Page 24 of The Lyon and the Lass

Christine was beginning to get the headache she’d be trying to avoid all day. All the women coming and going were making her dizzy. What it came down to, she was afraid, was that there was no one to do the job except her but no one available to train her.

And, more importantly, no one to cook.

When the lasses in the kitchen had told her about Llioni being dead, she’d asked them who had been cooking the last few days. Apparently, one of the young lasses had attempted but the people who ate in the keep were complaining.

Tired to the bone, Christine again looked around the room. “I cannot sleep in here, husband. I dread to think of what would crawl on me once I’m in bed.”

That familiar look immediately came into his eyes. “Well, lass, I kenwhowill crawl on ye in that bed.”

She huffed, her face growing hot. “Not yet. I am still not finished…”

His shoulders slumped. “Ah, I understand.”

“Seriously, Kerrigan. Where are we to sleep tonight? Are there no bedchambers that are somewhat clean?”

He took her by the elbow. “Come, let us eat whatever they prepared for supper, and we can ask the maids and see if they ken of any room we can use.”

“I really need to clean myself up from our journey. Do you think it is possible to get a bath?” Even as she asked, she realized it was unlikely. After all, the kitchen fires had been allowed to die; where else would she get hot water?

Again he scratched his head, which she realized was something he did when he was thinking. Or else when she asked him a question he didn’t know the answer to. “I think ’tis best to ask John.”

“Who is John?”

“The mon who helps in the stable.”

She smirked. “The one with straw in his hair?” If that was who she had to depend on to get her a bath, she was definitely not having one tonight.

Her frustration grew. She’d not had a bath in days. Was it possible the Scots didn’t bathe? That didn’t seem likely since she never noticed a bad odor coming from her husband. “Kerrigan,” she said, “how do you bathe?”

He shrugged. “In the loch.”

“And what about winter? Where do ye bathe then?”

“In the loch.”

Her eyes grew wide. “It is freezing in the winter.”

“Aye, but I am used to it.”

It didn’t seem worthwhile to ask him where the women of the castle bathed because she doubted very much if he knew. She was beginning to believe her husband knew absolutely nothing about the castle or the keep; his focus seemed to be only the sheep and the problems of the clan.

She looked around, hoping there was a basin or jug of water, but the two items stood on a table next to the wardrobe, empty. With a deep sigh, she walked to the bedchamber door, gave herhusband a big smile she didn’t feel, took his extended hand as they left the room and descended the stairs to the great hall for supper. But of what use would it be to complain or take out her frustration on this man? She reminded herself she’d chosen him—without knowing him or his circumstances—as a way to avoid a life with a man she loathed. Despite all she’d seen so far, this was a better choice.

He patted her hand. “Do no’ fash yerself, lass. Once ye get everything under control, ye will see this is a wonderful place to live.”

So hedidexpect her to get things straightened out.

“I will meet ye at the dais in a minute.” Before he could question her, she hurried to the kitchen.

Chaos reigned.

Isla was shouting at two young maids who were rushing around, appearing to do nothing.

Supper didn’t smell at all appetizing and there didn’t appear to be any bread. She asked anyway. “Isla, do you have bread for the meal?”

“Nay. ’Tis Edward’s fault.” She waved her cooking spoon in the direction of a young lad, the contents from her spoon dripping onto the floor.

And her feet.