Iliana forced herself to count to ten, an effort to control her temper as she considered how to deal with the man. She had known as she had suffered through the stale bread and watery stews that he had served for meals over the last three days that she would have to do something about him eventually but had put him on her list of priorities between cleaning the great hall and whitewashing it. Well, other than a few of the wall hangings, which she could clean on nights in front of the fire, the great hall was done. The floors had been scrubbed clean, and the trestle table and benches were pristine. She had even seen to scrubbing away the smoke and soot on the wall around the fireplace. Now ’twas well past time she dealt with the cook.

He was short, with hair as black as soot, and a body that resembled a barrel. The man was round everywhere. Even his cheeks were chubby and florid. Iliana could only think that he either ate better fare than he served everyone else, or his palate was less discerning. He certainly lacked in respect and courtesy when it came to his new English lady. He had been uncooperative as the devil since she had entered the kitchen to speak with him. First, he would not even do her the courtesy of stopping what he was doing to hear her out, and second, he kept spitting on the floor by her skirts as she spoke. ’Twas a most disgusting habit. Especially in the kitchen while preparing food, she decided, staring down at the foamy gobs on the floor.

“Fine,” she said at last. “If ’tis too much trouble for you to discuss your duties, I shall find someone else to perform them.” She had a bare glimpse of the dismay on his face, then turned to leave the room.

“’Ere now! Ye canna be doin’ that! I’ve done this job all me life, and me father afore me. Ye canna be replacin’ me!”

She had his attention at last, it seemed. Pausing at the door, Iliana turned back, feigned surprise on her face. “Certainly I can, Mr. Dunbar.”

“Cummin,” he muttered resentfully. “Elgin Cummin. Me mother was a Dunbar. Me da married her after he came here to cook.”

“Well, Elgin Cummin, yer laird has given me a free hand in putting my new home to rights.” Not exactly true, but this was no time to quibble, she thought, her gaze moving grimly over the others in the room now as well, in warning. The kitchen help and a handful of servants, including Giorsal, all stilled under her look. “That means I may release or retain whomever I wish.” Her gaze slid back to the cook. “Including you. I had not intended to do so when I entered, but if you will not even discuss the matter with me, I see no alternative but to replace you.”