Chapter 20

Sneaking out of the room usually would have been a challenge with a man like Domnhall, who was such a light sleeper, always keeping one eye open in case there was an attack. But this morning, Domnhall seemed exhausted, and Billie managed to leave the room without waking him, even after she had dressed and opened the creaky door to the hallway.

It was still early in the morning. The sun had not yet risen, and yet the servants were already going about their days, starting their first tasks. Billie was glad she had managed to wake up so early, as she had a very specific goal in mind.

She made her way to the kitchens, greeting the servants and the guards along the way. Once she was there, she saw that it was filled with people, the maids already preparing the food, and for a moment, she faltered as she didn’t want to be in the way. Before she could turn around and leave, Mrs. Campbell spotted her and beckoned her over with a smile.

Mrs. Campbell was an older woman, short and stout, and one could never refuse an invitation from her.

“Good mornin’, me lady,” she said with a bow. “Why are ye awake so early in the mornin’?”

“Well, I was hopin’ ye could help me, Mrs. Campbell, but it seems ye’re already very busy,” Billie said, lowering her head apologetically. “I shouldnae bother ye.”

“It’s nae a bother,” Mrs. Campbell said, just as strictly as if she were reprimanding Billie. She was an intense woman, but when she smiled, it made you feel special. “Tell me, what is it ye need?”

Billie’s request seemed a little ridiculous when everyone around her was rushing to get everything done for breakfast, but she knew Mrs. Campbell could be relentless. She wouldn’t let her leave until she told her why she had come to the kitchens.

“I wanted tae surprise Laird MacAuley,” Billie said. “I… I made him porridge recently but, well… it wasnae very good, so I wanted tae ask ye tae help me.”

Mrs. Campbell gave Billie a warm smile and herded her to an empty corner of the kitchen, where the two of them could work without the servants getting in their way—or rather without Billie getting in theirs. As the woman grabbed all the ingredients and tools they would need, Billie stood by the counter and watched the others as they worked. They made everything seem so effortless, from chopping the vegetables to rolling out dough, and she couldn’t understand why she seemed to be the only one incapable of improving, if not perfecting, this skill.

Once Mrs. Campbell was back, she immediately put Billie to work. “Here,” she said, as she handed her the oats and water. “Let’s take them tae the fire.”

Billie helped Mrs. Campbell bring everything over to the hearth and watched as the woman shooed away everyone else. Billie gave the servants an apologetic smile, but Mrs. Campbell didn’t seem particularly bothered by the fact that Billie was going to delay all the other preparations.

Putting the oats and water in a pan, Billie listened carefully to Mrs. Campbell’s instructions, trying to follow them as closely as she could. She stirred the mixture as it boiled, watching it carefully until it achieved the right consistency.

“If yer satisfied with this, next time I will show ye how tae make the laird’s favorite food,” Mrs. Campbell said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it very much. When he was a wee bairn, he would ask us tae make it fer him all the time.”

“Ye were here?” Billie asked, surprised. “When the laird was a bairn?”

“Och aye,” Mrs. Campbell said. “I’ve been here me whole life.”

Billie couldn’t help but wonder how many other servants had known Domnhall when he was a little boy. Perhaps many of them, like many of the older soldiers. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would think the clan didn’t belong to him. He was a MacAuley, the only true heir of the clan; the only heir those people knew.

“Thank ye, Mrs. Campbell,” Billie said as the two of them plated the porridge and placed it on a tray.

“O’ course, me lady,” said Mrs. Campbell. “Shall I have a maid bring it tae yer chambers?”

“Nay, nay… I can dae it,” Billie assured her. She picked up the tray and, with one final thank you, she left the kitchens, heading back up to Domnhall’s room—or rather their room, she supposed, now that she had started spending her nights there with him.

As she opened the door, Billie found Domnhall sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he spotted the tray in her hands, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, surely not trusting anything she would bring him after the last time he had tasted her cooking.

“Good mornin’,” Billie said cheerfully as she closed the door behind her with a gentle kick. She brought the tray over to the bed and proudly placed it in front of him, beaming. “I cooked breakfast fer us.”

Domnhall’s suspicion only grew at Billie’s words. “Good mornin’. And why?”

“Why?” Billie asked, her brow furrowing. “Dae ye nae like it when I cook ye porridge? Ye said ye would eat the whole bowl last time.”

Domnhall swallowed drily, looking at the porridge with such distrust that Billie had to stifle a laugh. He plastered a smile onto his face, one that seemed almost painful to maintain.

“O’ course I like it,” he said, though his words were strained and unconvincing. “I told ye, it was… delicious.”

Billie looked at him expectantly, raising her eyebrows and nodding at the bowl when Domnhall made no move to eat. He glanced between the porridge and her face once, twice, and then he hesitantly took the bowl in his hands, as if he expected it to explode.

