Isla stood inside with her arms folded and a look of pure, unbearable satisfaction.
“Well,” Isla said brightly. “Good morning to ye too, me Lady.”
Ariella blinked. “Isla! What are ye doing in here?”
“Waiting,” Isla said, and her grin widened. “I went to wake me lady at dawn like I always do. Imagine me surprise when her bed was empty.”
Ariella groaned and shut the door behind her, as if that could keep the entire castle from hearing. “Keep yer voice down.”
Isla’s eyes sparkled. “Why? Ye want the keep to miss the fact that Lady McNeill did nae sleep alone?”
“Isla,” Ariella hissed, “must ye be so shameless?”
“Aye,” Isla said cheerfully. “It is me finest quality.”
Ariella tried to scowl. She failed. A smile tugged at her mouth.
Isla clapped her hands once. “Come. I’ll help ye wash up and dress before ye melt into a puddle.”
“I am nae melting,” Ariella muttered, following after the maid into the back room.
Isla met her with a small wash basin cradled carefully in her arms.
Steam curled faintly from the water, carrying the clean scent of rosemary and chamomile. The sight of it made something in her chest loosen all the same. Isla set the basin down withoutanother word, then placed a folded cloth beside it, movements unhurried and practiced.
“The water is warm,” she said simply. “I added the herbs that the body favors. They’re good for tired skin.”
Ariella nodded, grateful for the calm. She knelt, rolling up her sleeves, and dipped her hands into the basin. The warmth seeped into her fingers at once, soothing and grounding. She washed slowly, letting the water carry away the heaviness of sleep, the lingering heat of the night, the faint ache that reminded her she was very much alive.
Isla handed her a second cloth, clean and dry, then stepped back, giving her space without needing to be asked.
For a few quiet moments, there was only the sound of water in the space.
When Ariella finished, Isla lifted the basin and carried it away as gently as she’d brought it.
Then she returned and began brushing Ariella’s hair briskly. “Yearemelting, me Lady. Just quietly. Like butter near the hearth.”
Ariella covered her face with her hands. “I cannae believe ye.”
“Oh, come now,” Isla said. “I just cannae stop smiling about it.”
She worked quickly, lacing Ariella’s gown, pinning loose curls, tugging ribbons into order.
“Ye look well rested,” Isla declared at last.
Ariella’s hands dropped and her cheeks warmed again.
Isla leaned in, conspiratorial. “Also, like someone who learnedexactlywhat our laird’s bed feels like.”
“Isla!”
“All right, all right,” Isla laughed, stepping back. “I’ll behave. Mostly. I am off to the kitchens. Me maither wants help early.”
She reached the door, then paused and glanced over her shoulder, her smirk returning with full force. “Oh, and me lady?”
Ariella groaned. “What?”
“Remember the laird usually rises before all of us.”
