Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance Read Online Free PDF Page B

well you know its cause I’ll wager. ‘Tis the bairn. She wills not to know her place, laird. She’s all the time lurkin’ about my kitchens and gettin’ underfoot as I work. ‘Tis not fittin’ for the lass to be runnin’ ‘round with the kitchen maids.”
    Giving his prized cook his best look of contrition, Laird Lachlan Donald let out a loud sigh. “’My sister swore that my daughter would quit her wild ways and settle into more ladylike behavior by her sixth summer, but clearly, ‘tis not come to pass. I shall speak to the lass forthwith. She shall be banished from the kitchens.”
    Maryn lay on her stomach with her cinnamon curls dancing as she wiggled and squirmed in an effort to keep her grip on her barnyard prize. The pet was her new best friend. Being the only bairn at the holding, Maryn’s friends tended to be of the four-legged sort. As she held the thing more securely against her chest, her fidgety pet tickled her neck with its long, scratchy fingers. Maryn snickered, then clamped her hand over her mouth.
    The musical sound of his daughter’s glee echoed faintly around Laird Donald. Smiling indulgently at the delightful tremolo, he looked around the hall for his wayward bairn. He’d have to chasten her for her sneakiness again, but he could not bring himself to be truly upset with her antics. For she was such a curious lass, and that was the cause of her mischief-making, he was sure. Tho’ ‘twas clear now that he’d need to rein her in a bit more, else his cook would surely revolt.
    Maryn’s pet tried to leap out of her hands again. “Nay,” she chided in a loud whisper, “you must not let Papa know we are here.”
    “Ah!” Laird Donald said as he craned his neck to look under his table. “‘Tis my wayward daughter that twitters so prettily! I was sure wee brownies had invaded my fortress.”
    Maryn giggled. “Papa, you are so silly. The brownies only come out at night!”
    The cook turned on her heel and stormed toward the entrance to the hall, muttering just loud enough for her laird to hear. “The lass is bein’ spoiled an’ needs to be taken in hand, she does.”
    Laird Donald cleared his throat, taking the not-so-subtle hint. “Maryn, attend me now. ‘Twas not good of you to eavesdrop. And stay out of Cook’s kitchen.”
    “But, Papa—!”
    “Nay, heed me, daughter,” her papa admonished. “I know the lure of the kitchen is a great one, but Cook has little patience for wee lasses who get underfoot.”
    “But, Papa…! ” she tried again.
    “Nay, lass, hear me well. She’ll quit me for sure and return to her clan—your dear mother’s clan—if you do not mind your papa and stay out of her way. And she is the best cook in the whole of the Highlands—‘twould not please me to lose her.”
    Maryn’s shoulders drooped as she bowed her head in defeat. “Aye, Papa.” Brightening, she lifted her eyes to her papa’s countenance. “But might I help the other maids when Cook is not about?”
    Her papa sighed and shook his head, giving her a lopsided smile. “We shall see. For now, just try and stay out of the kitchen.” His eyes narrowed. “What the devil have you got there, lass? You’re wiggling like a hooked salmon. Bring it out from under the table so I can get a good look at it, my neck’s getting a crick in it.”
    Maryn scooted out from her hiding place and, carefully clasping the wriggling, clammy toad in her outstretched hands, brought it up close to her father’s face for his inspection. “See Papa!” Her papa hauled his head back. “This be my best friend, Piddle,” she said happily.
    With raised eyebrows, Laird Donald replied dubiously, “Aye, looks like a good specimen.”
    “I found him this morn enjoying the air inside Old Elsie’s bucket of oats. I was afeared she might eat him if I did not take him out right away.” She nodded her head. “Remember you how blind the old mare is, Papa?”
    “Aye, that I do, lass.”
    “Anyway, as soon as I