I wish I could flee from my own skin. And last night’s exuberant dancing? Did not help.
Then there’s my hair. Greasy, limp, beyond saving. I’ve been carefully finger-combing water through it every day, knotting it into a braid down my back, but that only works for so long.
A knock at the door startles me.
My heart kicks against my ribs. Are they here to drag me to the pit after all? Should I hide the dress? But it was a gift from Hamish.
I’m still spinning out when the door opens.
It’s Callum.
Relief floods me.Oh, thank God.Then I’m flustered all over again. BecauseCallum. Freshly scrubbed. Unfairly attractive.
He’s wearing his kilt, but it looks fresher and neater, and his shirt is crisp and clean. He’s put on one of those beret-looking caps the men wear, and it frames his strong features. Beneath it, his hair has that soft, air-dried puffiness that tells me it’s freshly washed.
I force my eyes to stay glued to his face.Be normal.“What are you doing here?” The words come out too abrupt.
His brow dips, and with it, my spirits.
Yep.I’m as lame as I ever was in the twenty-first century.
“That’s a fine welcome,” he says, subdued. “I thought you might enjoy a bath.”
“A bath?” My face must light up, because he’s smiling again.
“A moment,” he says, before dashing outside. He returns with two buckets sloshing full of water, then disappears again. When he comes back hauling a metal tub, my breath catches.
“A bath!” I could weep.
The tub is small and round—so small I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit all the way down in it. But it’s bigger than the bowls of water I’ve been allotted before now, and it’s exhilarating.
Callum gives it a rueful once-over. “It’s no’ much.”
“It’s perfect.”
Perfect how he knew it’d be just the thing.
“I thought you might want a wash before putting on your new kirtle.”
I flush with heat. “You know about that?”
I’ve carefully laid out the green and tan dress, but now, in front of Callum, it looks strangely accusatory.
“All and sundry know about it,” he confesses. “The young Campbell giving the scullion a dress? You’ve got the other lassies jealous as a flock of Barbary pigeons.”
“Because ofHamish?” I snap. “Ugh. They’re welcome to him.”
I’m rewarded with a grin and…is he blushing?
But he turns his back to me, setting water over the fire and stoking the flames. The air between us vibrates—I swear if I squint, I might see it, like heat shimmering above a summer highway.
Sharing this small space with him is electric, but it’s soothing, too. Like sitting in front of a fire after being cold for too long. I breathe easier with him around. I can let my guard down. And if any surprises spring out to get me, I know he’ll be there to intercept.
He’s become a touchstone—the pinch on my arm that lets me know this isn’t a dream. That I haven’t lost my mind.
He makes this real for me. Makesmereal.
It’s especially nice to be alone with him in Donag’s cottage—it makes it feel like I’m claiming it for my own. Though, knowing her, I’m sure she’ll come back at the worst possible time. Probably just as I’m slipping naked into the tub.
