how to fight.”
Kade folded his arms across his chest. “And why, pray tell, would a lass have the inclination to learn swordsmanship?”
“To protect myself.”
“From?” the laird prodded.
“From Laird Ogilvie, as I explained. I suspected his intentions some time ago. I was afraid of him. And so I asked Ritchie to teach me some skills. In case I needed them.”
“Where were you intending to go?” Kade asked.
“I meant to travel to the Macduff lands,” I said. “Una Macduff was first of the Ogilvie clan. It was years ago when she married, but I had hoped, if I went to her, she might show me mercy, and allow me to stay. I passed by your keep, and I saw your fields from afar. I had no food for my journey.”
“So you decided to thieve from us,” said the laird.
“I’ll repay you, Laird Mackenzie. I’m not a thief.” I corrected myself. “I wasn’t a thief. Until yesterday. I offer you my services,” I said. “If you have need of a kitchen servant, or I’m skilled in the gardens. I can assist Effie. Ismay, the Ogilvie healer, continued to teach me in quieter moments. I can sew, as well. I’ll work until my debt is done.”
Laird Mackenzie paced across the stonework in front of the crackling fire. “You really have no idea about your bloodline?” An almost pitying note clung to his question, as though he felt for me in this regard and considered it a great loss.
His mild empathy touched me. And in the aftermath of this intense interrogation, I appreciated their patience and their acceptance of all I had revealed. I had a sudden and wild longing to belong to a family like theirs, and to know the kind of affection they so clearly shared for one another. For a very brief moment, I grappled with a desire to show them my tattoo and to reveal my deepest, darkest secret. I wished this horrible mystery could once and for all be solved, whatever the consequences. I imagined sharing it with them might bring me one step closer to them, that they might see that I trusted them, and they might be more inclined to trust me, in return.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Such a revelation would likely see me cast out in due haste and with disgust. I would never see Wilkie again, not even to bid him farewell.
So I decided against it. “Nay,” I said, thoroughly drained.
The laird stopped pacing. He spoke softly, yet there was a steely authority to his words. “You will remain here, for now, to comfort my brother. It seems you have a calming effect on him, which may help him to heal more quickly. It will be up to him to decide how you’ll be employed.”
I fell silent, and he continued.
“You will stay in his antechamber, under chaperone, to serve his requests for your company. Your reputation, at this point, is hardly an issue, but if you wish it, your presence in his chambers will remain secretive, aside from myself, Kade, Effie and our sisters, who will assist you with clothing. You will be fed, and you will be under our protection until our brother is fit enough to decide your fate. Our clanspeople, if they ask, will be told that you are an apprentice healer to Effie, hailing from a distant clan...Macduff, perhaps. And you will assist her as she tends to Wilkie’s injury.” His light gray eyes were unsettlingly cool. “Do you agree to these terms?”
Did I have a choice in the matter? I could return to the cave, to Ogilvie, or travel for weeks across the windswept Highlands without food in the hopes that a long-ago acquaintance might take pity on me.
“Aye.”
“’Tis settled, then,” said the laird. “Until Wilkie revives.”
* * *
ONCE THE MEETING HAD concluded, I was taken by Christie and Ailie back to Wilkie’s antechamber, where a bath was being prepared for me. Wilkie’s sisters—now that they had been informed of the ongoing arrangements of my stay—were determined to clean me up.
A large bathing tub, filled and steaming, had been placed next to the fireplace, where flames danced invitingly. An embroidered privacy screen had been placed next to the tub, and several luxurious-looking garments had been laid on one of the beds.
Ailie led me to the bath. “Here, Roses. A hot bath will ease you.”
I hoped she was right. I could admit that I still was not feeling myself at all.
The scent of soap perfumed the humid warmth of the room. Ailie and Christie laid out a robe and a drying cloth. I did not yet begin to remove my clothing, although it might have been expected of me. Christie touched my hair, stroking it lightly. “Such unusual hair you have, Roses. ’Tis lovely. So long and so fair.” I felt out of place being served and attended to; I had always before been the one doing the serving.
Christie remained welcoming and verbose, buoyed by the intrigue of my arrival and my presence. Ailie was quieter, and I suspected she wondered at my ongoing placement in her brother’s chambers and what it might mean to him, to her, to all of us. I guessed from her manner and her curious eyes that she could feel it, and so had I, and strongly: an unusualness to the intensity of my connection to Wilkie, and his to me. She seemed to possess an extraordinary perceptiveness, and I found, rather than feeling wary of her study, I felt drawn to her.
The sisters began to help me undress, and I was hesitant, conscious as ever of revealing my tattoo. But the heavy mass of my long hair covered me and I made a point of moving carefully so as not to displace it. I eased my sore body into to the tub.
The hot water was divine and seemed to wash away many of my aches and my fears for the moment. I washed my body and hair with a scented soap, rinsing several times.
“We brought several dresses for you to choose from, Roses,” said Christie, easing me immeasurably with the happy, easy sound of her chatter. “I thought the green, to go with your eyes. Aside from your golden-white hair, it was the first thing I noticed about you. The light green of your eyes. But then Ailie thought the pale yellow, to offset the tones of your hair.”
“Either one of them will be perfect,” I said.
“Do you have a favorite color, Roses? You know I guessed it to be pink, I don’t know why. So we brought a pink one, as well.”
“It is pink,” I told her. Not that I had ever had the opportunity to wear a pink dress, or a green one, or a pale yellow one. Course calico fabrics woven from wool by Ogilvie seamstresses were generally varying shades of beige or brown.
“Ailie orders the fabrics from Edinburgh. Occasionally we even make the trip ourselves, with escorts, of course. Kade came with us last time. And Knox the time before that. ’Tis so sophisticated, Edinburgh. I simply love the activity of the place, and the shops. Have you ever been to Edinburgh, Roses?”
“Nay, never.” In fact, before this adventure, I had never been away from the Ogilvie keep before, or at least not that I could remember.
The steam of the bath did odd things to my thoughts, hazing them in subtle incoherence, as if I was not wholly aware of this place. I felt almost alarmingly dazed and distant, and I missed Wilkie. My fingertips yearned to feather themselves over the scar-roughened textures of his skin. My mouth watered at the thought of his taste, the exploration of his tongue.
As though in answer, I heard Wilkie’s voice, calling to me from
