Mrs. Dingwall’s sparse brows twitched together, then smoothed. “Of course, m’lady. If ye wish to prepare yer own pottage rather than Cook, we will be happy to provide whatever ye require.”
“It’s a broth I drink for my health,” Evie explained. “Herbs.”
The housekeeper bent her head, failing to hide an indulgent smile. “There is no need to explain yerself, m’lady. Whatever ye wish, is yer right. Ye are the lady of this keep.”
Yes, well, she had yet to come to terms with that and was doing her best not to think about her upcoming role as wife. She blinked, forcing her focus back to the matter at hand. Her tea. “A pot of hot water and a cup would be grand.” With a weary sigh, she lowered herself to the bench at the foot of the bed. “Just grand,” she muttered while attempting to rub the burning grittiness from her eyes.
Agnes popped out from behind the door of the largest wardrobe with a gauzy white garment draped over one arm. “I shall fetch it, m’lady, and whilst I’m at it, I’ll check on those lads. That tub and water should be here by now. Himself will skin’m alive if they dinna get a move on.” She laid out what looked like a nightgown across the end of the bed, then rushed out the door.
Mrs. Dingwall, her thin hands primly clasped in front of her narrow waist, gave a subtle dip of her chin. “Is there anything else her ladyship requires? Cook is preparing a tray for ye to enjoy after yer bath, and Lorna has ensured all the pitchers and decanters both in this room and the sitting room are refreshed. We hope ye find the solar quite comfortable.”
“I am sure I will,” Evie said, wishing for hot water and some alone time. That’s all she needed o right now to recharge. “You all are most kind, and I appreciate everything you have done.”
Mrs. Dingwall accepted the compliment with the barest tilt of her head. “Then I shall leave her ladyship under Agnes and Lorna’s excellent care. But if any need should arise, dinna hesitate to send for me, aye?” Before Evie could answer, the housekeeper gave another reserved nod and left.
“Will her ladyship wish to dress to go down to the great hall after bathing, or will she retire for the evening?” Lorna asked, pausing in her rummaging through a trunk. “Himself said ye was verra tired after saving Lady Fern and her new bairns.” The girl gave a shy, excited smile, bouncing closer as if bubbling over with a happiness she couldn’t contain. “’Tis truly an honor to serve one as wise as yerself, m’lady. If ye dinna mind me saying so.”
“You’re too kind, Lorna—and I’ll be retiring as soon as I’ve had my te—broth.” Evie pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the corners of her eyes again. Everyone addressing her asher ladyshipandm’ladygrated on her nerves, but she supposed there was no helping it. If she tried to correct them, they’d think that strange. She massaged her temples, wondering if she had remembered to pack ibuprofen as well as acetaminophen.
Another knock at the door sent Lorna to answer it. “’Tis about time ye two,” she scolded as she swung the door open wide. “Ye’ve kept her ladyship waitin’, and she’s far gone weary.”
A pair of gangly, barefooted lads shuffled in with a large metal tub and plunked it down in front of the hearth. Both wore pants that reached just below their knobby knees, and their dingy tunics billowed with every move. Neither young man responded to Lorna’s scolding, but Evie could tell by the way they cut her a surly glare that the three of them would have words later. The tallest of the two made a curt bow in her direction. “Murphy and Ronic’s got the water coming, m’lady. Beg pardon for the delay.”
The second boy didn’t bow. Instead, he tossed his disheveled blonde hair out of his eyes and grinned. “Aye, and me and Raibert here’ll bring all we can carry, too, m’lady. There’ll be enough hot water for whatever her ladyship wishes.”
“And your name is?” She needed to keep everyone’s name straight to let them know she appreciated everything they did. Heaven help her. As tired as she was, she barely remembered her own name.
“I be Liam, m’lady.” He smiled, then elbowed his dark-haired partner. “Raibert here’s none too talkative, but I’m happy to tell ye anything ye wish to know.”
“Aye, he’ll tell ye all right,” Raibert muttered. “He’ll have ye ready to cut out his tongue.”
“Out wi’ ye now.” Lorna shooed them toward the door. “Get that water coming, aye? Yer mistress is bone-weary after helping Lady Fern get her babes safe into this world. On wi’ ye now! Scat!”
After fixing Lorna with another serving of narrow-eyed glares, the young men lumbered out.
“I don’t think they appreciate your dedication, Lorna.” Evie scooted back on the bench, kicked off her boots, and sat cross-legged, wishing they’d hurry with the water for her tea.
“Raibert nay appreciates anything, m’lady.” The girl hurried over and retrieved the boots, then glared back at the door. “He’s me eldest brother and wishes himself a warrior instead of a servant.”
Evie immediately saw the resemblance. Dark hair. Larger than usual eyes that were either hazel or brown, and both had the same long, angular faces. “Well, he’s young. Maybe he can work his way up to be a part of Qui—Chieftain MacTaggart’s guard.”
The maid gave a polite smile but shook her head. “Nay, m’lady. Raibert and I were captured in a battle of sorts. Spoils of war, ye might say. We’re blessed that our lot in life is as good as it is.”
“Spoils of war?” If she wasn’t so tired, she’d call for Quinn this minute and ask what that was about.
“Not exactly spoils of war, m’lady.” Lorna’s bouncing sparkle disappeared. She stared down at Evie’s boots, picking at the laces. “Our Da challenged the chieftain, made a poor bet, and lost us.”
“Your father wagered you and your brother?” Maybe she wouldn’t be so hard on Quinn. Apparently, the plot of this story had a twist.
“Aye, m’lady.” Head still bowed, Lorna twitched a shoulder in an embarrassed shrug. “Da never wanted us anyway, so it worked out all right.” She lifted her head and managed a trembling smile. “And our lives are much better here. Truly, they are. Raibert wishes to be a warrior for…”
“For vengeance,” Evie finished.
“Aye.”
“Revenge can be a bitter pill.” Evie undid her ponytail and scrubbed her scalp, fluffing out her long curls. “It poisons the one serving it up as badly as the one receiving it.” A weary, mirthless laugh escaped her. “And sometimes, even when you have your revenge, it doesn’t help. The pain remains.”
The bedchamber door swung open again, admitting a beaming Agnes and two young lads Evie hadn’t met. The boys walked slowly, bent beneath the weight of steaming buckets swinging from the curved wooden yokes across their shoulders. They emptied the buckets into the tub, then fled the room after bobbing a hasty bow in Evie’s direction.
