Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

B lades of blinding sunlight thrust past Sophia's eyelids as she woke the next morning. She opened her eyes to the sight of a maid opening the muslin curtains to let in more light.

"Good morning, milady," the maidservant greeted her.

"Morning?" She immediately regretted asking, knowing it was a fool's question. "Dinnae answer that," she interjected, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand and covering a yawn with the other.

"Sir Logan asked that ye join them for breakfast, milady," the maidservant informed her with a small voice.

"Is it nae a bit too early for breakfast?" Sophia asked, yawning again.

"It is nae, milady—it has been a few hours since dawn."

"Oh," she muttered. "I woke a wee late it would seem." She recalled how painfully sleep had come, having tossed and turned long enough to hear the first morning cry of the roosters. And she missed her own bed. It was the first time she had spent a night away from her home.

"Can ye draw me a bath?" she requested, getting to her feet. "And where is my sister?"

"Yer sister is down for breakfast, milady. She awoke before the sunrise," the maid replied, obviously waiting to lead Sophia to the nearest washroom. "Catherine saw to her needs."

Sophia told herself it was strange that Lorena had woken so early. Their mother always had to drag her out of bed, and Sophia had always been the early bird in their house. The only early bird at that. She wondered whether a witch had somehow switched their fates. Such scandalous thoughts , she chucked to herself. The Laird would have her head if he could read her many wonderings about the devil's magics.

Suddenly, she paused. The maid had said Catherine .

"The maid, Catherine, ye said?"

The maidservant gave her a confused look.

"How long has Catherine been here? Sophia asked.

"A wee over six years," the maid answered. "She often attends to the Laird. She was his chambermaid, but now she will be a lady's maid."

"Then," Sophia crossed her arms and stood upright, "Is she close to the Laird?"

"Milady," the maidservant called out to her. She motioned for the hallway. "If she serves him, then I imagine she is, aye. The Laird is cold to most in his household, except to her… but nae much. We are only servants, after all."

"How close, would ye say?"

The maid walked closer to her. She placed her mouth close enough to her ear that it tickled. "Well, there are rumors, milady," the maid gossiped. "Some say she shares a bed with him, when the fancy takes him."

Sophia started. "Surely, it cannae be much of a courtship."

"It's outrageous, milady, and I should nae speak of the Laird's affairs," the maid went on. "But it is believed amongst the servants that the Laird refuses to marry because he loves her."

Sophia frowned. It was not a difficult thing for her to understand, this affair between Laird MacNeil and Catherine. She had seen them herself, after all, but she needed a reason to not believe what she had seen—to believe in their love. Be that as it may, she told herself it was wrong to tattle about him, especially while she was still under his roof.

"Are ye all right, milady?" The maid furrowed her brow. "Did I say something to concern ye?"

"Nae," Sophia shook her head. "It's best I prepare for breakfast."

"Aye," The maid gestured again to the door. "This way."

Sophia could only hear the clattering of plates and spoons, swallowing, and chewing as they ate. She might have thought the guests had made a childish pact not to talk during breakfast if she hadn't seen the Laird's coolness the night before. Every morsel she pushed past her lips had to be followed by a sip of water. Not a single person at the large breakfast table exchanged a single glance.

Well, not until she choked on the crust of her bread.

Sophia tried to hold back the choking cough so strongly she felt her eyes bulge in her head. When at last it sounded, she could actually hear the echoes of her own cough rousing everyone in the room.

"Sophia!" Laird MacNeil yelled, shooting up from his chair. For a moment, she believed he would run to her, but the next second Reed knelt in front of her instead.

"God in Heaven, Sophia! Ye should drink some of this," he said, bringing her tumbler to her mouth.

She pried the cup from him and helped herself to some of its content. She stilled at last, finally done gasping for air. She made an awkward announcement to settle the tension. "'Tis—I'm all right."

Reed nodded and walked back to his seat at the table, and Kendrick lowered himself back down. They all returned to silence.

"Milady." Reed dared to break the quiet. He had lost his sling from the night prior. Clearly, he was the bravest clansman. "Do the clan games interest ye?"

Sophia raised her head, at first not realizing he was referring to her until she looked up to his face. "Are ye talking to me?"

"Aye, milady." Reed nodded with a chuckle. "This afternoon, ye could attend the games with me, if ye like."

"I am not certain I can." Sophia attempted to refuse. "Ye see, my father—"

"Ye should," Reed persisted. "I insist."

