to commit a tremendous breach of etiquette and go to the kitchen for a bite to eat.
The cook and kitchen maids were startled to see her, and each one curtsied, but Edina smiled and put them at ease.
“I am not a princess,” she said pleasantly, smiling at them. “But I am hungry. Can you tell me what delicious morsels you have for me to eat? And your name?”
She smiled, then took in a deep breath of the delicious aroma of roasting meat, baking bread, spices, and other equally delectable scents, and her mouth began to water profusely.
The cook gave her a beaming smile. For someone in such a relatively senior position, she was quite a young woman, perhaps in her thirties, Edina thought. She had the fiery red hair typical of many Highlanders, and soft grey-green eyes. Edina thought that if she put on a ball gown, she could woo many a young Laird’s son, but she did not voice the thought. The Laird would likely have an apoplectic fit!
“I am Annie, Mistress,” she replied. “We have just made a batch o’ cheese scones, some pork sausages, some black puddin’, an’ if ye can wait a bit there is bread comin’ out o’ the oven in a wee while. An’ the buttery has just sent us some fresh cheese. We have apples, blackberries an’ tons o’ nuts, too!”
“Of course, it is harvest time,” Edina realised. “Are there hazelnuts?”
“Aye, an’ chestnuts,” Annie replied, smiling. “I have just roasted some.”
Edina walked around the kitchen, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the luscious smells, until she came to the tray of black pudding, a dish which made her stomach turn.
“This is quite safe from me,” she told Annie as she wrinkled her nose.
Annie laughed. “Funny how different people are, Mistress,” she said, “Master Lewis loves the stuff. Cannae get enough o’ it.”
But he hates it!Edina thought, amazed. The young Lewis had always practically been sick at the thought of eating black pudding.
She hid her astonishment, however, and asked, “What else does he hate eating?”
“He doesnae like sweet things,” Annie replied, “although he likes fruit; apples, strawberries, pears an’ suchlike. He cannae stand honey, but.”
Edina remembered the episode with the schoolchildren and the scones. She had honestly thought then that Lewis mightvomit, and yet when they were younger, he would devour as many sweetmeats as he could get his teeth into.
Edina couldn’t conceal her puzzlement, so the cook asked, “Are ye all right, Mistress?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about when we were children,” she admitted. “He used to love sweet things then.”
“Aye, well, people change,” Annie said, smiling.
In the end, Edina chose to eat some roasted chestnuts and cheese, which were delivered to a small, cosy parlour not far from her bedchamber. She contemplated a glass of wine, but decided against it, since it was as yet too early in the day.
She was beginning to see a kind of pattern. Many of the things that Lewis now hated were things he had loved as a child. Of course, as she was constantly reminding herself, he was a man now, and not a boy, and he had likely changed in many ways. Of course, he had. She had done so herself.
Until she was twelve years old, she had hated cats, thinking them to be sly, aloof creatures; then she was given a kitten that had been rescued from starvation when his mother died. He was a small bundle of ginger fur, and she had called him Ruadh, which meant “redhead” in Gaelic.
She had absolutely fallen in love with the little animal, who seemed to feel the same way about her. He was a house cat, so he followed her everywhere and even slept in her bed at night, and they were absolutely devoted to each other. When he died of a fever when he was eight years old, Edina had been absolutely devastated, and had vowed never to have another pet of any kind.
She smiled as she thought of her little friend, and felt a sudden surge of longing. Perhaps she would adopt another cat. She was sure that Ruadh would not mind if he was looking down on her from cat heaven. People often said that animals had nosouls, but she did not believe that; if there was a heaven for people, then their pets were there too.
Now, however, it was time for Edina to bathe and dress for dinner. Bathing was a pleasure, but dressing for dinner was a nightmare, and she typically wished she could wear breeches or a kilt like a man. At last, she sighed and rose to her feet, knowing that it would take her at least an hour to prepare.
The days were becoming colder, the nights shorter, and Edina shivered as she entered her bedroom, despite the roaring fire that was burning in the grate. Yet again, something was bothering her, nagging at the back of her mind, and it would not go away.
She bathed quickly and said little to Mairi, with whom she usually exchanged the latest gossip, but afterwards she put off donning her corset and petticoats, instead choosing a loose dressing gown.
