her cheek. Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry anymore. She’d cried enough to fill Loch Ness last night.
“You won’t be going back. You’re Aedan’s soul mate, and ye have to take back what’s yours.”
The resolve behind Gwen’s voice brooked no argument. “You cannot be serious. I’m not going to break his engagement. As much as I love the guy, I’m not going to sink to that level.” She paused, hating the fact she’d actually thought of this idea herself, but didn’t want to voice it out loud. She needed to keep some sort of moral compass. “And even if I wanted to, contracts have been signed between the clans. I’d probably cause another war, if Aedan chose me.”
Gwen scoffed. “Aline is not for him. Ye must do something, though I can’t tell you what. I will give you a home should ye wish to leave here, but I’ll not let ye go back to your own time. Your future is here, Abigail. You may not think so now, but ’tis true. Trust in his love, that’s all I ask.”
“I know he loves me, but as he said, things change. Life sometimes gets in the way of what we wish. He has a duty, Gwen, and I’ll not cause trouble for him, no matter how much I want him to be mine.” She stood, needing air. “I’ll see you later. I’m going for a quick walk before dinner.”
“Do ye love my brother, Abigail?”
Abby stopped at the threshold and studied the knots in the oak door. “More than anything in the world.”
“Then whether the path is right or wrong, you have one to walk. I have faith that people who’re born for one another, will find each other…eventually.”
Abby left, and hearing the sound of loud voices from the great hall, decided against a walk and went back to her room. She closed the door and leaned against it. The situation was heartbreakingly hopeless.
The next day, Abby had Cook make up a small picnic for herself. She wandered about the kitchen while the food was prepared. Two large fires burned and meats rotated above one, while on the other pots with an assortment of fragrances wafted from them. Two tables, L-shaped in their set-out, were covered with plates, cooked pies, and biscuits and apples.
“Do you leave the food out once it’s cooked or do you have a place to store it?”
The older woman wiped her hands on her apron, a little flushed from work. “We have a larder my lady, over there,” she said, waving to the opposite side of the room.
Abby went over to it and peeked inside. It was as warm as the kitchen and probably not the best place for food that required refrigeration. “You should put in an ice room beneath the kitchens, to help keep your perishable food longer and stop it from going bad.”
The staff in the kitchens stopped and looked at Abby with something akin to bewilderment. “What in all things holy is an ice room?”
“During the winter you’d collect ice, you could cut it from the top of a frozen loch. You would then place that ice into a stone room, away from heat and light. The ice will remain frozen for a very long time and you could store your meats and milks, things like that, within the ice room, and it’ll keep for a much longer time. At present, you salt your meat quite a lot to preserve it, and that would no longer be necessary.”
“And have ye seen such an ice room before, my lady? I know I never have.”
How did Abigail tell them that the ancient Romans had used them for years, and that in archaeological digs, even possibly China. “I have seen them.” Or what was left of such structures on old estates scattered about England. “When you store the ice, you insulate it with straw or sawdust to make it last longer. You should see if the laird would approve one. I think you’d find it a blessing, once you got used to using it.”
The cook pursed her lips, nodding a little. “Mayhap I’ll think on it and ask the laird when next I speak to him about the kitchens.” She placed the last of her food into a small basket and handed it to Abby. “Here ye are. Enjoy yer day, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Abby said, heading out the door that led off to the side of the castle. Not too far from the estate she found