Ian looked at his feet. “Alan, please honor my father’s memory by eating some of the food.”
As the burly tacksman nodded slowly and walked away to the table, Ian couldn’t shake the feeling of betraying his people.
A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn. Kate came in with plates full of small, steaming pies. Her face flushed, no doubt from the heat in the kitchen, she smiled and greeted people. She put the plates down and asked groups of guests at every table something, and they nodded in approval.
How could they not like her cooking? Of course they approved.
She quickly glanced up and met Ian’s eyes. She flashed him a quick smile, and he nodded, his gut filling with lightness just from seeing her. She nodded back, turned, and walk away.
What a bonnie, hardworking, skillful woman. She had just had some bad luck. If he could, he would help her find her way back home to make her happy. Or put the world at her feet.
Only, no matter how much he might do, she deserved better than a broken man like him.
And so did his people.
Chapter 12
The next day…
Kate wiped the table with a cloth to remove bread crumbs and the remnants of parsnip peels under the unhappy growling of Manning. She liked the kitchen clean and tidy, but even after several days she’d spent in Dundail, Manning still complained.
“She wants to wipe everything,” he mumbled as he kneaded the dough for bread. “How many times must one go to fetch water? And how much vinegar did she waste?”
Kate tried to block out his complaints, but they started to affect her anyway. Her heart beat faster, and her jaws tightened in an attempt to stop her retort.
Don’t say something you might regret. You can never take it back. And they will never forget it.
The words rang in her head, loud and hot, in her mother’s voice. The voice from her visions.
Kate stopped wiping and leaned on the table, her heart thumping in her chest. Well, she’d finally succeeded in having Manning shut his mouth. He stared at her with a frown.
“Are ye well, lass?” he asked. “Ye look like ye’re in pain.”
Kate straightened. “No, I’m all right.”
He shook his head and resumed peeling. “Then dinna pretend to be. Get back to work.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to clean.”
“I dinna want ye to make new rules in my kitchen. Ye come with all yer new recipes for pies, yer suggestions for food, yer…yer…telling me how to hold a knife. I have been a cook longer than ye’ve lived.”
Kate sighed. “I only want to help.”
“Ye want to help?” He stopped and looked at her, pure menace in his eyes. “Ye get out. Ye leave. I dinna need another cook. Ian kens me. He kens my cooking, and he likes it. Ye… Who kens who ye really are? Yer strange way of talking, how ye cook. Ye dinna ken how to light the oven! What cook doesna ken how to light the oven? And why do ye use so much salt, huh, when ye ken ’tis as valuable as gold?”
His scolding was getting to her again. She couldn’t have felt more like an outsider, like an imposing fly, than she did at this moment.
“Look, if you want me gone, you’ll have to talk to Ian,” she said, fighting tears. “He’s the one who hired me.”
“Aye, dinna fash yerself, lass. I will talk to Ian. Ye will be gone from my kitchen. Ian has a big heart, and he felt sorry for ye. But everybody kens here, ye’re not needed!”
He couldn’t have pressed on a more painful spot. Right where she already hurt. And if he was saying the very thing she’d been afraid of, it must be true.
Ian felt sorry for her but, in truth, didn’t need or want her here. And the last thing she wanted was to be a problem. Eating his food. Occupying his house. Taking his money—which, it didn’t look like he had a lot of anyways.
She really should go. If only she knew where…
But for now, she couldn’t stand being in a room with someone who didn’t want her there. “You know what, Manning, I don’t know why I remembered your recipe, but it certainly wasn’t because you’re a nice person. You want me out of your kitchen? Drown in filth for all I care.”
She threw the cloth on the table, turned, and hit a hot, hard wall of man.
She recognized his scent immediately—that mysterious mixture of something exotic, and the midnight forest, and his own male musk.
Ian.
He took her shoulders in his hands and steadied her. The touch sent a current of excitement through her, and melted her bones at the same time.
“Ye all right, lass?” Ian asked.
“Yes,” she breathed out, all anger and disappointment gone, replaced by a sensation of playful bubbles in her stomach.
His brown eyes on her, Ian nodded and released her, then stepped back a little.
He glanced at Manning, then at her. “I wanted to thank ye both for what ye did for the wake yesterday. I couldna have wished a better feast to honor my father.”
Manning glanced at Kate with a cold look, as if to say that she shouldn’t even dare to take any of the gratitude on herself. “Aye, lad,” he said. “Anything for yer father.”
Kate wished she could have gone to the burial yesterday, too, to give Ian moral support. As she’d found out, women didn’t go to the burials. He’d been pale and sad all day—understandably. But he was also withdrawing from the people and the world around him. He was respected by his tenants. She saw that in the way they talked to him. But he wasn’t responding. It was as though he’d wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.
“Are you all right, Ian?” she asked.
He glanced sharply at her, his face tensing. “Aye, I’m all right.”
“You look—”
“I said I’m
