Highland Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon #6) - Genevieve Jack Page 0,28
If Xavier was dead, she had no way to get back home and no way to get a message to Nathaniel. She owned three skirts, one top, and a leather bag with money meant to last her only a few days. What was she going to do? How was she going to survive?
She’d thought of all those things when she’d lied to Lachlan. That was why her words had registered as true. She did need a job. As of right now, she might be in the builgean for a very long time. And as for her parents, they were gone, or as good as in her current situation. As for coming from the mountain, she did drop into the builgean from one.
They reached the kitchen, and a stout woman with graying brown curls wiped her hands on a cloth of questionable cleanliness before greeting them. “What ’ave ye got there, William?”
“Mistress Abernathy, this is Avery…”
“Campbell,” Avery filled in.
“Mistress Campbell is needin’ work. Lachlan asked me to bring her to ye. Says he’d consider it a personal favor.”
Mistress Abernathy snorted in derision. “This scrawny thing? I have work, but I’m not sure she can do it!”
Avery was nowhere near scrawny. Her figure had always been more curvy than slender, and she was tall, taller than Mistress Abernathy.
“I’m stronger than I look,” Avery said. If she were honest with herself, she probably wasn’t 1745 strong. These people had never known the pleasures of a cell phone or a remote control. Even though she worked out regularly and carried up cases of beer at the bar, she was exhausted, and her feet still hurt from yesterday’s hike. No need to oversell her abilities. “I can cook.”
That raised Mistress Abernathy’s eyebrows. “It’s one thing to cook for a family, another to cook for a castle, ye ken?”
“I’ve cooked for large groups before.”
“Ye make good bread?”
“The best. And I’ve served before as well.”
Mistress Abernathy made a sound deep in her throat and sized her up, wiping her meaty hands on her smock. “Aye. Tell Lachlan I’ll give her a try.”
William bowed his head and left the kitchen.
“If ye work out, ye’ll have a room in the castle and regular pay. It ain’t much but enough to keep yer belly full and clothes on yer back.”
Mistress Abernathy motioned for her to follow her into the kitchen and threw an apron at her. She was quick to tie it on and fall into line with a team of women. One of them pushed dough in her direction and she began to knead it on the floured surface.
Avery released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. In the center of a storm of fear and uncertainty, she had a job, she had a bed, and she had a distraction. Now all she needed was a plan.
It had been seven days since Avery had taken the job working in Castle Dunchridhe’s kitchen, and all she had to show for it were sore fingers from kneading dough, a sore back from a mattress that wasn’t fit for a dog, and a collection of burns from cooking over an actual fire rather than a gas stovetop. However, she had won over the kitchen staff by introducing them to her special grilled cheese sandwiches, which she made two different ways: plain and with raspberry jam. It seemed the affections of most women, from any time or place, could be bought with the right combination of carbs and dairy. They couldn’t get enough.
Avery was frying a batch for her new friends in a three-legged skillet over the fire when she felt Mistress Abernathy staring at her.
“Do ye mind me askin’ where exactly ye come from?” She gave Avery a strange look. “Avery is such a strange name. I canna say I’ve ever heard of a Campbell named Avery before.”
“I’m from the mountains.” She hoped the intentionally vague explanation would be enough. She flipped the sandwich in the pan.
“Where in the mountains?”
Avery looked at her but didn’t answer.
“Yer skin is quite fair for growing up in the wilds. And ye know strange things about cookin’ and such. Are ye a fairy, Avery?”
“Fairy?” She laughed. “No.” When Mistress Abernathy didn’t seem convinced, she changed the subject. “Is it true, the stories they tell about Lachlan slaying Xavier?”
Mistress Abernathy shot her a curious sideways glance and laughed. “Who’s Xavier?” The old woman walked away, shaking her head and mumbling something about young women out of their minds.
“Shhh. Stupid girl,” said a voice from behind her.