As she began rinsing out her hair, the door opened. She stopped and looked out from under her soapy strands.
A middle-aged woman carrying two buckets of water tisked. “Och, you’ll never get the soap out of your hair that way.” She placed the buckets at her feet and knelt beside the tub. “Get on your knees and bend your head as far forward as you can. And shut your eyes.”
The woman gave orders like she was in the army. Max would have loved her. She pushed Abby’s head down a bit more, and Abby had to hold the sides of the tub to stop from falling forward completely.
“I’m Jannet,” the woman said as she picked up a bucket and poured some of the lukewarm water over Abby’s head. She squeezed out the excess water and poured more, repeating the actions until she was satisfied. “There,” she said, pouring the last of the water over Abby’s head before once again squeezing the excess wetness out. She got to her feet and stood there as if waiting for something.
Abby flipped her hair back and gazed up at the woman. She was a stout woman with a straight back, but her face held warmth and, Abby thought, curiosity.
“Well, stand up.”
“Huh? Can’t you just hand me a towel?”
“Nay. I need to rinse ye off first.”
Letting out a sigh, Abby stood up. This was just terrific.Welcome to the eighteenth century, Abs.It took all her control not to cover herself in front of the woman as Jannet poured the other bucket over her front, indicated she turn around, and then poured the rest of the water over her back.
“Oot now.”
The moment Abby’s second foot hit the floor, Jannet wrapped her in a robe. “Go sit by the fire, and I’ll brush out yer hair.”
Abby enjoyed Jannet brushing her hair. It was much more relaxing than having it blow-dried. More than once, her eyes closed of their own accord. Of course, she was tired, exhausted more like, but she thought even if she wasn’t, she would find it difficult to keep awake during such ministrations.
A soft knock at the door sounded.
Jannet left Abby and answered. “Thank ye.” She closed the door and put a tray on the small table pushed into the corner of the room.
With her hair nearly dry from the thorough brushing, Abby wearily sat at the table. A bowl of broth, a chunk of bread, and some cheese had her stomach rumbling. After nothing but water for days, she could hardly contain herself from attacking the tray. The smell of the beef broth rose to her nose, and she sighed.
“Eat up and rest. I will return to dress ye before the feast.”
The moment Jannet left, Abby stuffed broth-sodden bread into her mouth and ate her fill. She drained a mug of sweet mead before collapsing on the bed, wrapping herself in the downy cover, and immediately falling asleep.
What seemed like less than a minute later, Jannet roused her. “Time to get out of bed. The feast is already underway.”
Abby refused to open her eyes. “Go away. I was dreaming.”
“Och. Get up. I have to dress ye.” And with that, the rotten maid threw the covers off, and goose pimples erupted all over Abby’s naked body. It took her a moment to remember she had taken off the damp robe the woman had given her earlier before she’d gotten into bed.
Abby tried to haul the cover back, but the woman was stronger.
“If you want to get warm, go stand before the fire.”
Sighing resentfully, Abby slid out of bed, and holding one arm across her chest and placing her other hand at the juncture of her thighs, she waddled to the fire.
Jannet set about pulling a shift over her head, and Abby helped her, thankful to be finally covered. But when Jannet tried to sit her down, Abby fought her off.
“Okay, so where are my panties?”
Jannet stared at her. “Wha?”
“Um, my underpants, um, undertrews?”
“Ye be a lass.”
Abby raised her brows. “And?”
Placing her hands on her hips, Jannet leaned forward at the waist. “Ye dinnae need no trews. Ye wear a dress.”
