Excellent. They just needed to rise overnight, and Cook could slide them into the special slot in the hearth tomorrow morning. There was a baker in town with a larger oven, but the castle provided enough for its denizens’ usual consumption.
Tired, but happy, Lara bent over the table with a wet rag and began cleaning up the flour in front of her, along with the rest of the mess in the kitchen from the earlier meal preparations.
She was just finishing when she heard one of the other women suck in a sharp breath and exclaim, “Milord!”
Lara glanced up curiously, but when she saw who it was, she slowly straightened, the rag hanging forgotten in her hand.
Alistair was coming down the stairs. And he didn’t look pleased.
When he snapped, “Where have ye been? I’ve been looking for ye!” no one could doubt he was speaking to Lara.
She glanced around to see the other women had gone back to their chores, but were listening, for certes. So she lifted her chin and faced Alistair. “I’ve had work to do.”
“Ye have no’ been in the kitchen all afternoon; I checked. And ye missed the meal again as well.”
He was almost to her by now, and she couldn’t deny it felt as if he were stalking toward her. There was anger in the way he held himself.
“A—aye.” She studied him, wondering why he was acting this way. “I carried washing to the village and back today, then cleaned my and Mam’s room, then I helped— What is wrong, Alistair?”
Behind her, someone muffled their gasp, which reminded her they had an audience, and she’d just called the laird’s son by his given name, a show of familiarity.
He stopped before her, and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. He was so tall, so strong, so big all over. But despite the flash of anger she saw now in his blue eyes, she wasn’t afraid of him, could never be afraid of him.
“What is it, Alistair?” she whispered again.
To her surprise, he lifted a hand, and before she could wonder his intentions, he cupped her cheek with it. The sensation of his palm pressing against her skin caused her to suck in a breath. There was so much emotion—so much passion—in his eyes! Anger, aye, but others as well. And the heat! Blessed Virgin, the heat between them, pooling between her legs…
“Are ye a virgin?”
The words were so unexpected, Lara actually jerked backward, away from his touch. But then she surged toward him once more, unwilling to allow their bond to be severed. Still, that didn’t stop her from hissing, “What!”
The anger was still there in his gaze, but there was more. The need she saw there grew, until it seemed to overwhelm the ire almost entirely.
But his voice was steady, only slightly above a whisper, when he clarified, “Have ye been intimate with a man, Lara?”
This was not the conversation she’d expected to be having with him, but whatever the topic, she was happy to spend any time with him she could.
However…
Her eyes flicked to the back of the other women’s heads. “This is no’ the place, Alistair.”
He blew out a breath. “Ye’re right. Where can we go?”
So he wanted to continue this conversation? She was more than happy to oblige.
“My room is nearby. Come with me.” When she stepped away, his hand dropped, but only as far as it took for her to grab it. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it, and simply followed her.
The room she shared with her mother was comparatively large. Not as big as the chambers above the great hall, but quite roomy for a housekeeper and her children, nonetheless. Lara’s father had been the seneschal at Oliphant Castle, so she supposed the chambers were a fitting size for him, his housekeeper wife, and their offspring. Now, Moira shared the room with only Lara since her husband had passed and Brohn had moved to the barracks.
As Alistair closed the door behind him, Lara tried to see the chambers through his eyes. There was a big bed, much bigger than the cot in the solar he’d slept on for the last few years. Mam made sure the pillows were always comfortable, and Lara herself had cleaned the bedclothes today. There were a few trunks and hooks with their gowns hanging, as well as knickknacks and gifts Moira had collected over the years.
Lara frowned thoughtfully at the treasured glass bottle of scent which stood on a platter atop one of the trunks. Where had Mam gotten such nice gifts over the years? Had they been trinkets from the laird?
“I remember this room,” Alistair said in a soft voice, stepping closer to the bed. “Once, when I tried to climb the curtain wall and fell, Moira brought me here to clean my cuts.”
There was little to say except, “Aye,” then she cleared her throat. “My mother and I share this chamber now. Ye and I can talk; we willnae be disturbed.”
“Except by yer mother?”
Lara glanced at the empty wall beside the hearth. From here it appeared normal, but she knew it hid an entrance to the secret passages throughout the castle. “Nay,” she said slowly. “My mother will no’ be back this evening. She’s found another bed.”
‘Twas not an uncommon occurrence, and it had never bothered Lara before. But now, she was curious about the truth of Alistair’s theory—Nessa’s too—about the laird being Mam’s lover.
At the news they were alone, Alistair blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I shouldnae have asked ye such an intimate question in front of others. I should’ve waited until we were alone.”
“But we wouldnae be alone if ye hadnae asked me such an intimate question,” she pointed out.
A grin flashed across his lips, though it was there and gone in an instant. “True.”
Lara wasn’t the kind of person to avoid the issue at hand. “Why does my virginity matter to ye, Alistair?”
His hands curled into fists by his sides, and he stood statue-still, staring at her. She could see his brain whirling behind his eyes, trying to come up with an acceptable answer.
“Dinnae feel ye need to lie to me,” she commanded softly.
At her words, she saw the slightest softening of the muscles along his jaw and neck.
“What ye did, Lara, in my solar…”
“Ye dinnae like it?”
He relaxed further at the challenge in her voice. “Ye ken I did. And I ken ye knew exactly what ye were doing. I dinnae care that ye’re no’ a virgin, Lara. I care that ye’ve given yer heart to a man who’s taken what ye offered, but hasnae married ye yet.”
Her pulse had sped up when he’d admitted he’d liked what they’d shared, and it continued to pound in her temples as he spoke. He believed she was experienced, so did that mean he’d be willing to continue her experience?
But then the last part caught up with her brain. He believed she’d had sex with another man—the man she’d confessed she loved!
The irony, of course, wasn’t lost on her. She’d never been with a man, but she knew exactly what she liked. And as for the one who held her heart…?
Well, he was currently standing in her room, beside her bed, watching her hungrily.
This was her chance. Her chance to grab the pleasure she’d always known she wanted.
Trying for a seductive expression—and hoping it didn’t make her look as if her bowels were obstructed—Lara reached nonchalantly for her kirtle’s ties. “Ye care, Alistair? Ye’d care if I was hurt by some man’s actions?”