Iliana rolled her eyes as the man continued to stammer at her, then patted his arm soothingly. “You need only tell me if you can supply that many plaids. If you cannot,” she added with a pleasant smile, “I shall, of course, purchase them elsewhere.”

His expression now shifted from dismayed to offended. Drawing himself up to his full height, which was still a good inch shorter than Iliana, he asked, “Would I be correct in thinkin’ ye be buyin’ the plaids fer the people here?”

“Aye, ye would. ’Tis well past time each had a new plaid, do you not think?”

“Nay, I do not. His lairdship gives them one every year in January. ’Tis only June now. These plaids will last another seven months.”

“They’ll last a lot longer with two of them available,” Iliana responded at once. “’Sides, with only one, they have nothing to wear while cleaning it.”

“Ye don’t clean a plaid, me lady!” He seemed truly taken aback at the suggestion. “They canna keep ye warm should ye clean them.”

Iliana rolled her eyes at that. “Can you or can you not supply me the plaids?”

He frowned over that, worry plucking at his brows. “My lady, ’tis not that I can not supply them, but his laird—”

“Has given me a free hand in tending to the keep and its people,” Iliana finished. The lie had served her well so far; there seemed little reason to give it up. “As I said, if you cannot supply them, I will purchase them elsewhere.” It was an unfair threat to use. She knew he would not wish his people wearing any but their own plaids.

“He can supply the plaids.”

Iliana glanced toward the door of the hut they stood in front of, eyebrows rising slightly as a tall, robust redhead moved toward them. Mr. Cummins’s wife was a good six inches taller than her husband. She also appeared to have a forceful personality. “Tell ’er ye can, Cailie.”

The man grimaced at the order but nodded. “Aye. It would slow me down on filling another order, but aye, I could sell ye the plaids.”

“When might I expect them?”

“Ere the nooning meal,” his wife answered for him.

“Ere the nooning! Eda, ’tis almost noon now,” Cailean protested heatedly.

“Ye must have that many made, Cailean. All ye needs must do is count them out.”

“Aye, but—”

“That would be perfect,” Iliana enthused. “I can make the announcement at table. I will expect you at noon, then.”

“Aye, me lady,” he answered resignedly, then turned to glare at his wife.