“Doesn’t seem all that noble to me.” She didn’t have much of a choice, though, and she did smell repugnant.
The older woman’s gray eyes lit with an inner glow and she chuckled. With a gesture of her small hand, she motioned to the tub.
“Take your time. Supper’ll be ready within the hour. I’ll bring you a fresh change of clothing, so you don’t have to wear”—her words paused, and she seemed flummoxed when she eyed the tattered, dirty dress—“that thing again. Plus, I’m not trying to be rude, but you smell like something found at the bottom of a trash heap.”
Cheeks red, Sacha relented. Reaching to the back of the dress, she fumbled for the zipper. Each time her fingertips grazed the metal head, it seemed to swing out of reach. “Stupid dress.”
Margaret tisked. “Allow me.”
The sound of the zipper sliding was like a loud shout of freedom. The last remnant from today’s nightmare fell to the floor, and Sacha took a deep, cleansing breath. Peeling the suffocating bodice from her flesh reminded her of a caterpillar fighting its way out of a chrysalis.
“Oh, thank God.”
“Call if you need me.” With a well-practiced curtsy, she backed out of the room, head bowed, and closed the door.
Sacha walked to the barrier and lowered an old wooden bracket into place. It was quaint and ancient but seemed solid enough. She didn’t want to take any chances with these people. Margaret seemed okay, but the jury was still out on Finley Marin.
The sudsy water called to Sacha, promising a shroud of warmth.
She dipped the tip of a polished toe to check the temperature, and then eased into the decorative tub. A moan of pure bliss blew across her lips.
Eyes closed, she let the warmth hug her body.A little soak won’t hurt.It wasn’t like she could go anywhere, anyhow.
Chapter 6
Fin
Finstrolledthroughthedining area, whistling a melody from home.
Margaret had the table set for two, yet the little rat was nowhere to be seen.
The tune died on his lips.
Is she still in the tub?
He glanced toward the shut door of the bathroom. Envisioning her ripped, filthy gown sliding down her curves, he took a step toward the room before recovering himself.
“What in the bloody hell am I doing?”
The sound of clanging pots and pans reached his ears, and he stalked toward the kitchen.
Margaret hummed and stirred a saucepan on the stove. When she saw Fin, she smiled.
“Hello, boy.” Her gray eyes sparkled. “Don’t we have lovely company tonight?”
One of his shoulders lifted. “That remains to be seen.”
The wooden spoon she’d been using to stir the boiling water was suddenly two inches from his nose, steam curling into the space between and hot water dripping onto the floor.
“You listen to me, Finley Marin.” With every word, she punched the air with the utensil. “Behave yourself and try not to act like a sullen schoolboy who just had a paddling.” The spoon moved in the direction of the bathroom. “That girl is sweet. Who knows what kind of life her bastard father has put her through?”
“So, you believe her?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Who in their right mind would claim to be Vito’s relation if they weren’t?” She turned to the burner and dipped the wooden utensil into the pan.
“Hmm.” He scratched his head. “Do you think the spell will recognize her as a princess?”
“Only one way to find out.” Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she bent and pulled a tray of bread from the oven. “But you better be on your best behavior if you don’t want to blow our chances of getting back home.”