“It certainly looks very nice,” he said, making no effort to grab the spoon.

“It also tastes very nice,” Billie said. “Will ye nae eat?”

“I’m nae very hungry,” Domnhall said. “I only just woke.”

It was no surprise, how reluctant Domnhall was to taste the porridge. After all, last time Billie had made it, she had tricked him into eating it when she knew just how terribly it tasted. It was rather amusing, though, to see him struggle now, torn between attempting to save himself from a similar fate and not wanting to offend Billie.

“It willnae be as nice when it’s cold,” Billie said, pinning him with a serious gaze. “Eat.”

Sighing deeply, Domnhall took the spoon in his hand and scooped up as little of the porridge as he could before bringing it to his mouth. He winced even before the food touched his lips, and Billie watched him carefully to see the moment when he would realize what he was eating was actually tasty.

It took a few instants for the change to occur, as if his brain hadn’t quite caught up to his tastebuds, but then his eyes widened in surprise and he spooned some more porridge into his mouth.

Billie couldn’t control her laughter any longer. She giggled behind her hand and only laughed harder when Domnhall gave her a questioning look.

“Ach, forgive me,” she said. “But I have somethin’ tae confess.”

“What is it?” Domnhall asked, more alarmed than Billie thought he ought to be. She was certain he expected this to be some sort of ploy, maybe even for the porridge to change taste as soon as he ate more of it.

“When I made the porridge fer ye an’ Hugo, I put salt in it instead o’ sugar on purpose,” she said. “I kent what ye were tryin’ tae dae an’ I wished tae see what ye would say. And, well… I certainly didnae think ye would eat the entire thing!”

Domnhall seemed unimpressed for all of two seconds before he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I cannae believe ye would dae that. What did I ever dae tae deserve such punishment?”

It was Billie’s turn to be unimpressed. “What did ye dae? Did ye forget ye tormented me fer days?”

Domnhall had nothing to say to that, so instead, he grabbed Billie and pulled her close, kissing her. “So ye ken how tae cook?” he asked against her lips.

“Nay,” Billie said. “But I ken how tae cook this.”

The knock on the door made them pull apart and Billie stood to open it. On the other side, she found Abigail, Keira, and Cormac, all of them wearing identical looks of concern on their faces, even though Billie had already assured them the previous day that both she and Domnhall were fine.

“We came tae see if ye’re alright,” Keira said. “An’ if Domnhall is alright, as well.”

“We’re fine, both o’ us,” Billie said, smiling kindly at them. She turned to look at Domnhall over her shoulder, turning her smile to him. “Are ye nae alright, Domnhall?”

“Aye, I’m perfectly fine,” Domnhall called from the bed, giving them a nod.

“He’s perfectly fine,” Billie said. “Dinnae fash.”

“Well, if ye’re perfectly fine, Domnhall… would ye like tae spar today?” Cormac asked, his voice just loud enough to reach him where he lay.

“With ye?” Domnhall asked.

“Aye.”

Billie was just as surprised as Domnhall by Cormac’s invitation. She had thought Cormac wanted nothing to do with Domnhall, that he would be avoiding him for the rest of their lives, but it seemed Cormac had finally warmed up to him. She and Domnhall exchanged a surprised glance, but then he smiled at Cormac and nodded.

“I’d like that very much,” he said.

Cormac gave an awkward nod and said nothing else, hovering near the door. Reaching for his arm, Billie quietly said, “Thank ye.”

“Ye ken I’d dae anythin’ fer me family,” said Cormac just as quietly.

It was sweet of him to say those words, but Billie appreciated it even more because she knew just how difficult it was for him to say them. Cormac was far from the kind of person who talked about his feelings, so for him to admit he saw Billie as his family was a big step.

“We will meet ye soon,” Billie promised them. “An’ dinnae fash. We’re fine.”

They were more than fine, in fact. Billie had never been happier in her entire life.

It was a nice day, though Billie, along with Abigail, Keira, and Elsea, sat in the drawing room, basking in the sunlight that streamed in through the clouds and the windows. Their tea was going cold on the tray, long forgotten as they chatted, at least until Elsea decided it was time for her to go.

“I must visit the village,” she said as she stood from the couch, righting her clothes. “To purchase some supplies.”

“Shall we come with ye?” asked Billie, though the clouds outside the castle held the promise of rain.

“Nay, nay… stay here,” Elsea said, waving a hand dismissively. “I willnae be long. I will find ye when I return.”

By the time Elsea left the room, the clouds had advanced even more, though there was still no rain. Billie could only hope she wouldn’t be caught in the middle of a storm, and though she wished she had chosen a different day to go, she knew there was no point in trying to change her mind. Once Elsea had decided she was going to do something, no one could stop her.

