Page 11 of Scottish Rose: Coira

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Lance dunked below the water and came up, smoothing back his wet hair. He’d scrubbed all the dirt from his body and wanted to look and smell his best on his wedding night. He felt bad he hadn’t presented himself in the best manner to his new bride, but he worked hard at cleaning up the castle and surroundings thinking she would be happy. Oddly, it made her seem fearful instead.

There was a quick knock at the door, and his squire walked in carrying the extra towels he requested.

“I have plenty of towels,” said Jack entering the room and leaving the door open. His arms were loaded down with towels, and in one hand he held a basket.

“Egads, I asked for an extra towel only,” said Lance. “That’s enough for the entire garrison.”

“I didn’t know what you’d be doing with Lady Coira, and wanted to make sure you had what you needed.” He put the towels stacked up on a chair and held out a basket to show him what else he’d brought. “I have wine and cheese and bread. And rose petals, too.”

“Rose petals? Whatever for?” He stood up and leaned over the tub for a towel, using it to dry his hair.

“For romance,” said Jack, with a dreamy look in his eyes and a silly grin on his face.

“Romance? We’re married. Why do I need romance?”

Jack frowned and his brows dipped. “Don’t you want her to like you, my lord?”

“I’m her husband. Of course, she’ll like me.” He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Won’t she?” Suddenly, he had his doubts. That bothered him. Coira did seem a little standoffish. Perhaps he should listen to his squire after all.

“I can’t vouch for that.” Jack put the basket on the table. “After all, she is a Scot.”

“Aye. So?”

“An enemy.”

“We’ve made an alliance. We’re not enemies anymore.”

“I hope she thinks so.” Jack went over to the bed and turned down the covers.

“Hello?” came a small voice from the door.

Lance spun on his heel to see Coira standing in the doorway with the old gypsy right behind her. She was dressed in a white nightshift and had bare feet. The gypsy held Coira’s clothes in her arms.

“Coira,” said Lance, suddenly feeling a little nervous. He stood there in only a towel while she wore naught but a thin night-rail.

“Well, go on in, or were you planning on consummating the marriage right out here in the corridor?” Zara pushed her gently by the shoulder. Entering the room after her, Zara hung Coira’s clothes on a hook by the door.

“Aye, come in,” Lance said, moving so fast his towel became loose. Coira gasped and covered her eyes with her hand. Lance quickly tied the towel.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?” asked Jack.

“Nay. Leave us. You, too, Zara.”

“Aye, my lord.” Jack left the room with Zara. But before he could close the door, Coira’s hound ran in and started barking.

“Get that thing out of here,” growled Lance.

“Aye, my lord.” Jack tried to catch it, but it ran to the other side of the tub.

“Nay, leave it. Please,” begged Coira.

“You want her to like you,” Jack whispered from behind his hand.

Lance let out a sigh. “Fine, leave the dog but everyone else out!”

Coira stood frozen to the spot, unable to move. The thud of the door closing behind her only made her heart race faster. She was all alone with her new husband who was standing in front of her in just a towel.