Agnes clutched the cloth wrapped bale of a large iron kettle. Black from years of use, steam rose from its spout. The sight of it made Evie’s heart sing. Balanced on her hip, the sturdy maid carried a tray holding a cup and several saucers covered in linen. “For yer herb broth, m’lady,” she announced, taking the things to the table beside the window. “And Cook just pulled fresh bannocks from the oven, so she sent her ladyship some of those along with butter, honey, a fresh sliced apple from the orchard, and cheese that just ripened yesterday.”
“My goodness, such a bounty.” Evie hurried to the table and took in the lavish banquet for one. “I’ll be properly spoiled by this fine treatment. Thank you so much.”
“Ye’re verra kind, m’lady,” Agnes said with a shy curtsy.
For the first time since meeting the young maid, Evie noticed the puckered red scar starting high on the girl’s right cheek and running down to her jawline. Agnes always kept a thick fringe of her tousled red curls loose around her face while the rest was pulled back in a braided bun. The stocky maid also stayed in perpetual motion. A closer look hadn’t been possible until now. The scar appeared to be older. Poor thing must’ve fine-tuned the art of keeping the disfigurement concealed. Evie couldn’t help but wonder what horror the dear girl had endured.
The crestfallen maid shied away while snatching her curls back in place over the scar. “Beg pardon, m’lady, if’n I’ve offended yer eyes. If ye dinna wish me in yer sight, Mrs. Dingwall will replace me. She said for me to tell ye.”
Evie thumped the heavy kettle back on the pad and gave the girl her full attention. Tea could wait. “You do not offend me, Agnes, and I wouldn’t dream of replacing you.” With a sweep of her hand that encompassed the entire room, she gave the maid her kindest smile. “Look at all that you and Lorna have done to make me feel welcome.” When Agnes didn’t move, she gently turned the girl back to face her. “I judge people on what is in their hearts. Their outsides are just wrappings.” With a stern nod, she added, “I do not judge anyone on their wrappings.”
The maid’s blue eyes welled with tears, and she ducked her head. “Thank ye ever so much, m’lady. I willna disappoint ye.” She planted a hand over her heart. “I swear on me Mam’s grave, I shall serve ye well.”
“Seat yerself, m’lady. We’ll prepare yer plate.” Lorna gave Agnes an encouraging smile as she nudged between them, dragging a chair up to the table.
“Got more water, Lorna!” announced an irritated voice from the other side of the closed bedchamber door.
“Well, bring it in then,” Evie bellowed without thinking.
Both maids turned and stared at her, their eyes wide.
To cover her embarrassment, she shooed them away. In future, she must remember not to shout. “I can handle making my plate. Done it for years. Help the boys so I can have a bath after I enjoy this proper feast you’ve brought me.”
After exchanging dubious glances, Lorna and Agnes each dipped a quick curtsy, then scurried off.
Determination and the craving for caffeine set Evie in motion as she watched the others out of the corner of her eyes. She would never be a proper lady. At least not like they expected, and she had no intention of trying. To survive, she would align herself as closely with this century as possible, but other than that, she promised nothing.
What shehadpromised earlier in the day pushed through all the noise banging around in her head. Of course, the oath had nipped at the back of her mind all along. The daunting prospect of marrying Quinn gnawed at her like a puppy cutting teeth on a table leg. She shook her head again and reached for her tea, refusing to face this new reality just a bit longer.
The smooth warmth of the earthenware cup settled into her palms as if meant to be. She closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar, fragrant steam of strong black tea. Then she sipped, savoring the full rich flavor she would soon be without. How could she cope without her precious caffeine?
And be Quinn’s wife. There it was again. Stark reality and the pact she had made. Whored herself out for a safe haven in this dangerous era. She plucked a golden corner off a crusty bannock and popped it in her mouth. It could be worse, she reasoned, trying to tamp down a rising wave of panic. She could’ve fallen into the hands of a corrupt, unseemly bloke bent on raping and pillaging. That thought nearly made her choke on her tea.
“Get a grip, Eves. For cripe’s sake, you can’t lose the plot now.” She took another long slow sip and held the hot liquid in her mouth, then washed down another bite of bread. Quinn appeared to be a decent sort. Fine looking for certain. The physical part of her agreement would not be a chore at all. It was all the other bits and bobs that went along with wifery. Or what sheassumedwifery included in the thirteenth century.
She plucked up a slice of apple and bit into it as if attacking what lay ahead. Then she stopped chewing. Birth control. What in bloody hell would she do about birth control? She had about a month’s supply of pills and an old box of condoms that had probably dry rotted by now. After another hefty sip of tea, she set down the cup, bowed her head, and massaged her temples. As an elective at university, she had taken a course on do-it-yourself drugs—herbal remedies, she silently corrected. There had to be an herb that prevented pregnancy. But did it grow in Scotland?
“There has to be,” she whispered. If not, they risked a population explosion. She closed her eyes and shook her head. No. No risk of a population explosion because of the high mortality rate for both infants and mothers in this era.
“I must not get pregnant,” she muttered like a mantra, her eyes still shut.
“M’lady?”
Agnes’s gentle call startled her. She sat bolt upright and popped her eyes open wide. “Yes?”
“Her ladyship’s bath is ready.” The maid eyed her as if watching for signs of demon possession. “Are ye well enough, m’lady? Did the food not sit right with her ladyship?”
“Must you speak to me in third person? Stop saying her ladyship this or that. I am right here in front of you.” Her snappishness gave way to guilt the size of a boulder that sank to the pit of her stomach. Her lot in life was not Agnes’s fault, and she shouldn’t take it out on the poor girl. She managed an apologetic smile as she rose from the chair. “I am so sorry. Everything was quite nice, Agnes. Thank you. Please don’t pay me any mind. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that I am…weary.”
“A long soak will do her…ye…wonders, m’lady.” Agnes bobbed her head and hazarded a smile.
Evie noticed the girl’s strained attempt at cutting down on theher ladyship’s.As guilty as she felt for snapping at the maid, she hoped the trend continued.
“Aye,” Lorna chimed in as she fell in step on Evie’s other side. “If ye will stand in front of the fire, undressing will nay be as drafty.”
Evie gently but firmly pushed their hands away. “I can undress and bathe all by myself, thank you. Why don’t you two go on break?” She needed peace, quiet, a hot bath, but most importantly, solitude. A pair of maids fluttering about her like flies buzzing a carcass was not on the agenda. “Go on now. Get a cup of…” she paused. What did they drink besides wine, whisky, water, and ale? “Get a drink and go on break,” she finally finished.
“Go on break?” the two repeated in unison.