For a while, Billie and Keira fell into a comfortable silence, watching Abigail as she strolled up to Cameron and undoubtedly began to sweet-talk him. Billie had to hide a snicker as blood rushed to Cameron’s face, his cheeks turning a furious shade of red, and when she looked at Keira, she saw that she, too, was about to collapse into uncontrollable laughter.

Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps, accompanied by urgent voices. For a moment, Billie froze, thinking that perhaps there was another attack, but when she looked out of the windows, she saw the guards still at their posts, with none of the panic the approaching voices betrayed.

Just as she stood to see the source of the ruckus, Keira close behind her, the door to the drawing room flew open and Domnhall rushed inside, he and Cormac carrying Hugo between them. Blood dripped from Hugo’s thigh, running down his leg and soaking his clothes, and he limped as he tried to help Domnhall and Cormac carry him.

“Where is Elsea?” Domnhall asked. “Isnae she here?”

“She only just left,” Billie said as she rushed to them. “She went tae the village. Come, lay him on the couch.”

“I’ll fetch water an’ cloth,” Keira said, rushing out of the room as Billie knelt next to Hugo, hands hovering over the wound.

“How did this happen?” asked Billie.

“He was wounded while trainin’,” Domnhall said. “He’s, he’s bleedin’ a lot.”

“It’s alright,” Billie assured him. It would have been much worse had the wound been a little deeper, she knew. As it was, they could stop the bleeding. She couldn’t wait until Keira returned, though, so she grabbed her dress and tore a strip of cloth from the hem, using it to press down on the wound as hard as she could.

Hugo’s face was contorted with pain and reddened with the effort it took him to stop himself from making any noise. He was biting on his bottom lip hard, and it was only when Abigail came to him and quietly told him to relax that he took a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky exhale.

When Keira returned, carrying some clean cloth and water, Billie took Domnhall’s hand and placed it on Hugo’s wound, before she stood to help her sister. The two of them brought everything to the couch, and even as they began to clean and bandage the wound, Domnhall hardly moved from Hugo’s side.

“Will you hover over me like Death?” Hugo asked Domnhall, cracking one of his smiles. “Go, sit, I’m fine.”

“Hugo is right, Domnhall,” Billie said, though in a softer tone, as she could see just how worried he was for his friend. “We will take care of him. Give us some space.”

Domnhall, and even Cormac, didn’t go too far, both men standing near the couch but giving Billie and Keira enough space to work. Maids began to walk into the room, three of them with their aprons full of jars from Elsea’s supplies and the other two carrying a bucket of water each.

“How did ye even dae this, Hugo?” Billie asked, her tone chiding but only in jest.

“It was supposed to be a dull knife,” Hugo said. “How should I have known it wasn’t?”

“Because I told ye!” Domnhall called from where he stood, raising his hands up in exasperation. “But ye didnae listen! Ye’d rather play with the knives than listen tae what I tell ye, like a bairn.”

Hugo rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the unused cloths to chuck it at Domnhall’s head, but Billie grabbed it in the air before it could reach its target.

“We need these, Hugo,” she chided, but she was glad to see he was in the mood to jest. It meant that perhaps it wasn’t as serious a wound as she had feared.

Hugo gave her an impressed look, raising his eyebrows at her agility. “Well, well, perhaps we need you on the battlefield.”

“Dinnae give her ideas,” said Domnhall.

“I, for one, would like to have you as a healer on the battlefield,” Hugo told Billie.

“Well, Hugo,. ye also think it’s a good idea tae play with knives,” Billie pointed out, drawing a chuckle out of him. She and Keira finished tending to his wound, and Billie wiped the blood off her hands on one of the cloths before she grabbed another to wipe off the perspiration from her forehead. “Take him tae his chambers. He should rest.”

It didn’t take long for two guards to help Hugo to his feet and half-carry him out of the room, Domnhall and Cormac following close behind. With the excitement finally over, the crowd dispersed and Abigail and Keira helped clean up as Billie stared at the couch. There was blood on its rich blue velvet, and Billie sighed, shaking her head. It would be impossible to clean.

“Me lady,” said a familiar voice and Billie turned around to see Cameron there, hovering near her. “I saw, fergive me, this is hardly the time, but I saw Miss Robertson with Mr. Buchanan an’… well….”

Cameron couldn’t even finish his sentence, but Billie took pity on him, giving him a small smile as she patted his arm. “Dinnae fash, Cameron. I dinnae think me sister has any interest in Hugo.”

Cameron smiled too, relieved. Billie couldn’t say with absolute certainty that Abigail had no interest in Hugo. He was charming and handsome, after all, but she thought it was better not to mention that to Cameron.

“Ach, thank ye, me lady,” Cameron said, bowing to her before he took his leave. The moment he was gone, Billie’s gaze fell on Domnhall, who had been standing by the door, obscured by Cameron.

For the first time that day, she couldn’t decipher the look he gave her.