Page 92 of Desiring the Highland Laird
Evie looked around and found a small wooden cup. That would be perfect for her hot herbal tea. Then she set about plucking the petals from the white daisies. The aromatic scentwafted to her nose as her fingers rubbed across the leaves. It was definitely chamomile. Smiling, she then plucked a few mint leaves and placed them in a small pile with the petals.
“Do you have a knife I could borrow?” she asked.
Roslyn handed her one of her best chopping knives. By now, Evie realized she had an audience. The two scullery maids had halted their work to gape at her.
She forged on, though, determined to make her tea. With the knife, she chopped up the leaves and petals into tiny pieces. Then she took another glance around the kitchen, looking for something that was akin to cheesecloth. Since they didn’t have the modern conveniences of tea balls in this century, she would have to make do.
“What now, lass?” Roslyn asked, a bemused look on her face.
Evie said, “Do you have a small piece of woven cloth? For straining.”
She was surprised when Roslyn handed her the small square piece of cloth. It looked like the gauzy woven cotton she was expecting and was surprised to see the woman had a piece. She placed her leaves and petals into the cloth and tied up the corners. Some would likely leak out, but that was all right with her. She dropped it in the wooden cup. Then she took a thick towel and grasped the pot of boiling water by the handle and, ever so slowly, poured it over the cloth. She waited a few minutes before dipping the cloth in and out of the hot water. When she was satisfied it had steeped long enough, she placed the bundle aside.
It was the moment of truth. She took a sip.
And was delightfully surprised.
It had the chamomile flavor with a hint of mint. But it needed something. She didn’t want to use sugar as she knew it was likely precious to them. Perhaps a drop or two of honey?
“What are ye drinking there, lass?” Roslyn moved closer, her curiosity evident on her aged face as she peered at her.
“Here. Try a sip.” She handed her the cup.
She hesitated a moment before taking it and then giving it a sniff. With a glance back up at Evie, she tasted it. She held the warm liquid in her mouth a moment before swallowing. A smile creased her lips.
“What is this called?”
“Where I come from, we call it herbal tea,” she said. “But since there are no tea leaves here, perhaps it’s merely herb water.”
She almost laughed as she said it, thinking of all the fancy flavored waters, fizzy and not, in her time. What would Roslyn think of that, she wondered?
“The petals are chamomile,” Evie said. “It’s known to be a sleep aid and to have a calming effect.”
Roslyn took another sip. “I’ve no had anything like it.” She paused, then said, “Can ye make more?”
Evie giggled and nodded. “Yes, of course I can.”
*
That night, Eviemade a steaming pot of what Roslyn called her herb water and took it to the bedchamber she now shared with Callum. She didn’t expect him to be there. He wasn’t at the evening meal, either. She assumed he was brooding somewhere else in the keep and would eventually turn up.
Much to her surprise, he was in the bedchamber sitting in the chair by the blazing fire, looking as though he had murder on his mind.
She paused in the doorway, unsure if she should continue inside the room or not. When he turned to see her, his expression softened.
“Och, lass, dinnae stand there in the door. Come in.” He waved her inside.
She kicked the door closed with her heel and moved deeper into the room, searching for a surface to place the tray she carried. When he noticed she juggled, he made a spot for her on one of the tables, then dragged it over to the fire. Then he grabbed the spare chair and moved it across from his. She placed the tray down and noticed he peered at it with some interest.
“What is that?” he asked.
She poured into each cup, then handed him one. “It’s something that will help soothe you.”
He took it, sniffed, and gave her a wary expression. Then he tasted it. When he swallowed the herbal water, his expression changed to one of surprise.
“Where did ye get this?”
“I made it.” Feeling smug, she sipped her own fake tea.
