The little maid looked at her curiously. “I’ll dae me best, milady, although it will take some time.”
After they’d departed, Selene stripped off her still slightly damp and muddy clothing and flung on her robe. While she waited for the maids, she poured herself a cup of tea and snuggled in thechair by the fire, her thoughts roaming over the events of the past day and night.
It was rather odd, she mused. She’d not been a jot uncomfortable last night or this morning with her mud-stained clothing and windswept hair, when in Laird Kenneth’s company. Yet the minute they’d ridden through the portcullis at Duntulm Castle, she’d been overcome with an acute awareness of her disheveled and dirty – yes,dirty– state and now she could hardly wait to tidy herself again.
Whatever was it about Kenneth that made her feel as if she somehowfitted perfectlyinto his company, as if it was where she belonged?
At last, the maids arrived bearing two buckets of luke-warm water. Although it was not what she would considerhotit was definitely an improvement on the temperature of her previous bath.
By the time she’d finished bathing, she had decided that tepid, rapidly cooling water was onlyslightlybarbaric, although it was still far from what she was used to. However, unlike the first time, she managed not to shriek like a startled cat when she entered the tub.
“Progress,” she muttered to herself as she toweled her hair dry by the fire.
She donned her woolen stockings and boots and layered on several woolen petticoats, aware of the cruel drafts that sweptthe passageways and corridors of the castle. Over the top she wore a simple striped pink and white wool gown with a kerchief at her neck and a quilted fur-trimmed green jacket.
She was about to drape a large woolen shawl over her shoulders for added warmth, when there came a gentle tap at the door.
“’Tis Maureen. Are ye dressed and decent?” There came a slight chuckle. “Or lazing in a hurkle-durkle under the covers.”
Selene laughed as she opened the door. “Come in. I have not taken to my bed.” All the same, she cast a longing glance at her covers. Last night, for all that it had been pleasant and warm so close to Kenneth, there had been precious little sleep.
Maureen bustled in with a tray bearing another teapot, cups and saucers which she placed on the table next to the jug and bowl of sugar. She proceeded to make much of pouring them each a cup of the steaming brew.
“Was yer bath warm enough for ye?”
Selene tilted her head making a ‘maybe, maybe not’ gesture with her hands.
Maureen laughed. “Ye soft English lass. Ye’ll get used tae it if ye stay in the islands long enough.” She gave a careless shrug. “Or you’ll stop caring. That’s what usually happens.”
“Ha. That’s comforting. And that’s when you Scots give up bathing altogether?” She took a grateful sip of tea the warmth sliding through her like a blessing.
“Now, I wish to hear every detail of yer adventures yesterday. I heard Kenneth and Callum mention that ye sweet-talked a bull.”
“Oh, indeed I did. A great shaggy red-haired creature I mistook for a Highlander. Although, he was not wearing a kilt.”
Maureen burst out laughing and Selene continued on with her story. It ended in gales of laughter when Selene told Maureen of Kenneth’s trick in coaxing Selene to eat themaragh dubhwithout having the slightest idea what it was made of.
“Oh, but it was delicious,” Selene added, not wishing to hear herself called a ‘soft English’ yet again.
“And, I heard…” Maureen paused for a moment as if giving thought to what she was about to say. “…ye and me braither took refuge fer the night in an old cottage that was somewhat the worse fer its years of neglect?”
“And he looked so boyish with his hair wet and ruffled and his eyelashes dripping rain,” Selene said dreamily.
Maureen tilted her head and raised one dark eyebrow in a question.
Her cheeks suddenly on fire, Selene refused to say another word, even though she could see Maureen was quite desperate to hear more.
She jumped to her feet, taking Maureen’s cup from her hands. “More tea?” She seized the teapot and poured them both another cup.
The distraction had worked well. It seemed Maureen’s thoughts had turned to another subject. This time she was full of questions about Selene’s gown.
“I fear we may be a little behind ye southerners when it comes tae fashion. We must wait fer the birlinns tae bring us the latest pattern books fer our seamstresses. And sometimes they take months tae arrive.” She pouted.
Selene smiled reassuringly. “Don’t fret Maureen, your gowns are quite delightful. I don’t think you need to concern yourself about what is being worn in England.”
Maureen finished her tea and rose to her feet. “I must go, I have duties in the kitchen. Cook and I will be working on the supplies fer the coming week’s supper plans.”
Selene nodded and got to her feet to accompany Maureen to the door. She understood the duties well. She had been occupied in running her father’s manor house in the years after her mother’s death.
