Highland Courage(33)
“My lady, I do not have the time to spend days going over the books with ye.”
“I don’t expect ye to go over them with me. I can review them on my own and return them to ye when I am through. Please deliver them to my solar this morning.”
Oren’s sallow face turned nearly purple. He practically hissed, “Ye may warm Laird Matheson’s bed now, but that fact certainly doesn’t qualify ye to run this keep. If ye think Laird Matheson is going to let an upstart MacKenzie lass take over his well-run household, start issuing orders, and delve into his financial affairs, I’ll warrant ye have another thing coming.”
Mairead looked down for a moment to compose herself. This was not going well. “Oren, ye and I have gotten off to a very bad start, and that was not my intention, but I am Lady Matheson. And yet, for some reason ye feel it is acceptable to ignore my requests and speak to me with frank hostility. I know ye have been an invaluable asset to this clan for many years, so I am going to overlook this one last time. I assure ye my actions are consistent with Laird Matheson’s expectations. I have spoken with him on the matter.”
“Pardon me, my lady, if I am unwilling to accept your word on this. I will speak with the laird, and we’ll just see what his expectations are.”
“Ye must do what ye think is best. However, after ye speak to him, please deliver the books to my solar.”
Looking angry enough to burst, Oren turned to leave, and Mairead stopped him. “Oren, before ye take your leave, I have a bit of advice for ye.”
He turned around, looking stunned, and arched one eyebrow, hissing “And what’s that, Lady Matheson?”
“When ye speak to my husband on this matter, ye may wish to avoid phrases such as ‘upstart MacKenzie lass’ when referring to me. I can promise ye he will be less tolerant than I have been.”
Oren turned and stormed out of the hall without another word.
Although it gave her a moment of satisfaction, Mairead was not happy about the interaction with Oren. She was shocked at her own boldness, but it occurred to her it is very hard to be shy and angry at the same time. This was not the way she wanted to deal with the staff at Cnocreidh; however, Oren hadn’t really given her a choice. After the unpleasant confrontation it became clear she would probably have a more productive conversation with Ide if she spoke with her alone. Oren did not seem overly disposed to be helpful, so she headed out of the keep in search of the kitchens.
The kitchens were located behind the keep, but connected by a covered walkway. Mairead walked into the main kitchen, and although she had never met the cook, she instantly identified Ide by her efficiency and the tone of unquestioned authority in her voice as she directed the work underway. Ide was tall and sturdily built; she wore a kertch over her braided dark hair, and her weathered face suggested she had at least two score and ten years to her credit.
Mairead stood just inside the door. She intended to wait to address Ide until the older woman had finished her litany of instructions to her staff. However, as soon as Ide glanced toward Mairead she stopped to ask, “My lady, is there something I can do for ye?”
“Aye, I would like to discuss a few things with ye, but I can see ye are quite busy. I am happy to wait until ye have a free moment.”
“Of course, my lady, I’ll just get this lot organized then I’ll give ye all the time ye need. Ye are welcome to wait here, or I’ll find ye in the great hall.”
“If I won’t be in the way, I will wait here.”
“Suit yourself, then.” She pulled out a chair from the large worktable, indicating where Mairead should sit. While she finished giving orders, she put some dried herbs in a small jug and added boiling water along with a liberal amount of honey. When she had given the kitchen staff their marching orders, Ide poured the hot herbal tisane into two mugs and brought them to the table. “Do ye mind if I sit with ye, my lady?”
Mairead smiled. “Not at all, please do.”
“Ye might like this.” The cook put a steaming mug on the table in front of Mairead without preamble.
“Thank ye.” Mairead nodded. She inhaled the delicious aroma before taking a sip. “Oh my, it is very good.”
“It is brewed from oregano, thyme, and mint,” said Ide matter-of-factly.
Mairead gave a little laugh. “Thyme is for courage. My sisters would approve. It was in my wreath, my bouquet, and even my bath water on my wedding day.”
“And did they think ye needed so very much courage to marry the laird?” Ide made no attempt to hide the slightly disapproving tone in her bold question.