Kate pressed out a smile. “Aye. Well, yes. Thank you, Cadha.”
“Follow me.”
They went into the house again and climbed the circular stairs of the tower. Cadha told Kate that on the first floor was the lord’s hall and a chamber, on the second were three bedrooms, and on the third was the biggest bedroom of all—the lord’s bedchamber—and another small chamber. The stairs continued up from the third floor, and that was where Cadha led Kate.
“Maids sleep in the garret,” Cadha explained through a strained breath. “We dinna have any currently. I do all the housekeeping, but as ye can see, I’m nae enough. Cooks used to sleep in the kitchen, but the old lord, God rest his soul, was kind enough to allow Manning and me to live in what used to be a larder. We’re nae young chickens nae more.”
She finally climbed into the attic and stood, panting, before a small door. Kate joined her, breathing heavily as well.
“I used to sleep here, too, with the maids, when we had any. Now ’tis for ye. A luxury, havin’ a room all to yerself.”
She opened the door into a room with a low ceiling, one side of which slanted down at a steep angle. There was only one small window on the opposite wall, and the shutters were closed. It smelled like dust and mice. Kate could see five beds in total.
“Sorry, dearie, ’tis nae tidy. No one has been living here since our Ian was gone. That was when the old lord started to decline.” She sighed heavily, her face sad. “Everything changed that year. ’Twas as though the lord didna ken what to live for any longer. And didna want to. Stopped caring about the rent collection. About the household. What he ate. What he drank. Stayed indoors. He’d already been grieving his whole life after his wife died. But after Ian… All his lands became like him. Lost and uncared for.”
Kate listened with an aching heart. She knew Ian had been away and had been assumed dead, but she hadn’t given much thought to what it had meant for his family. Seeing this great house in such a condition of desolation said it all. Her hands itched to clean it and make it better.
“I’ll help you with cleaning and tidying whenever I can. I like to be useful.”
Cadha reached out and squeezed her elbow. “Well, aren’t ye a dearie! Thank ye, lass. And dinna fash, ’tis only us four ye’ll be cooking for—the lord, ye, Manning, and me. Mayhap the lord will have occasional guests. I take care of the chickens and the cows. There’s a groom and a shepherd who come from the village. So ’tis just us.”
She sighed again, then quickly narrowed her eyes.
“Do ye think ye’re marrit? Have any bairns?”
The earlier kiss with Ian consumed Kate’s mind, the heat of his body, the soft and delicious feel of his lips against hers. God, what if she were married? Kate blushed. She had no way of knowing, but something within her told her she was not.
“I don’t think so.”
“Aye. Good,” Cadha said with a satisfied smile.
But why it was good, she didn’t explain.
Chapter 10
Ian stared at Kate’s meat pie in front of him. It was just him and the pie in the dusty great hall. Cadha had served him his dinner.
Not Kate.
He supposed it was Cadha’s task, after all, as the housekeeper, not a cook’s. But he wanted to see Kate.
He couldn’t put the kiss from earlier today out of his mind. Her warmth, her softness, the luscious taste of her, the feel of her body—pliable and strong at the same time…
But there was more. She was a mystery. A beautiful, broken mystery.
And he knew what broken was.
Ian took the pie and bit into it, closing his eyes to shut out the devastating loneliness of the dirty, empty great hall. The stone walls pressed in on him.
He remembered last time he’d been here. His father had held a gathering of his clansmen, tenants, tacksmen, and friends. It was after they’d freed Marjorie and Ian had returned home with the clansmen who’d participated in the battle. There were the heraldic sigils of the Cambel clan on the walls, the chatter, the feast to celebrate their victory. His father had been less mournful than usual. The hall had been lit with candles. A lyre played and people sang. Then men had fought, which often happened after a few cups of uisge.
Did Ian want the great hall to ring with life like that again?
No. He couldn’t face his father’s people, look them in the eye and have them swear an oath of allegiance to him.
Not when he didn’t have any intention of fighting anymore. Not when all he wanted was to be left alone.
But whether he wanted to or not, he’d need to face the people of his lands.
Because there was still one thing he owed his father’s memory.
He shoved the last piece of the pie into his mouth and was about to stand up and find Kate when he heard footsteps from the hallway.
“Kate?” he called.
The steps halted, then she walked in, and he swore the dim room became brighter.
“Yes?” she said.
She wasn’t smiling. In fact, her face was tense, her eyes distant. He hated that it was probably because of how he’d stopped and withdrawn from their kiss.
“Come, sit.” He gestured at the chair next to him. “Please.”
She hesitated for a moment, then sat by his side.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“Aye, aye. The pie is…” He made an awkward gesture to describe how delicious it was, but the words stuck in his throat.
Instead, he gave a nod, already hating himself for such awkwardness.
“I will need to throw a wake and a burial for my father,” he said. “To honor his memory, I’m going to invite all the tenants, clansmen, and friends
