megrims.”
“Megrims!” Caroline dropped the bowls into the bucket with a clatter and turned to face him, fists on hips. “I’ll have you know that I suffer from no megrims, sir! ’Tis your lack of consideration that pricks my temper!”
“Oh, I see. It’s too much to expect you to carry a cold meal out to us in the middle of the day, is it? In that case, we’ll return to the house for something hot.”
They locked eyes. Annoyed, Caroline had to admit that he had her there. Carrying a meal out to them would be a deal of trouble, but the alternative would involve even more work. She had longed for a home and family with an intensity that had been almost physical for at least the last four years. Now that she had what she had wished for, she should be thankful, not cross. But Matt’s attitude made her want to heave something at his head.
“No, I’ll bring the meal out,” she said through her teeth.
Matt shrugged. “As you will.”
Then without so much as a victorious glimmer he followed Robert and Thomas out the door, leaving Caroline alone to sizzle. For a moment after they left she was tempted to kick the table leg to vent her spleen, but the realization that the only likely outcome of that would be to hurt her toes dissuaded her. Really, the Mathieson males were aggravating, and Matt was the most aggravating one of all!
With no one to be affected by her anger, nursing it was useless. So Caroline gave it up, scraped the pot clean to find enough porridge for herself, poured Millicent a saucer of milk, and sat down at the cleared table to make her own meal. Taking care of a houseful of men and boys was going to be a daunting task. It was clear that it would require working her fingers to the bone from dawn to midnight, day after day, with scant reward. But still—’twas good to have a home. Not since her mother died had she known such stability, and the lack made it all the sweeter now that she had found it again. To know with certainty that therewould be food on the table for each meal, that she would lay her head in the same spot for countless nights to come, that there was no one or nothing to menace her, brought with it a relief so profound that she could only savor it. Accustoming herself to the vagaries of so many males might require some effort, but it could be done. She would just have to give both herself and her graceless new relatives time to adjust to the situation. The trick would be to hang on to her temper in the meantime.
Several hours later she was wrapping fresh-baked bread in a cloth and placing it in the bucket atop the sliced remains of an end of cured ham she had found in the smokehouse. Four grown men would eat a considerable amount, and she had already had an unhappy experience with this group’s appetite. Frowning thoughtfully, she wrapped another loaf of bread and put it into the bucket, then added several apples and a good supply of green onions. To feed them adequately, it was plain that she would be forever cooking. Caroline rolled her eyes as she looked at the two loaves of bread that remained on the table. Four loaves baked that morning, and already, with one meal, half were gone. Well, she would just have to set more dough to rise when she returned.
Hefting the bucket in one hand and the jug of ale in the other, Caroline started out the door. The air was cold, the sunlight bright as it had been the previous day. Ordinarily she would have put on a bonnet to protect her skin from the sun, but she did not feel like going back upstairs to unearth one from her trunks. She had finally found time to brush her hair, and shewore it as she usually did, in a simple knob at her nape. Her dress already bore a number of spots from the scrubbing she had done, but at least it was now fastened correctly. It was the plainest gown she possessed, but it was still far too fine for such menial labor as she had been doing. The fitted bodice of heavy pink cotton was edged with swaths of white
“Megrims!” Caroline dropped the bowls into the bucket with a clatter and turned to face him, fists on hips. “I’ll have you know that I suffer from no megrims, sir! ’Tis your lack of consideration that pricks my temper!”
“Oh, I see. It’s too much to expect you to carry a cold meal out to us in the middle of the day, is it? In that case, we’ll return to the house for something hot.”
They locked eyes. Annoyed, Caroline had to admit that he had her there. Carrying a meal out to them would be a deal of trouble, but the alternative would involve even more work. She had longed for a home and family with an intensity that had been almost physical for at least the last four years. Now that she had what she had wished for, she should be thankful, not cross. But Matt’s attitude made her want to heave something at his head.
“No, I’ll bring the meal out,” she said through her teeth.
Matt shrugged. “As you will.”
Then without so much as a victorious glimmer he followed Robert and Thomas out the door, leaving Caroline alone to sizzle. For a moment after they left she was tempted to kick the table leg to vent her spleen, but the realization that the only likely outcome of that would be to hurt her toes dissuaded her. Really, the Mathieson males were aggravating, and Matt was the most aggravating one of all!
With no one to be affected by her anger, nursing it was useless. So Caroline gave it up, scraped the pot clean to find enough porridge for herself, poured Millicent a saucer of milk, and sat down at the cleared table to make her own meal. Taking care of a houseful of men and boys was going to be a daunting task. It was clear that it would require working her fingers to the bone from dawn to midnight, day after day, with scant reward. But still—’twas good to have a home. Not since her mother died had she known such stability, and the lack made it all the sweeter now that she had found it again. To know with certainty that therewould be food on the table for each meal, that she would lay her head in the same spot for countless nights to come, that there was no one or nothing to menace her, brought with it a relief so profound that she could only savor it. Accustoming herself to the vagaries of so many males might require some effort, but it could be done. She would just have to give both herself and her graceless new relatives time to adjust to the situation. The trick would be to hang on to her temper in the meantime.
Several hours later she was wrapping fresh-baked bread in a cloth and placing it in the bucket atop the sliced remains of an end of cured ham she had found in the smokehouse. Four grown men would eat a considerable amount, and she had already had an unhappy experience with this group’s appetite. Frowning thoughtfully, she wrapped another loaf of bread and put it into the bucket, then added several apples and a good supply of green onions. To feed them adequately, it was plain that she would be forever cooking. Caroline rolled her eyes as she looked at the two loaves of bread that remained on the table. Four loaves baked that morning, and already, with one meal, half were gone. Well, she would just have to set more dough to rise when she returned.
Hefting the bucket in one hand and the jug of ale in the other, Caroline started out the door. The air was cold, the sunlight bright as it had been the previous day. Ordinarily she would have put on a bonnet to protect her skin from the sun, but she did not feel like going back upstairs to unearth one from her trunks. She had finally found time to brush her hair, and shewore it as she usually did, in a simple knob at her nape. Her dress already bore a number of spots from the scrubbing she had done, but at least it was now fastened correctly. It was the plainest gown she possessed, but it was still far too fine for such menial labor as she had been doing. The fitted bodice of heavy pink cotton was edged with swaths of white
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