“These are our children.” Mr. MacDuff touched the head of each one. “Blaine, Rose, and Adam.”
The little girl he’d introduced as Rose held a squirming kitten in her arms. She walked up to them and held the animal out to Katie. “This is for ye, my lady.”
The sweet little thing was as black as night, with eyes so blue, they matched the sky. “Nay, thank ye anyway,” MacNeil said at the same time as Katie said, “Thank ye. I will take good care of it.”
He glowered at her. “We have enough pets, Mistress Stirling.”
“’Tis a gift, my laird. To me.”
“We cannot accept it, Mistress.” They stood facing each other, her spine straight, his eye beginning to twitch.
Wee Rose looked back and forth between them and burst into tears.
Chapter Eight
“In two days we’ve acquired a goat and a kitten. If this keeps up, there won’t be any room for people at the castle,” MacNeil groused as they rode away from the MacDuff cottage. He studied the kitten perched on Katie’s lap.
“The wee lass was crying her little heart out. How could we turn her down?” Katie snuggled the tiny ball of fur against her chest, bringing Evan’s eyes right where he didn’t want them to be: her full bosoms, nicely outlined in her worn gown, where the cursed animal snuggled. He wondered how it would feel to be snuggled up against her. He quickly turned his attention to the road, dismissing that outrageous thought.
“Who is next on our list, my laird?” Katie nodded toward the paper he held.
“I believe, since we will be working together for quite some time, that ye may address me as Evan and I address you as Katie. All of this ‘my laird’ and ‘mistress’ is becoming cumbersome.”
“Aye. ’Tis true.”
Even though using their given names wasn’t the best idea, since he didn’t want to encourage any sort of closeness between them, it would make their interactions a bit simpler. That’s the only reason.
Soon he might believe it.
“The next cottage belongs to the Widow Fiona MacDuff. She makes tartans, stockings, and tams that she sells at the marketplace. She must do a good job, because her rents are all paid up.” He made a turn to the right, and Katie followed him over a small hill to the cottage in front of them—a small, snug, well-kept house.
They approached the door, and Evan knocked. The wind whistled around them, reminding him that time was passing, and winter would be setting in soon. He must get this finished and be on his way. Katie tightened her shawl around her and shivered. After a minute or so, he knocked again. Still no answer.
“Perhaps she’s gone to visit a neighbor?” Katie looked around as if to see if the woman was on her way home.
The door slowly opened, and an older woman stood there. Her silver hair hung down around her shoulders, she was flushed, and her eyes were a dull bloodshot hue. “Are ye the new laird?” He barely heard the words that came out of her mouth, so raspy were they.
“Aye, Mrs. MacDuff, I am Laird MacNeil.”
She opened the door wider, and they were greeted by pungent smells and a chaotic mess. Bowls with dried food sat on the table; more were piled in a large bucket. A halfway full cauldron hung from the fireplace with rancid food.
Katie pushed past him. “Mrs. MacDuff, I believe ye are quite ill.”
The woman nodded and swayed on her feet.
“Evan, carry Mrs. MacDuff into the bedroom.”
He scooped the woman up into his arms; she weighed no more than a bairn. He carried her through the doorway to a small room with a cot and several hooks on the walls. The smell in that room was worse than in the outer room.
“Never mind,” Katie said. She apparently was overtaken by the smell herself. “Bring her back out to the small sofa in the front. I will examine her there.”
Within minutes Katie was ordering him about, demanding he find clean cloths and then to bring in cool water from the nearby brook. Meanwhile, the poor woman just lay there, her eyes closed, the sound of wheezing in her chest filling the room.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked as he returned with the cool water.
“I believe she suffers from an ague.” She looked at Mrs. MacDuff. “Do ye live alone?”
“Aye.” The word was a mere sigh from her mouth.
“I will make ye comfortable, and then we’re bringing ye back to the castle. I can tend to ye properly there.” She looked up at Evan. “Look for a warm blanket we can wrap her in. Ye will have to take her on yer horse. The sooner I get her in a warm room, with my medicine bag handy, the better she will feel.”
Evan felt as though he was on a horse racing toward a cliff. His orderly day, with cottages he’d planned to visit and make notes on, had resulted in the addition of one mewling kitten and one very ill woman to the household. He knew none of this was Katie’s direct fault, but it seemed chaos had reigned in his life ever since he’d almost run her over in the road on the way to the castle.
“Aye,” was all he could say as he roamed the house, looking for a blanket that didn’t smell too bad. Apparently, the woman had been sick for a while and hadn’t been able to make it to the privy.
Katie did a few things for the woman, running a cloth with cool water over her face, arms, and legs, then ordered—ordered— him to wrap Mrs. MacDuff in the somewhat clean blanket he’d found and carry her to his horse.
She followed him, grabbed the kitten by the back of her neck—the blasted thing
