The kitchen had plenty of stools. Cora pulled one from where it was pushed beneath the center work table and lowered herself onto it. Her feet enjoyed the respite as she took a long look around what had become her domain.
The kitchen bunks were formed by solid rock. Instead of filling in the space when they’d built the wall, they had left it open to form a bed for one person. One above the other, they were next to the main hearth. The two bunks would make fine sleeping beds for whoever was assigned the task of making the first meal of the day. In a larger household, it might be two maids or the boys who turned the meat on the spit.
All that was needed was a pallet and sleeping blankets.
Cora found them stored away. Clearly, some of the women who had been sent to the remote tower had slept there. They’d rolled the pallets up to keep rodents from nesting in them during the winter.
Cora pulled one down and sat it in the lower bunk. She reached for the knot in the tie.
“Fancy another ride over me shoulder, Mistress?” Faolan asked from behind her.
Cora jumped. “How do ye move so silently?”
His lips curved into a grin. “A man does nae bring home much to eat if he cannae sneak up upon his prey.”
There was a glint in his eyes.
A warning.
One which stroked her determination.
“Clearly, the other women slept here,” Cora began to make her argument.
“They were not ye,” Faolan replied firmly.
“I see no difference.”
Faolan stepped into the kitchen. Cora turned her back on the bunk in favor of making sure she watched him.
“Ye are different, Cora. And do nae try to tell me ye do nae understand that yer brother indulged ye. How many other Mackenzie lasses were out riding alongside ye?” His gaze was serious as he contemplated her.
Cora felt the bite of guilt. “Why do men insist their brides sit and waste the day in a solar so that there might be no question of her innocence?” She narrowed her eyes. “I have no stomach for such boredom.” It wasn’t a topic she should have been discussing with him. No, it was more the conversation she had been warned to never voice again. “Ye use the word indulge as a judgment against me.” She lifted her hand to indicate the kitchen. “Yet, I’d wager ye are happy I am here.”
Faolan stepped closer. One of his dark eyebrows was rising. He’d crossed his arms over his chest when he first arrived, but now, he unfolded them as he closed the distance between them.
“Of course, ye do nae have the temperament for such a life,” Faolan remarked. “The fire in ye is plain to see with those red curls on yer head.”
“Me red hair is no’ a curse,” Cora responded quickly. “Why is it my every flaw is blamed on the color of me hair? Is yer soul black just because yer hair is dark?”
His lips twitched. For a moment, a very pleased, very male grin was there in plain sight. “There are other reasons me soul is dark, lass.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Faolan looked at her so very differently from the other men she’d encountered.
Like a woman…
She stepped back as she put words to her feelings. A surge of approval went through her as she realized just how correct she was. Faolan didn’t look away from her, didn’t hide the harder elements of his nature from her. He was a man, and he didn’t have any intention of shielding her from seeing it.
“I did no’ call yer hair a curse, Cora.” His gaze shifted to the edge of the fabric she’d tied over her head to keep the soot and flour from it. “If I had no’ seen ye shaking yer fist at the sky, I would have still guessed ye have a fiery temperament from it, though.”
His eyes had narrowed. She was suddenly struggling to draw breath, somehow caught in each moment as though something was about to happen. His gaze had dropped to her lips, which made her heart thump harder.
“A woman such as ye…is someone…” He paused as he considered his next words.
Cora chuckled softly. “Whatever word ye settle on, I have heard it applied to me before.” She shrugged as a shiver went down her spine. “Hellion, unbridled, spitfire…”
“Only fools would label ye such.”
Cora was fascinated by his words. She stood in place, even as he closed the last few paces between them.
He was watching her, his head angled down because of how close they were.
“So ye have another word for me?”
“Aye,” he whispered.
She wanted to hear it. Unspoken, the idea of what he thought of her tantalized her. Her lips suddenly went dry as she waited to hear him speak.
But a moment later, he’d scooped her off her feet.
She let out a startled cry as he tossed her over his shoulder and turned toward the doorway.
“Put me down!” she demanded. But she wasn’t going to wait for him to comply. She flattened her hands against his lower back and tried to push her lower body up.
Faolan smacked her on the bottom.
She gasped, her face heated from more than the fact that the blood was rushing toward it.
“How dare ye!” she demanded.
Whatever he might have said was drowned out as he left the kitchen and ventured into the hall. The rest of the McKay Retainers were there. It took only a moment before they were hooting with amusement. Their laughter bounced between the stone walls, following them into the passageway.
Faolan never faltered as he carried her up the steps and into his chamber. He tossed her onto the bed and then flattened his hands on either side of her, caging her with his thick arms.
“Tempting,” he said softly. “That is the word I would use to describe ye, Cora.”
His attention focused on her mouth. For a moment, she watched the way he battled the urge to kiss her.
But it was only a momentary lapse. His expression hardened as he pushed up and away from her.
“Unlike yer brother, I am not some laird who must always be concerned with balancing everyone’s likes and dislikes. Here, ye will do as I command, Cora. Stay in this chamber. Step one foot outside it before first light, and I promise ye, I will bind ye before bringing ye back here.”
His tone made it clear she shouldn’t test him.
But Cora pushed off the bed anyway. He closed the door firmly as her skirts settled around her ankles.
Bind her?
He wouldn’t dare.
Yes, he would.
Her temper was no match for the reality of the way Faolan had carried her up the stairs.
Improper didn’t even begin to describe how far he’d ventured off the path of polite conduct.
He made her breathless.
She snorted and ordered the little voice inside her head to be silent.
But doing so allowed her to see that once again, the room was prepared for her. The basin of water was there, and the kettle had steam rising from it to let her know she might indulge in cleaning her face and neck with warm water. Now she knew there were no maids in the tower to see to such tasks, so Faolan must have done it.
So personal. It wasn’t proper. Not nearly so.
Aye, he takes that approach with ye sure enough…
Cora might have continued to allow her temper to flare, but she moved toward the basin of water. Sitting beside it was the soap and a comb. Two squares of linen were there as well.
Faolan might be forward, but he was also caring. She couldn’t ignore the fact that he could so very easily dismiss her comfort under the guise of propriety.