She reached the end of the hall, stopping long enough to contemplate each direction.
Emilie was astonished that she hadn’t yet run into anyone who could point her in the right direction. But every place that she had walked down had been entirely empty.
She paused for a moment, listening intently. Up until now, every time she had done this, only silence had greeted her. But now, there was a soft tinkling to her left.
The sound of pots and pans clanging as they were being used.
“The kitchen,” Emilie breathed, immediately turning to her left.
Her pace picked up as she followed the sound, much more enthusiastic now that she had a direction she knew would lead her to where she was headed.
She had no intention of trying the bannocks or of convincing the cook to try to make her some. But she did at least want to grab a snack.
The twins had eaten most of the strawberries.
At the thought of the berries, her stomach gave a hungry growl. The berries had long since been packed up.
When she and Archer had started on their walk, Emilie had tried to stall by telling him she needed to clean up their picnic supplies and return the book to the library. Archer had quickly been able to find one of the maids to take care of it.
“It’s all right,” she murmured to herself. “I’ll be eatin’ in nay time at all.”
She turned a final corner, and there it was. The threshold in front of her had no door, and beyond the open space was the kitchen.
Emilie stepped into it, gratitude and hunger coursing through her.
The cook was at the stove, eagerly stirring a pot of stew. The smell of it was enough to make her mouth water.
“Me Lady?” The cook asked the moment their eyes landed on her. “Is there somethin’ I can help ye with?”
“I’m just lookin’ for a bit of bread,” Emilie explained in a friendly voice. “Just a little somethin’ to tide me over until that delicious supper ye’re cookin’ is ready.”
“Bread’s over there, on that counter by Lady Paisly,” the cook nodded her head toward the far corner of the kitchen.
Emilie whirled, finding another woman standing exactly where the cook had indicated. Sure enough, there was a fresh loaf of bread sitting on the wooden counter. And the woman standing beside it was heavily pregnant, ripping hunks from the bread and chewing them with gusto.
Emilie approached the counter, but the woman seemed not to notice her at all until she was mere inches away. When the woman’s eyes flicked up, Emilie realized that she recognized her.
“Oh,” Emilie said, surprise flickering through her. “Ye were at me weddin’.”
The woman stared at her, clearly shocked to find Emilie standing there before her. She swallowed the piece of bread she’d been chewing on quickly, though, and allowed a friendly smile to tug up the corner of her lips.
“I was,” the woman chimed. Her voice was lovely and deep. The friendly expression on her face made Emilie immediately warm to her.
“I’m Paisly. Me husband is Marcus, Laird McGregor’s man-at-arms. Ye’ve probably seen him around.”
Emilie nodded, immediately recalling exactly who Paisly was talking about.
“Do ye mind if I get a bit of bread?” she asked, pointing to the loaf directly behind her.
“Of course!” Paisly said quickly, moving her pregnant self out of the way as fast as she could. “Me apologies. The bairn in me belly demands bread every hour on the hour.”
She patted it affectionately, taking another bite from the hunk of bread gripped in her hand.
Emilie laughed as she moved past her, ripping off a piece for herself.
The bread was still warm, and she sighed as she bit into it. Turning her gaze back to Paisly.
“So,” Paisly asked around a mouthful of food, “are ye enjoyin’ yer time here so far? How are ye gettin’ settled in? And how have things been since the weddin’?”