"I will leave ye to yerself, my girl," Angus interrupted, wiping his mouth. "I shall be on my own way after breakfast."

Her father's interjection gave her no further excuse to refuse Reed's invitation, and Sophia didn't know if she was annoyed or excited. She stole a glance at Kendrick, who appeared to be too busy with his food to notice her. At that moment, something tempted her to accept the invitation.

"Aye, then. It would be a delight to join ye," she smiled. "I shall have to bid my father farewell before we depart."

"Tis all right, milady," Reed agreed. "Send for me when yer ready."

"Milaird." Sir Logan cleared his throat. "Ye should invite Lady Lorena as well, if ye are inclined to follow."

Kendrick dropped his spoon. "The engagement has nae been announced yet, Uncle. If we are seen together..."

Logan's frown was all-telling. Kendrick had a point, although one could easily see he was trying to avoid spending time with her.

"He's right, Sir Logan," Lorena agreed. "I do nae think it wise to be seen with the laird till our betrothal is announced."

"Is it so?" Logan inquired.

"Aye, sir. It is so," she answered, before nibbling at her cheese.

Logan hummed, though he seemed to have nothing more to say.

They soon finished their meals, and everyone went about their busy days—except Sophia, who insisted on going to the stable with Angus and keeping him company until he rode away. She watched her father saddle his mount, a brown, handsome steed that the Laird had let him borrow. She went closer to him as soon as he was done preparing for his ride.

"My daughter," he looked at her, downcast. "I ken yer feelings for the Laird..." His voice broke. "I ken ye must be sad and angry, but it is nae time to be weak. Ye've to take care o' yer sister and the Laird as well."

"How, Father?" Her eyes misted over.

"Yer the strongest o' yer sisters. I ken ye will overcome this." Angus embraced her. "I ken ye care for the Laird… and by the way he looks at ye, he cares for ye too."

She pulled herself away. "I've doubts of his feelings for me. He avoids me. Father, he chose another!"

"Bairn, ye cannae understand a man," Angus continued. "He may avoid ye, but when he gazes upon ye, his eyes are of a man that loves a woman."

"Even if he did, Father, I cannae hurt Lorena."

"Yer sister kens the truth just as well." Angus seized her by the shoulder. "Yer sister wants ye to be happy, Sophia. Things can change in a week's time."

Sophia wiped at the corner of her eyes. "I will not force him to care for me. Nae, it is up to him to make sense of his own feelings."

Angus nodded and raised his hand to stroke her hair. "Ye ken, bairn. Yer mother and I will always be proud o' ye."

"I am glad to have ye and Mother too." She smiled away her tears.

"Take care o' yerself."

"Ye too, Father."

Angus mounted his horse. With a gentle nod and a gentler smile, he rode away. Sophia continued to stare after him until he was but a point on the horizon.

"Milady." Reed was standing beside her. She gasped as she turned to him. "Ye look like ye'd love to have followed him back to yer home."

Sophia laughed, but it was mirthless. "I thought we were to meet in the field."

"It's nae very gentlemanly to leave a lady escort herself." He offered her an arm, which she gladly took. "Ye don't look all too happy, Sophia. Tell me—are ye having a bad day?"

"Something like that, aye. I must be missing my father already," she lied. She could never tell him the truth of her affections.

As if it dinnae sound like a jest anyway.

"Well, the day has barely begun." He locked her hand in the crook of his arm. "I shall cheer ye up before it ends."

"Tis quite hard to cheer this lady up, dearest Reed," she said. Somehow, however, she really did feel a little less sad.

"Then I shall prove my skills to ye," he bragged. "It's no secret I am the best cure for a moody lass."

Sophia giggled. "Yer skills seem to be in effect already. And how many lasses are ye helping, dare I ask?"

Followed by gentle laughter, they sauntered into the game field where Kendrick lay in wait for them.

She stopped walking. "Ye did nae inform me he would be here," she turned to Reed.

"To whom do ye refer, Sophia?" He craned his neck and scanned the field, trying to find whomever it was she was talking about.

"The Laird," she whispered.

"Oh," Reed relaxed his posture. "He's the chieftain of the clan. There is nae world in which he would be absent."

"Is there a reason he cannae be absent?" she pressed on.

"As Laird," Reed explained, "It is his duty to bless the games."

"Does he nae play himself?" She inquired.

"Nae," Reed responded. "The Laird does nae play. He takes nae liking to caber tossing."

