Lorna scrambled to cover herself. Gunn might have no qualms about greeting visitors naked, but she did.
The door opened the tiniest bit. “Sir Jasper sent me, my chieftain,” Ebby said through the crack, her voice quaking. “Edmond has returned with a high constable from Edinburgh.”
“A high constable from Edinburgh?” Lorna repeated. “I thought Jasper sent Edmond to Inverness to fetch the solicitor.”
“He did.” Gunn pulled on his boots, yanked on his léine, then belted his great kilt around his body with impressive speed. He tossed a glance at the barely opened door as he raked his hair back and secured it with a strip of leather. “Ebby, yer mistress needs help dressing.” Before the maid responded, he strode back to the bed and leaned close, lowering his voice for Lorna alone. “We will receive the high constable together. In the library.”
Clutching the bedsheet to her chest, she feared what the constable might want. She couldn’t remember an Earl of Caithness being caught up in any political turmoil. At least not in this century. But that didn’t mean things couldn’t change or that she just hadn’t read about it. After all, her very presence had to have altered history’s timeline.
“Stay with me,” she said. “Let Jasper find out what the man wants.”
With a gently chiding look, he shook his head. “I am chieftain, m’love. The task is mine to bear. Not Jasper’s.”
“Will ye at least wait in yer solar until I am dressed so we can go down together?” She ached with the need to protect him. It might be silly, but she didn’t care. She would do whatever it took to guard her new family and keep them safe. “I dinna want ye going down there alone.”
He tipped his head. “Aye,mo ghráidh. I shall await ye in my solar.”
She pulled him to her for another kiss, then whispered against his mouth, “I love ye.”
“And I love ye, precious one.” He playfully tugged on the tress curled against her cheek. “Make haste, aye?”
She nodded, then floundered out of the bed with the sheet wrapped around her. “Ebby, hurry!”
The maid burst into the room, dipped a stumbling curtsy at Gunn as he exited, then rushed to the wardrobe and threw the doors open wide. “I took the liberty of moving yer things in here when the chieftain went to fetch ye from the tunnels.” She cast a shy smile back at Lorna. “I knew in my heart the two of ye were meant to be.”
“I am glad ye were so sure.” Lorna returned to the washbasin, tossed the grimy water into the bucket beside the cabinet, and refilled the wash bowl with fresh water. After wetting and soaping a rag, she moved closer to the fire to do her scrubbing. What she wouldn’t give for a hot shower or a warm, sudsy bath. Instead, she had cold water and a hearth fire. But she wouldn’t complain. Because now she had something she had never had before: love and a family.
“M’lady!” Ebby snatched the rag out of her hand. “The chief’s wife doesna wash herself. Her lady’s maid does it for her. Mrs. Thistlewick said so.”
“M’lady?” Lorna relinquished the task with a sigh. “Why the suddenm’lady?”
“Not only are ye the lady of this keep,” Ebby said while scrubbing her back, “but ye are a countess as well, since himself is the Earl of Caithness.” She paused and gently angled her closer to the fire. “Ye have a wicked bruise coming on. Mrs. Thistlewick will need to fix ye a comfrey poultice for that.”
Now that Ebby brought her attention to it, that side of Lorna’s back was tender. “It probably happened when Gunn yanked me out of the hole before the rock fell.”
“Praise God Almighty he was able to save ye.” Ebby rinsed out the rag, wet another, then started wiping down Lorna’s arms and legs. “We’ve no time for washing yer hair, but I can brush it till it shines.” She cast a glance at the rumpled bed with the sheets and blankets dragged off into the floor. “And I shall tell Alice and Janie that bed needs changing. Yer water pitchers are nearly spent too.” She tossed the rag into the bowl, snapped open a long fold of fresh linen, and started rubbing Lorna dry. “We will get every bit of it seen to whilst ye are gone to the library.”
“I dinna wish ye to miss the feast.” The concept of servants who would hop every time she saidscatstill made Lorna uncomfortable. And she didn’t want to cause anyone to miss something as special as a Yuletide celebration. The mouth-watering scent of Cook’s roasting boar and the buttery yeastiness of the freshly baked breads and pies had filled the keep since before dawn. “I can straighten the bed, and that pitcher on the end still has plenty of water.”
Ebby’s mouth dropped open and her eyes flared as wide as if Lorna had suggested they set the place on fire. “Ye will do no such thing, m’lady!” She clucked like a fussing hen while vigorously rubbing scented oils into Lorna’s skin. “I can see right now that ye are going to be the death of me until ye ken how to behave like the mistress of this keep.”
“The mistress of this keep cares about each one of ye as though ye are family,” Lorna said. “Ye are not slaves that are supposed to jump at my every whim.”
“Ye are a kind woman, m’lady, but me and all the rest of the servants need to be needed here. ’Tis good for the soul to earn yer keep. That’s what Mrs. Thistlewick always says.” Ebby hurried to the wardrobe and drew out an outer skirt and jacket that Lorna hadn’t seen before. The deep richness of the blue was fit for royalty. The maid draped it across the end of the bed, then opened a nearby trunk and pulled out a fresh shift, embroidered underskirt, and stockings.
Lorna gave up. It was the way of things in this time and would take years to change it. “Well, let’s hurry and get me fit for company, aye? I can hear Gunn pacing in the next room.”
With impressive efficiency and a surprising lack of clumsiness, Ebby helped her dress in record time.
After smoothing her hands down the heavy weave of the wool skirt, Lorna hurried into the solar. Gunn stood at the window, whisky in hand, scowling as though preparing to wage war.
“Are ye ready?” she asked softly, resenting the potential drama overshadowing what had turned out to be one of the most precious days of her life.
He turned from the window, and his scowl disappeared. “Ye are loveliness itself.”
“Thank ye.”
With a wry grin, he lifted his glass. “I dinna suppose ye wish a wee bit of fortification first?”
