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“But . . . but, my lady,” one of the girls sputtered, “Lady MacLean wil no’ be pleased. ’Tis no’ al of her menu.”
“Katrina, you said you’ve worked in the kitchens a long time. Is this enough food to feed the numbers they’re expecting?”
“Aye, more than enough.”
“But Lady MacLean wants it special.” The other girl was clearly upset, winding her apron around her fingers. Ali sighed. With a hand to her back, she rose to her feet.
“You leave Lady MacLean to me.” She heard a familiar cackle from the back of the room and smiled. Removing the apron one of the girls had given her, she set it on the stool.
“You’ve al done a wonderful job, and I’m sure it’s a meal Lord MacLeod wil be proud to serve his guests. I’m going to head back to the keep now. Leave Cook to sleep for a bit longer, but if he takes a turn for the worse, come and get me.”
“My lady,” Katrina cal ed out as Ali went to leave.
“Thank ye fer al yer help. ’Tis no’ often a lady would lower herself to aid the likes of us.”
Ali’s throat tightened, and she swal owed past the bal of emotion. “It was my pleasure and, Katrina, in no way did I lower myself. Don’t ever think that.”
“Lady Aileanna, have a care around Lady MacLean,”
the old woman advised, her pale blue eyes piercing even from across the dimly lit room. “Laird MacLean as wel . The two of them have it in fer ye. I’l do what I can to help ye, lass, but it would be best if ye had a care.” Having said her piece, the old woman slipped out through a back en
trance Ali hadn’t noticed before.
“Who . . . who is that?” Ali asked, turning to the girls.
“’Tis old lady Cameron. She holds sway over much of the clan. A good one to have in yer corner with what —”
Katrina began before she clapped a hand over her mouth. The frame of the door creaked when Ali leaned against 142
it. “Obviously
“We doona’ believe them, Lady Aileanna, and we’l tel as many who wil listen,” Katrina promised. The other girls chimed in their agreement.
“Thank you. Now why don’t you al go out and sit under the tree with Cook for a bit.”
The four of them smiled, but it seemed they chose to ignore her suggestion as they busied themselves with one task after another. Ali left them, her protest dying on her lips. She might object to their being treated like slave labor, but it was obvious they didn’t feel the same. They were proud to provide for their clan, and it wasn’t Ali’s place to disabuse them. She wouldn’t, but she was going to make damn sure their efforts were appreciated. Exhausted, Ali barely managed to shove the heavy doors to the keep open. The air in the cavernous entrance was de cidedly cooler than the kitchens—a welcome relief. She lifted her hair to shake out some of the dampness and noticed the gleaming floors and the high sheen of the wood paneling. Ali rol ed her eyes—Moira MacLean. She wondered how Mrs. Mac and Mari had fared. Hopeful y they’d had the good sense to hide out in her room. Two serving girls smiled wanly at her greeting. Just as she was about to take the stairs to her room, she heard Mari cry out. Ali rushed into the great hal , fol owing her young maid’s panicked cry. Mrs. Mac swayed on top of a very tal wooden stool, broom in hand. “For God’s sake, Mrs. Mac, what are you doing up there?” Ali cal ed out as she hurried across the room.
Ali reached her side and steadied the makeshift ladder.
“You get down from there, right now.”
“Och, I’m fine. I’ve only one more of the banners to clean,” Mrs. Mac protested in a tired voice. LORD OF THE ISLES
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Ali took the broom from her and handed it to Mari. “I’l do it. I’m tal er than you are. Come on, off you get.”
Mrs. Mac sighed. “’Tis a bossy one you are,” she said, climbing down from her perch. Ali reached out to steady her. “Look at the two of you. You’re exhausted.”
“You doona’ look much better yerself, my lady. I didna’
think her highness would put you to work as wel .” Mrs. Mac raised a brow.
“She didn’t. It’s a long story,” Ali said as she careful y climbed to the top of the stool, steadying herself with a hand on the stone wal . “And where is her
“She’d be havin’ her toilette seen to,” Mari said, hand
ing her the broom.
Ali beat the long banner. Clouds of dust bil owed in the air, making her cough. “Is that right?” She seethed as she pounded the cloth with renewed vigor.
The continuous loud thwack of the wooden broom hitting stone drowned out the sound of the men returning home. It was why when Rory’s deep voice cal ed out to her, Ali, who was lost in her own thoughts, forgot where she was and jumped. Losing her footing, she grabbed hold of the edge of the banner. The stool toppled over, leaving Ali to swing pre
