“Well, it is a new day, and a new chapter in both of our lives.” As Noah hadn’t set any rules pertaining to being awoken, Saoirse decided to try her luck. “Bianca, might ye be so kind as to gather the Laird’s favorite foods on a tray? I think I’d like to take it to him this mornin’. After all, the cook at Baxter Keep used to say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach… and I’ve tried everythin’ else.”
She laughed, but neither of the other two did. Instead, Bianca and Scott exchanged a heavy look. Saoirse could tell by Bianca’s obvious apprehension that the maid wasn’t entirely sure what to do.
“She’s the Lady of the Castle,” Scott said to Bianca, with a weary shrug.
Bianca huffed out a nervous breath. “Aye, that she is.” She looked to Saoirse. “I’ll nae be a moment, M’Lady.”
She vanished through the side door that Saoirse had been heading for, leaving Saoirse and Scott alone.
“This might nae be yer best idea. Ye ken that, aye?” Scott asked.
Saoirse smiled. “I dae, but it’s the only idea that I have.” She paused. “Is he particularly grumpy of a mornin’?”
“An ogre.” Scott smirked.
“Was I the cause of his troubles last night, or… did somethin’ occur after he left me?” Saoirse needed to know, and Scott seemed to have the answers.
Before he could reply, however, Bianca reappeared with a laden tray. Upon it were thick slices of yellowish cheese, an array of smoked meats, earthy oatcakes, a soft bread roll that smelled delicious, a square of butter, and an assortment of fresh berries and fruits that made Saoirse’s mouth water. Plums, apples, pears, blackberries, wild strawberries, and sour, green gooseberries.
“It looks like ye brought a feast for two!” Saoirse gasped, wondering how she was going to carry so much. There was a pewter pitcher, too.
Scott barked a laugh. “Was that nae the point?”
“Well, I—” Saoirse trailed off, feeling embarrassed.
Bianca intervened. “Can ye carry it all?”
“If ye hear clatterin’ in the hallways, ye’ll ken I failed, but I’ll do my best.” Saoirse held out her arms, her elbows buckling slightly as she took the heavy tray. A minute later, she adjusted to the weight. It wasn’t so bad, but trying to grip the pitcher with only two fingers was going to hurt.
Satisfied that she’d manage, Saoirse put on a smile and asked, “Now, which chambers are the Laird’s, and how on Earth do I get there?”
“Three doors from yers, on the left,” Scott answered as he snatched an apple. Bianca took a swipe at Scott’s hand, but he was too fast and let out a chuckle before biting into the fruit.
Saoirse’s heart leaped. “That close?”
“Aye,” Scott said, with a mouth full of apple. “Good luck.”
Saoirse knew she would need it, as she carefully began her journey with the tray. Every step she took without spilling anything made her smile, until she couldn’t understand why her nerves were so rattled. She was just a wife going to wake up her husband.
A slow twenty minutes later, she arrived in the hallway that belonged to her chamber and his. The stairs had been a nuisance, but still nothing had spilled or tipped. All she had to do was make it another twenty steps or so, and she’d be at his door.
Ever so delicately, she took a step, then another. With her heart racing in her chest, she tried to calm herself. It dawned on her that she was more nervous about seeing Noah than actually dropping the tray. After all, it was their first morning together and after their last heated encounter, she hoped to rekindle some of those embers. At the very least, she wanted a kind word to bolster her hope.
Stopping at the third door down from her room, on the left, she shifted the tray to one hand and knocked. Eagerly waiting for an answer, Saoirse’s arms began to wobble under the strain.
“Och, Saoirse,” Noah’s deep, husky voice murmured beyond the door.
Saoirse’s heart skipped at the sound. Scott had clearly been wrong. Hope filled her as she reached for the handle and opened the door.
The chamber was dark, with just a sliver of light pouring through a crack in the curtains. Letting her eyes adjust, she spied the large bed and Noah upon it, twisted in a pile of blankets.
A smile drifted over her lips as she tiptoed into the room and quietly closed the door behind her.
“Aye, that’s it,” Noah mumbled.
Saoirse realized then that he was still fast asleep. Still, she was in the room now, and she had no intention of changing her plans. So, padding toward a small table and chairs by the fireplace, she set the tray down. No sooner had she done that, than a rustling of sheets caught her ear.
“Please, daenae stop,” Noah moaned. Curious, Saoirse glanced over her shoulder and watched his shadowy figure writhe. “Ye daenae ken what ye dae to me, woman.”