Highland Island (Book 6)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Elbows deep in the sticky dough, the mixture not yet fully manageable, but the task had been hers for a very long time by now. She had worked her way up in the kitchens from a young age. But Cook would give her nothing else now. Especially after Gilbarta's fiasco, and now two days past Gilbarta ruining everything again, she was very likely to be making bread for the rest of her life in this clan.

Wiping at her drenched forehead with a flour and dough coated elbow, leaving a sticky smear upon the side of her face. The heat could be suffocating in the height of summer, but even now just as the very openings of the season began, the heat was creeping up. The fires furthered the suffering of those in the kitchens. Cook was unseasonably angry, the loss of her ingredients in the forest had made Isla very much the enemy. As if it was her fault a lumping great forest man had dropped her basket, or the Cook had given the bread making to Gilbarta, when everyone knew the consequences at that decision would never end well.

The entire clan had let Gilbarta know they opinion on her skills, and in her usual way, she had thrown their accusations back at them and was now downgraded to water carrier for the remainder of the month, at least.

The sound of chatting ladies, clattering pots and the thuds of knifes on chopping boards. The arguments and the gossip flowing, the fires spitting and the large cooking pots simmering away. The liveliness of this room, the warmth, it was suffocating. The warm air, and cool breeze of the forest called to her. The mismatched eyes bore into her soul every time she closed her eyes. The confounding man had burrowed into her very being and she could not forget him. No matter how angry she became at the memory, a fire began to burn within and she had not the faintest reason as to why.

Pounding at the dough once more, she put her full strength into it. Her frustration being thrown again and again into the solid oak of the table beneath her dough. Isla's thick brown hair in a stringent braid, pulling the skin of her face taunt. But even that would not do as it was told. Lose strands escaped and clung to the damp skin of her cheeks, neck and forehead. Making her itch to swipe at her face once more. The irritation was at her own thinking rather than at the stranger who had so abruptly come into her life. And left it just as swiftly.

Forcefully shoved forward, the pain a sharp shock to the hip. Hissing in a breath, but with hands glued to the bread dough, Isla snapped her head around. Glaring at Gilbarta as she sashayed past with only half full buckets of water. Slamming them down at Bonnie's table before snatching up two empty ones and making her way back past Isla.

"This is your fault. If you have only found the mushrooms." The whisper held all the accusation of a shout.

"My fault?" Isla hissed back, "I was not the one who both burnt and undercooked the bread for evening meal." Practically spitting the words at her friend as she walked past. They shared a glare at each other, before each went back to their own tasks. Gilbarta could hold a grudge and Isla was not in the mood this time. She had wanted to tell both Gilbarta and Moira what had happened in the forest. But Gilbarta had a massive chip on her shoulder and Moira had had to help her mother with the young bairn's more than usual over the last week.

Isla was bursting with the tale and yet there were very few she actually trusted with the tale. God forbid if Bonnie ever caught wind of the story, then she would be ruined to all who listened to her gossip. It was as if Bonnie lived to ruin the lives of others, and yet the vindictive woman was the one who acted as she gossiped about. Not that Bonnie or her Mother would allow anyone to say such things of her, as she was a first cousin of the Laird. But everyone knew, even if it was a double standard that she had not been disgraced yet at least two women that Isla knew of. Those women's lives were now the very bottom of society. Isla could not let Bonnie near anything to do with the tale she had to tell.