Accepting this change of mind and budget with good grace, the innkeeper bowed himself out of the room and left Blair to warm her hands over the fire and throw her wet cloak on the nearest chair. She had time to plan her strategy as she waited for Slaine to join her from next door and could hear him throwing things out of his saddlebags onto the floor.
I wilnae tell him I’ve let the other bedchamber go. I’ll wait ‘til after supper and then spring it on him when it’s too late for him to protest and change things. I’ll say it will make the innkeeper suspicious.
Pleased with her plan, Blair rang the bell rope for the maid, but it was unnecessary. The girl was already at Slaine’s door with four scullery maids in tow. Soon, the table was laid with a fine supper and the copper bath in the bedchamber was full of hot water. Slaine sat on the bed as he watched the maids fill the tub, biting his lower lip to stop himself from telling them to hurry and get out so he could step into it. Then he remembered he was not the only one who was wet and cold.
He stuck his head into the parlor. “Blair, lass, they’ve set up the tub in me bedchamber an’ nae yers, for some reason. Ye’ll have to bathe in here.”
Blair waved her hand at him to carry on with his bath as she took a mouthful of bread and butter with a lavish spreading of honey.
“Hie on without me,” she said in a muffled voice.
“Are ye sure?” Now it was Slaine’s turn to ask questions. “I’m awful dirty an’ it will take them a while to heat more water. It will also cost more to request another one.”
She nodded and shooed him away, shouting after him, “Make haste! The tea is piping hot.”
He shut the door and Blair heard splashing noises as Slaine tried to fit as much of his body into the copper tub as possible. He was successful doing this as the innkeeper had told the maids to bring in their largest tub from the laundry room, the one reserved for cleaning sheets and blankets.
Blair waited a reasonable length of time and then entered the bedchamber.
“It’s me own turn now,” she said to him with a beaming smile.
Slaine had dried himself off sufficiently but had yet to put on clothes. He jumped when he heard her voice and grabbed the pair of trews he had lain out on the bed.
Hopping from one foot to the other as he stepped into his trews, Slaine spluttered, “Honest to goodness, Blair Carmichael, ye are incorrigible!”
Unperturbed, Blair began to undress. “Look at all this water ye’ve sloshed onto the floor, Slaine. I swear ye’ve turned the floor into a peat bog.”
Not bothering to answer, Slaine ran out of the room, carrying his boots, shirt, and doublet with him. Blair watched him leave with a satisfied smile on her face. If he was not as interested in her as she was in him, he would have just become angry and told her to get out. Encouraged by these signs of reciprocated attraction, Blair continued undressing and then stepped daintily into the tub.
13
A Shocking Encounter
When Blair left the bedchamber, there was no sign of Slaine in the parlor. The rain had made things appear dark and gloomy outside, but when Blair glanced up at the clock on the landing outside their rooms, it indicated the time was only ten minutes short of six in the evening. From the sounds of jollity and clinking glasses downstairs, Blair knew the local tradesmen were taking advantage of the inclement weather, and drinking their fill in the taproom.
That’s where he’ll be. Probably with his head in a mug of ale and listening to the careless talk of folks as the beer loosens their tongues. I must dress and join him there.
She had left her riding habit to dry next to the parlor fire and it was no longer damp when she felt the fabric. The maid had put a clothes brush next to the fire, and Blair used it to remove the flecks of dried mud from her skirts and coat. She pulled a clean chemise and petticoat from the tightly wrapped shawl in her saddlebags and draped the light underclothes over her head and around her waist.
A pair of woolen stockings were tied above her knees and, after knocking the dirt off her boots, she tightened their laces around her slim ankles. Before shrugging on her neat riding coat and skirts, Blair went to the tiny looking glass in the bedchamber and checked her appearance. Staring critically at the pale little face that looked back at her, she allowed the knot on top of her head to come loose and for the curls to cascade down her back and across her shoulders. Then she tied the riotous red curls back from her face with a silken riband, sometimes used to hold up her stockings.
Still not satisfied, Blair returned to her saddlebags and took out a small pot of beeswax mixed with cochineal she had bought at one of the Flichity fairs. She dabbed the salve on her lips and looked at the effect in the glass once more. While not quite the vision of beauty Blair had had in mind at the beginning of her adornment, she was able to see a significant difference between the bedraggled girl who had staggered into the inn and the one in her reflection now.
Blair’s eyes seemed to sparkle a deeper blue with the unnamed emotion she felt in her chest. With her hunger and thirst satisfied, her cheeks were starting to regain their rosy tint, enhanced by the red on her lips.
The only thing left to do was put on her devantiere and go downstairs, which she did.
As Blair entered the taproom, more than a few heads swiveled to look at her. This was no harbor alehouse, but a taproom at a respectable inn, and after a couple of admiring glances, Blair was left alone to seek out Slaine amidst the busy crowd. She found him alone, pressed into a corner in an attempt to remain unnoticed.
He stood up when she approached him, nearly knocking over the table on which his mug of ale was perched.
“Found ye,” Blair said, and sat down next to him.
Slaine heard one of the young men at the next table say to his drinking companion, “Andthat, lad, is why ye shouldnevertalk to a pretty lass who looks as if she’s alone. Ye can bet yer life on it—they seldom are!”
Slaine smiled into his mug as he took a sip of ale.
“What can I get ye from the tap?” he asked Blair, perfectly happy to accept the fact she seemed determined to tempt his restraint to its limit. When she had come into the room, Slaine had to admit she looked as beautiful as a rose in bloom. He swore a silent oath to himself he would stay in the taproom until Blair had gone to bed.
