“All finished!” Betsy announced, pulling the girl out of the tub and wrapping Eloise in a towel. “Now that wasnae so terrible, was it?”
“It was moderately terrible.” But Eloise was grinning.
“Let me get you ready for bed. Come, lass,” Betsy said, leading her away.
Francesca watched them go with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion, then turned to find Krista waiting with fresh linens draped over her arm.
“I’ve drawn yer bath as well, Me Lady. The water’s nice and hot.”
“Thank you, Krista.” Francesca followed the maid into her chamber, where steam rose invitingly from the copper tub. “You’re very efficient.”
“Aye, well, we try to keep things running smooth around here.” Krista began laying out towels and soap. “Though I’ll admit, it’s been busier since ye arrived. More laundry with the wee lass and her animals tracking mud everywhere.”
“I apologize for the extra work.”
“Daenae apologize! It’s good to have life in these halls again. The castle was too quiet before ye came.” Krista helped her out of her dress with practiced efficiency. “Too much silence makes a place feel like a tomb instead of a home.”
Francesca sank into the hot water with a grateful sigh, feeling the day’s tension begin to ease from her muscles. “Was it always so quiet?” Francesca asked, curious about what life had been like before her arrival.
Krista’s hands stilled for a moment, her expression turning somber.”
“Aye, for years now. Ever since the Laird’s mother passed—God rest her soul—there’s been nae laughter in these walls. The Laird, he shut himself away after that. Wouldnae have gatherings, wouldnae allow music or merriment. Just him and his ledgers and his duties, day after day.”
“How sad,” Francesca whispered.
“It was worse than sad, Me Lady. It was like watching a man turn himself to stone.” Krista resumed unlacing the dress. “The servants, we’d speak in whispers. The great hall sat empty most nights. Even the ceilidhs stopped—and those were a tradition going back generations. The whole castle felt… haunted, though not by ghosts—by grief that had nowhere to go.”
She pulled the dress free. “But now? Now there’s a wee lass running through the corridors, kittens underfoot, and the sound of yer voice reading stories in the evenings. The cook’s started humming again while she works. Fraser’s been organizing games for the children in the village. Even the Laird—” She paused, a knowing smile crossing her face. “Even the Laird laughs sometimes now when he thinks no one’s listening.”
“I hadn’t realized it was so… bleak before.”
“Bleak is the right word for it, Me Lady. A castle full of people, but empty all the same. So please, daenae apologize for bringin’ noise and chaos. It’s exactly what this place needed.”
Francesca’s heart clenched. No wonder Declan was so afraid of feeling, of caring. He’d watched love destroy the man who should have been his example of strength.
“The clan must have been worried,” she ventured. “Having such a young laird.”
“Worried? Aye, some were. But Declan proved himself quick enough. Strong, decisive, willin’ to make the hard choices.” Krista rinsed the soap from Francesca’s hair. “Perhaps too willin’, some might say. He carries the clan’s troubles like they’re his alone to bear.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he doesnae share the burden, Me Lady. Keeps everythin’ locked tight inside himself. Fraser tries to get him to ease up, but our Laird is stubborn as Highland granite.” Krista reached for a towel. “Though I’ll say this, since ye arrived, I’ve seen him smile more than I have in years.”
“You have?” The observation made warmth bloom in Francesca’s chest.
“Aye. Small smiles, mind ye. He’s nae the type for grand displays. But they’re there.” Krista helped her from the tub and wrapped her in the towel. “The wee lass has brought somethin’ soft out in him too. Somethin’ he’s been hidin’ since his father died.”
Francesca stood still while Krista helped her into her nightdress and robe. “What do the clan think of me? Truly?”
“They think ye’re kind. Strong in yer own way. Good with the child.” Krista began brushing out Francesca’s wet hair. “And they’re grateful ye seem to be makin’ the Laird happy.”
“I’m not sure I’m making him happy. Half the time, I think I’m driving him to distraction.”
“Aye, well.” Krista’s eyes sparkled with mischief in the mirror. “Sometimes that’s the same thing, isnae it?”
Before Francesca could respond, Krista continued with a conspiratorial tone. “Between ye and me, Me Lady, ye got the finest catch in all the Highlands.”
“Krista!”
