Smiling faintly, Jennet took Murdoc from Ranald and hugged the child close. Most everyone called Murdoc her child now. She did not mind at all, did indeed feel as if he were her own.
As soon as she told Ranald what she and Elizabeth wished to do, he agreed. He took Murdoc while she quickly gathered what she would need. On the way to the brook, Ranald paused only to tell another of Hacon’s men where they would be. Jennet realized she had grown accustomed to the constant watch kept on her. She no longer saw it as part of her bondage but as a necessary precaution.
This time Ranald did not take up his watch out of sight but remained close by, keeping his back turned to them to allow them some privacy. Since the time the Englishman had nearly killed her outside of Otley, the youth never left her side. She suspected Hacon had insisted upon it.
“Ah, this is wondrous,” Jennet murmured as, wearing only her chemise, she joined a naked Elizabeth in the slow-moving brook.
“Such modesty.” Elizabeth laughed softly, gave a teasing tug at Jennet’s chemise and began to wash.
“Aye.” Jennet grimaced. “Ah, weel, it needs a wash as much as I do.” Frowning at her sliver of soap, Jennet added, “This wee piece willnae last much longer. Mayhaps my aunt will have some I may use.”
“So, you travel to your family?”
“Aye. Hacon means to take me to Liddesdale.”
“You do not sound pleased.” Elizabeth frowned at Jennet as she began to soap her hair.
“I am a verra contrary lass.” Jennet shook her head, annoyed by her continued confusion.
“Well, ’tis true you can be sharp at times . . .”
“Nay, I mean contrary in how I feel. I should want to see my kinsmen. Howbeit, I dinnae like Hacon taking me to them.”
“Ah, you fear that he means to leave you there, that your time with him will end when you reach Liddesdale and your family.”
“Aye, that is my quandary.” She slowly began to soap her hair. “When he told me of his plans, I grew all cold inside.”
“You have a few days left to change his mind.” Elizabeth ducked beneath the water to rinse off the soap.
“But do I wish to?” Jennet asked as soon as Elizabeth stood up again. She ignored her friend’s soft curse of exasperation. “’Tis true that my heart and—aye, I must confess—my flesh crave the mon, but”—she tapped her forehead with one finger—“in here lurks naught but criticism of that craving. ’Tis in here that I am recalled to what he is—a mon whose living rests upon the death of others.” She saw the cross look upon Elizabeth’s face and quickly ducked beneath the water to avoid the lecture. But Elizabeth was waiting, undeterred, when she emerged again. “Ye mean to scold me.”
“I mean to try and make you see some hard truths, child. Sir Gillard is a good man.” She nodded toward Ranald, who was idly playing with Murdoc. “He protects you well. He gifts you with clothes.”
“Stolen.”
Ignoring that muttered interruption, Elizabeth pressed on. “He has ne’er raised a hand against you. He does not indulge in the wanton destruction and rapine the others do. Aye, and you cannot tell me he is not the first mon you have shared a blanket with.”
“He is theonlymon I have shared a blanket with.”
“But you know in your heart you will find none better. ’Tis hard for me to argue this, for I cannot understand your hesitancy.”
“Nay? What if the mon does keep me? What do I face in the years God grants me? Hacon will rush off to battle from time to time, leaving me to wait. Aye, to wait and pray that he returns alive and unmaimed. I shall spend my days praying that he can kill others with success, with no harm to himself. The thought is a chilling one. As he stains his hands with blood so shall I stain my soul, for I shall have asked God to spare him.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, a cool, deep voice drawled, “Such an abundance of beauty.”
Giving a squeak of surprise, Jennet quickly submerged her body. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her friend do the same, but Elizabeth looked more annoyed than embarrassed. Ranald stumbled to his feet, protesting Sir Niall’s intrusion but hindered from fighting the man by Murdoc’s presence.
“Sir Niall, I told you to leave,” Ranald snapped. “The women must be allowed their privacy.”
“Such concern o’er the modesty of a pair of camp fodder.” Niall chuckled when Ranald’s hand went to the short sword he wore strapped to his hip. “Do ye mean to fight me with your sword in one hand and the bairn in the other?”
“Ranald,” Jennet said, knowing that Ranald, a mere man-at-arms, could not challenge a belted knight withought bringing a great deal of trouble upon himself. “There is no need to spill blood o’er petty words.”
“He shouldnae be here. I asked him to halt.”
Looking back at the women, Sir Niall drawled, “And deprive my eyes of such a lovely vision? I think not. In truth, this beauty begins to inspire me to seek the touch of cleanliness myself.”
“If ye try to enter the water, sir, I shall have to stop you,” warned Ranald.
