Lucas followed his line of sight, finding that his brother’s wife was running toward them. Her normally relaxed face was lined with worry. Immediately, Lucas knew that something was wrong with Flora.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. “Did somethin’ happen?”
“Nay, nay,” Annabeth said, though it did nothing to settle Lucas’s worry. “It’s just… I daenae think that Flora can speak. She wouldnae answer any of me questions, but I could tell that she wanted to. Seemed so upset with herself that she wasnae answerin’ me.”
Lucas’ brow furrowed as he came to a stop. “That cannae be true. I heard her speak,” he said. Then he remembered the ride here and the silence the two of them had sat in. “Although she dinnae talk with me. It was only with the other girls. Anytime I approached, she stopped. I figured she was just afraid of me.”
“She probably was and still is,” Annabeth sighed, running a hand through her hair. She glanced between the two of them, then back at the castle. Her eyes lingered on Lucas' window, the one directly across from where he asked Flora to be taken.
“Perhaps,” Matthew said a few seconds later, “the shock has gotten to her. Lucas, ye said it yerself, we daenae ken what happened to the women before the hunt took place. We ken the girls werenae fed enough. That was likely only the beginnin’ of the hell they experienced. The poor lass probably needs time before she’ll speak again. Until then, we’ll have to figure out how to help her communicate.”
Lucas’s fists clenched at his sides. The explanation was sound. Going from a place where she was constantly in fear of abuse to somewhere like this couldn’t be an easy adjustment. Still, he wished that she were able to speak, if only so she could voice her needs, so they could take better care of her.
“She’ll need our patience,” Annabeth said after a beat, nodding to herself. Lucas could see the gears in her head turning as she began forming her own private plan. “All of the girls involved will—anyone would—but Flora most of all. I could tell just by lookin’ at her that she’s carryin’ more than just whatever happened leadin’ up to the hunt.”
“Aye,” Lucas said, his voice rough. He’d noticed it, too. She behaved in a way that spoke of a lifetime of pain. “We cannae expect her to act as if her life has been normal.”
He’d be as observant as he could when it came to her. If Flora wasn’t able to use her voice to share her needs, then he’d be her voice. She was his responsibility, and he wouldn’t allow her to suffer any longer, not when it was so obvious that she’d never lived a life where she didn’t have to worry about others. Even after he’d rescued her, the woman had held herself together seemingly for the benefit of the other women, completely ignoring the reality of the ordeal she’d just gone through.
“I will organize her care,” Lucas said after a beat, continuing on his path toward the castle. “Annabeth, she seems to feel safe around ye. I want ye to make sure she has a friend, someone that kens that life doesnae have to be that way.”
“Ye daenae have to tell me to do that,” Annabeth said from a few steps behind. “I can tell she’s a darlin’ woman. I can only hope that she’d be proud to call me her friend.”
As Lucas crossed the threshold, he spotted one of the servants carrying an empty plate. Guided by protective instinct, he approached the man and asked, “Did that come from the woman in the south wing?”
“Aye, Me Laird,” the servant replied, stiff and proper. It was as if he’d realized that he’d done something wrong.
“Was there nae a maid available to fetch the empty platter?” Lucas demanded, not bothering to hide his frustration.
Until Flora became more comfortable in the castle, he didn’t want a man who wasn’t him to be near her. Although if he werebeing honest with himself, he didn’t want another man around her at any point. Something primal had awakened in his chest the moment he saw Flora fighting against her captor, and it took root the second he realized that he’d have to track her down. He’d protect her from anyone, including the men who served as his staff.
“I was in the wing,” the servant said, bowing his head. “In the future, I will ensure that a maid attends to her.”
“Aye, ye better,” Lucas said, glaring down at him. “Consider this yer one and only warnin’. And make sure the rest of the staff is informed. Until ye get permission otherwise, only the maids will attend to Flora.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, stepping around the servant and continuing on his way. He’d need to arrange interrogations and coordinate the care of the woman he’d rescued today. The physical fighting was on hold for now, but there was still work to do.
Chapter Seven
Flora had been alive eighteen years, and she couldn’t recall a single time that someone had bathed her. Perhaps when she was a wee bairn, and her mother was still alive, she’d been treated as though she was cherished, but that had been so long ago that kind touches were foreign to her body.
“Yer skin is quite soft,” the maid said quietly as she ran a flannel over Flora’s shoulders, lavender soap dripping down Flora’s arms and back.
She blushed, staring down at the water rippling around her form. It had been a surprise when this tub had been brought into the quarters. She’d been even more astonished when the woman had asked to help her into the tub. Before the maid did anything, she voiced her intentions, not moving forward until Flora indicated she’d allow it.
“Laird McGowan had me bring ye a few different gowns to see which would fit ye,” the maid continued, her skilled handsrinsing away the suds. “I’ll help ye into one as soon as I get yer hair clean.”
Flora nodded in response, sinking down to wet her hair. When she resurfaced, the maid thanked her, then her fingers were scratching against Flora’s scalp.
“Ye ken,” the maid said, working up a thick lather of soap, continuing to chatter as she had been throughout the entire process, “ye have the most gorgeous hair. It’s so long and thick. And I’ll bet it shines in the sunlight.”
Flora hummed so softly it could barely be heard above the sound of the water sloshing. She wished she had the words to thank the maid for this, for making her more relaxed than she thought possible, and she disliked that she was unable to ask the girl’s name. If she could get her hands on parchment and a quill, perhaps that would ease her frustrations.
Though that would involve figuring out how to ask.
“All right,” the maid said as she rinsed Flora’s hair with warm, clean water. “Let’s get ye dressed, and then I’ll leave ye be.”
Flora allowed herself to be helped out of the water, and her body felt lighter as she was dried and then dressed in her borrowed clothing—a dark dress that was thick enough to keep drafts from chilling her. Having someone help with the stays and corset was strange, though not unwelcome. She wondered if this was something that she’d ever get used to if she had the chance to.