"Caber tossing? I've never watched a caber toss, but probably I will nae like it."

"And why do ye think that?" Reed smiled. "Come now, milady. I ken ye to be a brave lass."

"It is too dangerous. One can only hope there are nae accidents." Her toes curled in her boots.

"Nearly nae as dangerous as horse riding, milady," he disagreed.

"And," she interjected, "Watching lads throw hunks of trees… surely, it cannae be that enjoyable!"

"It's nae just lads throwing hunks of trees as ye put it, lassie. It's tradition, and that's what makes it interesting." He freed her hand from his arm. "Ye'll enjoy watching it, I'm sure of it."

Well, he was wrong. She didn't enjoy watching the game. Not even in the slightest. Then again, if she had paid more attention to the fields she might have but she was too distracted by the Laird.

"Ye seem to be elsewhere," Reed would often say, but she denied it every time.

"Not at all. I'm as focused as an owl at night!"

And she was… but not on the caber. She could not quiet her mind.

The Laird would be her sister's husband in a week or two, she was sure. She should not have been entertaining such thoughts about him, but her desire completely disobeyed her manners.

"Nae, a mere child!" one woman from the crowd cried, pointing at the field. Sophia turned to the sight of a boy, a contestant. He was laying on the ground, his leg twisted grossly beneath him, pinned in place by his caber. He must have slipped; now, he was yowling in pain.

Kendrick was the first to reach him. He pushed the caber aside before lowering himself to pick him up. Sophia dashed through the crowds and onto the field.

"Nae, milaird," she cried as she fell into a crouch beside him. "Dinnae lift him!"

A woman followed her, wailing uncontrollably. It was obvious from the way she cried that she was the boy's mother.

"His bones may be broken, milaird. His back… if ye lift him, ye might only do more damage." Sophia examined the boy's leg. "I need a stick and a piece of cloth to start."

Kendrick relayed her orders to his guards. Two men emerged. One handed her his kerchief and the other a field fence pole.

"I shall use this to prevent his bones from twisting as ye lift him. But ye must not lift him alone," she said to Kendrick. "Now, hold him tightly."

She straightened the boy's leg, and he winced his pain as she fastened the stay.

Four men, one for each limb, picked him up. Kendrick ordered them to the infirmary, the boy's mother close behind them.

As they reached the room, Kendrick placed him on the bed, but the old healer was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?" Kendrick shouted, helping Sophia in her search. She looked at the boy who was crying hysterically.

"Listen, milaird." She seized Kendrick by the shoulder, spinning him to face her. "There is nae time for this! We need to find a way to aid him now."

"How can I help?" Kendrick was trembling. As much as he seemed to have tried to hide it, he frowned guiltily whenever he looked at the boy.

"I need horsetail herbs and boiling water. In the healer's stores, there! Do ye have a garden of some sort?"

"The kitchen's garden, aye."

Sophia turned to the boy's mother. "Fetch lavender. Go with her!" she told a guard, and they ran out to get them. They returned a few minutes later.

Sophia boiled the herbs while tending to the boy. "This should do till the healer returns," she assured the boy's mother. "Yer son will be fine."

"Thank ye, mistress." The woman cupped Sophia's cheeks. "Thank ye!" She settled beside her son.

Kendrick looked himself over. His plaid was dirtied with mud from the games. "I should clean myself up," he drawled, and walked out of the infirmary.

Sophia followed him, needing answers.

"If I dare, milaird." She rubbed her hands on her dress. "I will ask for a moment to talk."

He stopped and turned to her. "Ye'd better hurry. I've things to do… and ye've a boy to mend."

Sophia shook her head. "Last night…" She paused, her head spinning with worry. "I saw ye… with a girl."

"I was with a girl, was I?"

"Yer maidservant. I heard her name is Catherine."

Kendrick snarled. "Should I explain myself to ye?" The tone of his voice was condescending in every way, and Sophia felt a shiver finding its way down her spine.

"Yer marrying my sister." She felt a sudden urge to strangle him. "So, aye, ye should."

"Tis yer sister I should be answering to, then."

"Ye would rather I tell her?" she growled, trying to avoid the fluttering in her belly.

"Do what ye like." He swiveled to leave, then without turning back he added, "Yer gown is smeared with mud. Ye should consider changing it," before walking away.

Whoever this new Kendrick was, Sophia was quite certain she detested him.

Her gaze fell to the floor. Suddenly, a shadow formed at the other side of the hallway. But when she looked over, it was gone.