Gifted

Hearth

The timber-framed home in front of them might once have been considered a peasant cottage but it was obvious that the owner had gone up in the world since it was first built. Stone had replaced wattle and daub, allowing for bigger windows and the multiple chimneys that jutted seemingly randomly from the home.

"Did I count four of them? Do they need that many fireplaces in this size cottage?" Magnus asked as they entered.

"Five, actually," Alina answered. "The ladies like to keep warm in the winter. They can afford it. Cousin Orla and her sisters do well for themselves running the wool mill for the village. The ladies take the fleece from our shepherds and turn them into all sorts of clothes. The garments sell nicely at Glasgu market. Some of their daughters help, too."

The main room was dark and dominated by a loom where a red-with-green Kerr plaid was partially complete. Alina tried to pull Magnus past the loom into the bedrooms on the other side but he led her to the kitchen hearth instead. He lit a taper for each of them then stoked the embers under the pot of rabbit stew Orla promised them.

He gestured to the crockery on nearby shelves and said, "If ye get these set up for us, I'll get a fire going in Ainsley's room."

She nodded and washed her hands before pouring cider into two tankards. Hearty slices of wholemeal bread were cut and put into the bowls, ready for when the stew finished warming. Feeling restless, she wandered over to the loom and compared the Kerr plaid to the Sinclair ones she still had draped around her. She held them out in front of her to compare. The tartans complemented each other: red with green accents for the Kerrs, green with red accents for the Sinclairs.

"They look good together," Magnus said softly from behind her.

He moved quietly for such a big man. She leaned back against him. Eventually, he led her back to the hearth where he ladled generous portions of hot stew into their bowls. They sat across from each other at the table and ate. Alina was disconcerted by the intensity with which he watched her.

He asked, "Ye don't like rabbit?"

"Heavy foods are unappetizing coming back up the other way," she said then realized that, even for her, talking about being sick at supper was undignified. "I notice ye're not eating yer carrots. Vegetables are good for ye."

He smiled and fed her a spoonful of carrot from his bowl. Her pulse skipped at the way he watched her mouth.

"Would ye like to trade? Rabbit for carrot?" Magnus asked. "Besides, I'm eating my turnips."

She offered him a chunk of rabbit with her hand and delighted in his wicked tongue.

"I think ye got it all," she said, breathless, as he continued to lick at her fingers.

"Mmm, I think next time we'll leave off with the spoon altogether," he said after finally releasing her fingers back to her.

"It's how my mother's people ate. Even the high-born ate everything without utensils," she said. "My grandmother did not approve but it always seemed to make my mother happy to teach me some of her culture's ways."

He fed her another spoonful then asked, "What was yer mother's name?"

"Samira," she answered. "She was brilliant. She probably could've been a great scholar had she stayed home with her people."

He asked, "What else did she teach ye?"

"Lots of things: languages, literature, medicine. She was a very learned woman," she said. "But the lessons most ingrained in me are her hygiene habits. She converted to marry my father but she maintained the hadiths related to cleanliness. She did these with me every day when I was young and now I can't stop even though no else around here does them, certainly not to the extent that I do."