She quickly washed her body, then soaped her hair and rinsed it with the bucket of clean warm water left at the side of the tub.
By the time Nellie entered the room again, Skye was sitting on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, running her fingers through her long hair to dry it faster.
“I found some clothes that just might work if ye wish to dress for dinner. Laird MacArthur asked me to tell ye that ye are welcome to dine with him in the Great Hall, or if ye are feeling too tired, I am to bring a tray to yer room.”
A quiet evening, here in the comfort of her room, enticed her, but she wanted to see the layout of the keep. Was there a way out if she decided to leave without telling anyone? She wondered what Arran and his advisors wanted to do with her.
She told herself these were very good reasons for accepting his invitation to dine with him—and theywerevery good reasons. But if she was honest with herself, she knew she just wanted to see him again.
CHAPTER SIX
Skye carefully put on the garments that Nellie had laid out for her. The linen shift looked almost new and fit her well. The white fabric fell almost to her ankles, and the sleeves were just the right length.
She pulled the woolen dress over her head. The color was a deep russet brown, and the neckline was embellished with tiny embroidered flowers of different colors. The dress fit her almost perfectly but fell a little short in length.
But Skye didn’t care. The dress was perfect in her eyes.
I must remember to thank whoever lent it to me.
She opened the top drawer of the dresser and rifled through the clothes, and found a comb. She almost wept with relief. Running her fingers through her nearly dry hair was inadequate. Her long, wavy curls needed to be combed in order to be styled into anything but a tangled bird’s nest.
When she finished, her hair was arranged into two thick braids that she joined with a twist at the base of her neck, with a few curly tendrils framing her face. She tucked in a few stray locks, and then she was ready.
Skye entered the Great Hall to find almost everyone seated. Arran was sitting at the head of the table, and two of his men sat with him. There were two empty chairs to his left, and he motioned for her to sit in the chair next to him.
As Skye crossed the expanse of the hall, his eyes never left her. Her cheeks reddened, and she wasn’t able to hold his gaze.
Get ahold of yerself!
“Ye look lovely, Skye. Our narrow escape seems to agree with ye,” he jested.
Skye tried not to smile, but his jovial mood lightened her burden and worries if only for a moment.
She scanned the room. The Great Hall was modest in size, but like her room, it was warmer than the Great Hall of Castle MacKeith. A large, embroidered tapestry that depicted the MacArthur crest and another that told the story of an epic battle hung from the stone walls. A fire burned brightly in the hearth.
There were only two ways out of the Great Hall, she noted—the door she entered through and another that led to the kitchen, she presumed.
“We are waiting for me aunt Elsie. When she gets here, the food will be brought out.”
Arran had assumed she was looking toward the kitchen because she was hungry. And shewashungry, but she wanted to memorize all possible escape routes.
The door to the kitchen creaked open, and a hunched-over, frail woman slowly made her way into the hall, each step slow and deliberate.
Arran sighed. “Aunt Elsie got lost on her way down. Looks like she ended up in the kitchens again.”
The ancient woman’s thin frame leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden cane, and her dress hung small body. Wisps of white hair escaped from beneath her kerchief and framed a face etched with deep wrinkles.
As Elsie moved forward, Skye heard her labored breathing, but her eyes sparkled with fierce determination. Each step seemed to take an eternity, and everyone in the room watched her make her way to the table. She was almost to the empty chair beside Skye when her cane suddenly caught on a crevice in the floor. She stumbled.
Gasps rang out in the Great Hall, and Arran jumped to his feet to assist her.
Elsie raised her cane as if to whack him, and with a voice that was surprisingly strong, she said, “Leave me be.” She waved a bony hand. “I dinnae need yer help.”
Arran backed away and instead pulled out her chair for her. Once safely in her chair, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Elsie looked at Skye and smiled. Her eyes were blue and bright, and surprisingly, the matron had retained her teeth. Skye returned Elsie’s smile with one of her own.
“Yer wife looks beautiful this eve, Nephew,” Elsie remarked.
