The matron clapped her hands. “Get her out and dressed. The laird is waiting to meet her.”
“The laird?” Ailsa questioned.
“Aye,” the matron confirmed. “He’s the one ye can thank for yer treatment here.”
The matron gave Ailsa a look designed to get her moving.
“Of course.” Ailsa rose from the bath. The hot bath was tempting to linger in but thanking her benefactor was more important.
The maids clustered around her. They brought her a clean smock but only a surcoat to cover it with.
“I cannot meet a man in only this,” Ailsa argued. It was clothing suited only for her private chambers.
“It’s all we have that will fit ye just now. The laird does nae have any daughters and the roads are flooded from the storm.”
“Oh.” Ailsa felt her cheeks heat with a blush. “Please forgive me for being troublesome.”
She was covered and warm. No one would know she didn’t have a dress on beneath the surcoat if she didn’t mention it.
The maid behind her gave her hair a final stroke with the comb. The matron’s gaze swept Ailsa from head to toe and nodded.
“She is ready.”
*
“I am LairdKeith. This is my land, my stronghold.”
The laird was formidable.
Ailsa decided it wasn’t just his height or the bulky shoulders the man had. There was something about the way he looked at her. His eyes were so bright, they almost glowed. He seemed to have expectations of her, but she couldn’t guess what those might be.
He could hardly have been expecting her arrival.
But his lips were curved in a very satisfied grin.
That sense of foreboding returned. This time it was much stronger. Her lack of a corset and dress made her feel even more vulnerable.
But she mustn’t turn coward now.
Ailsa lowered herself into a curtsy. “I am most grateful for your hospitality.”
“Ye should be.” Laird Keith said pointedly. “If Brom had nae found ye and taken pity upon ye, there is no doubt that ye would nae have lived much longer. Do ye understand yer circumstances, lass?”
He actually leaned toward her in anticipation of her response.
“Yes,” Ailsa confirmed. “If I might send a letter to my father, he will compensate—”
Laird Keith turned around before she finished speaking. He made a gesture to follow him with his hand. Ailsa was uncertain to say the least, but the matron had followed her out of the bathhouse. The woman poked Ailsa in the back to get her moving.
“Really?” Ailsa turned her head to glare at the matron.
“The laird is master here,” the matron stressed.
Of course he was.
Ailsa was no stranger to understanding that there was only one master in any home. Her father treated her kindly, but she was still bound to obey him. Everyone had to keep to their place. It was the natural order of life.
She turned and followed Laird Keith.
