you," she grumbled. "Unless…" She snapped her fingers. "It's about that man you saw in the garden, isn't it? Who is he?"
Miriam took great pleasure in saying, "He's a pig farmer who tried to seduce me."
Alexis tilted back her head and gave Miriam a stern glance that reeked of motherly disapproval. The expression also made her look exactly like the state portrait of her father. "You let a swineherd kiss you?"
Miriam thought of the dark stranger. Conflicting images tweaked her mind. One moment he soothed and comforted with gentle words and coaxing hands, the next he seduced and bullied with bold threats and vulgar ultimatums. She knew that her queries about the earl had caused the change in the Border Lord's mood and methods, she just didn't know why. Unless they were in collusion. But his parting kiss had nothing to do with territorial disputes and everything to do with cheap seduction.
"You must tell me," said Alexis.
Confused, Miriam whispered, "Later, Lexie," and walked into the lesser hall.
To Miriam's delight, the elusive housekeeper stood at a trestle table, her arm pumping as she sawed a loaf of brown bread into thick slices. She wore a sturdy woolen frock beneath a crisp, linen apron, shiny from starch and wear.
"Good morning, Mrs. Elliott," said Miriam, taking a seat at the long bench by the table.
A smile puffed out the older woman's cheeks. Blinking, she said, "You remembered my name, Lady Miriam. Thank you."
People were surprised by the small gesture that came effortlessly to Miriam. "You're welcome. Is that bread I smell?"
Mrs. Elliott sent a maid to the pantry for plates. "Aye. What will you have to drink, my lady?"
"Honeyed milk, if you please."
Alexis slid onto the bench and said, "I'll have watered wine." When the housekeeper offered her a slice of bread, Alexis shook her head, a pained look on her face. "Thank you, no. I couldn't eat a thing so early in the morning."
Miriam slathered the bread with butter and candied pippins. Although she intended to compliment the food regardless of the quality, the rich flavors made her sigh with pleasure.
Alexis, usually grumpy before noon, groaned, "Oh, please."
Mrs. Elliott said, "Can I get you anything else, my lady?"
Miriam hoped to glean information on the mysterious pig farmer who called himself the Border Lord, if, that is, Mrs. Elliott would cooperate. To that end Miriam made a great show of considering her answer. "A thick slice of fresh roasted pork would be grand."
The housekeeper's smile faded and her hands worried a stack of crumbs. She seemed wary, or was she just uncomfortable with visitors? The earl said he didn't often entertain. "I'm sorry, my lady. We haven't any fresh pork today," she said, "but there's salted ham and oat pudding."
Silently rejoicing, Miriam said, "The ham will be fine." When the meat was served, she exclaimed, "What a beautiful ham. You must have a fine pig farmer in Kildalton. Send him my compliments."
Mrs. Elliott's brows made a chevron in the center on her forehead. "It comes from the butcher. I'll tell him."
Honey ran over the edge of the bread. Miriam caught it with her finger. "The butcher raises his own stock. How enterprising." She popped her finger into her mouth.
"He don't raise it, I'm sure," said Mrs. Elliott. "I'll fetch you more milk."
Sensing her chance was slipping away, Miriam said, "Alexis, do you remember that eccentric French count who raised pigs in his keeping room?"
Alexis paused, the tankard an inch from her lips. She rolled her gaze to Miriam, searched her face, then took a drink. "I believe you said his castle smelled wretched."
Turning slightly, Miriam winked. To Mrs. Elliott, she said, "Imagine that, will you? Squealing piglets underfoot."
The woman's wariness turned to stiff-necked disapproval, deepening the dimple in her chin into a cavern. "You won't find swine in this castle."
"Not the cloven-hoofed variety," Alexis murmured into the tankard.
Ignoring her, Miriam said, "Of
Miriam took great pleasure in saying, "He's a pig farmer who tried to seduce me."
Alexis tilted back her head and gave Miriam a stern glance that reeked of motherly disapproval. The expression also made her look exactly like the state portrait of her father. "You let a swineherd kiss you?"
Miriam thought of the dark stranger. Conflicting images tweaked her mind. One moment he soothed and comforted with gentle words and coaxing hands, the next he seduced and bullied with bold threats and vulgar ultimatums. She knew that her queries about the earl had caused the change in the Border Lord's mood and methods, she just didn't know why. Unless they were in collusion. But his parting kiss had nothing to do with territorial disputes and everything to do with cheap seduction.
"You must tell me," said Alexis.
Confused, Miriam whispered, "Later, Lexie," and walked into the lesser hall.
To Miriam's delight, the elusive housekeeper stood at a trestle table, her arm pumping as she sawed a loaf of brown bread into thick slices. She wore a sturdy woolen frock beneath a crisp, linen apron, shiny from starch and wear.
"Good morning, Mrs. Elliott," said Miriam, taking a seat at the long bench by the table.
A smile puffed out the older woman's cheeks. Blinking, she said, "You remembered my name, Lady Miriam. Thank you."
People were surprised by the small gesture that came effortlessly to Miriam. "You're welcome. Is that bread I smell?"
Mrs. Elliott sent a maid to the pantry for plates. "Aye. What will you have to drink, my lady?"
"Honeyed milk, if you please."
Alexis slid onto the bench and said, "I'll have watered wine." When the housekeeper offered her a slice of bread, Alexis shook her head, a pained look on her face. "Thank you, no. I couldn't eat a thing so early in the morning."
Miriam slathered the bread with butter and candied pippins. Although she intended to compliment the food regardless of the quality, the rich flavors made her sigh with pleasure.
Alexis, usually grumpy before noon, groaned, "Oh, please."
Mrs. Elliott said, "Can I get you anything else, my lady?"
Miriam hoped to glean information on the mysterious pig farmer who called himself the Border Lord, if, that is, Mrs. Elliott would cooperate. To that end Miriam made a great show of considering her answer. "A thick slice of fresh roasted pork would be grand."
The housekeeper's smile faded and her hands worried a stack of crumbs. She seemed wary, or was she just uncomfortable with visitors? The earl said he didn't often entertain. "I'm sorry, my lady. We haven't any fresh pork today," she said, "but there's salted ham and oat pudding."
Silently rejoicing, Miriam said, "The ham will be fine." When the meat was served, she exclaimed, "What a beautiful ham. You must have a fine pig farmer in Kildalton. Send him my compliments."
Mrs. Elliott's brows made a chevron in the center on her forehead. "It comes from the butcher. I'll tell him."
Honey ran over the edge of the bread. Miriam caught it with her finger. "The butcher raises his own stock. How enterprising." She popped her finger into her mouth.
"He don't raise it, I'm sure," said Mrs. Elliott. "I'll fetch you more milk."
Sensing her chance was slipping away, Miriam said, "Alexis, do you remember that eccentric French count who raised pigs in his keeping room?"
Alexis paused, the tankard an inch from her lips. She rolled her gaze to Miriam, searched her face, then took a drink. "I believe you said his castle smelled wretched."
Turning slightly, Miriam winked. To Mrs. Elliott, she said, "Imagine that, will you? Squealing piglets underfoot."
The woman's wariness turned to stiff-necked disapproval, deepening the dimple in her chin into a cavern. "You won't find swine in this castle."
"Not the cloven-hoofed variety," Alexis murmured into the tankard.
Ignoring her, Miriam said, "Of
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