Page 12 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

This earned Bryce’s ire, and not because he felt guilty. “Ye think me cruel because I did what you asked of me? Provided her a home? Clothing, shoes, food? Saw to her comforts? Mayhap you thought to make a love match. I’m sorry to disappoint you in your matchmaking. I didna ken you had turned into an old woman.”

“I thought you might grow to be friends with her at least.”

“That was not what you ordered me to do. You said it was my duty to wed her. Ye said nothing of being friends.”

Lachlan frowned but gave up when Cameron and their women joined them at the table.

Bryce wouldn’t be made to feel guilty. Especially when he knew Dorie was better off without him in her life. He was miserable; there was no sense making her miserable as well.

Chapter Five

Dorie muttered a few curses at her latest attempt to make bread. It hadn’t turned into anything remotely close to bread. Again.

In fact, nothing she’d attempted so far had been edible. The cheese was gone and she’d eaten the vegetables raw. She would never complain, though. She’d eaten much worse when she lived with the McCurdys, but her stomach growled at the thought of the meals they must enjoy up at Dunardry Castle.

Even Rascal had taken to begging up at the castle for his meals rather than rely on her. Which was why she hadn’t been given proper notice that visitors were on their way until they’d reached the door and knocked.

A few more curses whispered across Dorie’s lips as she answered the door with a smile. Once inside, Mari and Kenna looked around.

“What are ye baking?” Kenna asked as she stepped closer to the mess on the table. Her brows pulled together while Mari frowned. She set down a basket filled with bannocks and preserves, and Dorie’s mouth watered.

Dorie let out a sigh and shrugged. Not just because she didn’t speak, but because even if she did, she wouldn’t have a name for whatever the mess should be called. Except failure.

Tears filled her eyes and she sat on one of the chairs with her head in her hands. She hadn’t had high hopes for her life when she came here, but she’d hoped not to be hungry for the rest of her days.

“Oh, dear,” Mari said, coming to pat her shoulder in a comforting way. “It’s no shame if you don’t know how to cook or bake. I didn’t know either when I arrived. I was a duchess, after all, and duchesses are forbidden to enter the kitchens. But I’ve learned a bit since I’ve been here helping the women prepare the meals.”

“Aye.” Kenna held up the basket. “We brought something to share for now. And mayhap you’d like to join us in the morning? We’ll be making tarts and stew.”

Dorie wiped her tears and nodded enthusiastically. She remembered the rare occasions when there were tarts at Baehaven, back when her mother was alive.

But it wasn’t just the tarts that caused excitement to settle in her stomach. Being invited to the kitchens meant she’d be with people. She was bored to misery in her little cottage. Even though the door didn’t lock her in, she’d felt like a prisoner just the same.

Rascal was growing like a weed and offered companionship, but he didn’t offer much in the way of robust conversation.

She wiped her tears away when there was another knock at the door. She opened it so wee Gordon could enter with an armload of wood to put with the growing pile in the corner. He asked if she was well. She nodded as she had each day he’d come. He bowed to them and turned to take his leave.

“Has Bryce sent you to check on Dorie?” Kenna asked the lad as Dorie poured them all a bit of ale to go with their light meal.

“Aye. I come every day to bring wood and see that she is well.”

“Yes, I see that.” Mari frowned as the boy took his leave.

“Bryce should be ashamed of himself for leaving you here and not checking on you himself.”

Dorie appreciated Kenna’s ire on her behalf, but she didn’t begrudge Bryce for not coming to visit. He’d hired the boy to check in. Bryce didn’t want her. That was clear. But he’d provided for her. That was all that could be expected. And she was grateful. It was more than she’d had in recent years.

“Fear not,” Mari said with a smile. “We’ll see that you’re cared for.” The woman looked Dorie over and frowned yet again. “Is this the dress he had made for you?”

Dorie nodded and crossed her arms. The woman who’d come to measure her complained about the extra fabric needed because of Dorie’s height and skimped on the length and other places that made Dorie uncomfortable.

“This looks like the work of Sarah. The stingy old crow. She probably charged him for a full gown and had enough material left over to make a second.”

Dorie tugged at the garment in an effort to cover more of herself and the seam ripped.

Kenna let out a breath. “Tomorrow when we’re done in the kitchen, we’ll go to the solar and start sewing you something decent to wear. Do you sew?”

Dorie nodded, though her skills were more functional than fashionable. She knew how to darn a sock and mend her ill-fitted gowns, but she wasn’t able to embroider or create any embellishments. Life at Baehaven had lacked embellishment of any kind.