rushed over. “You have need of me. Lady Glenda?”
“Put the lady Rowena in the green room, Donald.”
“But—but when Lady Selena asked to have that chamber, you said it must be held ready for Lady Anne.”
Lady Glenda flushed. “That is because I did not want that sly woman entertaining her lovers in my sister’s room. She has the morals of a barn cat,” she said in an aside to Rowena. “Selena, not my Annie.” She glanced about the hall and grimaced. “There’s little we can do about yon riffraff being here, Donald, but the earl vowed I would have the arranging of the domestic matters in my own castle.”
“Aye, my lady.” Donald grinned. “Twill be a pleasure to see Lady Rowena settled in the green room.” He cocked his head, surveying her. “You’ll be wanting a bath.”
Rowena blinked, a bit dazed by the tempting offer. “Oh, but it’s so late...so much trouble...”
“Not at all.” He bowed. “Shall I show you up now?”
“I’ll do it,” said his mistress. Her lip curled slightly as she gazed about the hall. “I do wish Alexander would exert more control over his men.” She sighed. “Still, I know he has more important things on his mind.” The lady picked up her skirts and turned in a graceful sweep. “Come, let us away.”
“Gladly.” Lifting her muddy skirts, Rowena trailed after her rescuer. The older woman set a brisk pace across the entryway with its impressive display of ancient armaments and into a stone stairwell that spiraled tightly up two floors and opened into a well-lit corridor.
“Drat. I should have thought to bring a candle,” Lady Glenda grumbled. “’Tis what comes of acting in haste. Ah well.” She reached for a torch set in an iron holder in the wall.
“Allow me.” Rowena lifted the brand free.
“Ah. You are not one of those frail lasses who lets others do all the work.”
“If I were, I’d be home in my bed, not here, alone in a strange place full of louts and brigands.”
“Why aren’t you?” Lady Glenda asked as they walked down the hall. “Home in your bed instead of here?”
“I’ve come to ensure my son’s inheritance. You see—” she stepped through the door Lady Glenda had opened “—my husband died a week ago.”
“Oh. I am sorry.”
“So am I. Both because he was a good and honest man, and because our son is only five.”
“Ah.” Lady Glenda took the torch and thrust it into a pile of wood lying ready in the small corner hearth. The fire caught quickly, sending flickers of light over the fine furnishings—a tall, canopied bed draped in green velvet, a carved chest, a table and two chairs set beneath the window. “I know just how much of a challenge it can be, raising a child without a man. My oldest brother was two and ten when our da died. But our clansmen supported William. Is there no one to help you guide your young son into manhood?”
“Aye, there is, but Finlay, my husband’s cousin, and Father Cerdic are somewhat old and infirmed.”
“Mmm. That is a problem.” Lady Glenda plucked a thick candle from the mantel. As she stooped to light the wick from the fire, she groaned. “I am sorry for your loss and your troubles, but at least you loved and were loved in return. And you have your son...a living symbol of that love.”
At least you were loved. The pain stabbed through Rowena, quick and deadly as a knife thrust. “Aye,” she whispered.
“I—I hope that one day soon I will also know that joy,” Glenda said, cheeks flushing.
“You and the earl will wed?”
“He has not yet asked...but he is busy.” Her hands fluttered, unnecessarily tidying the bed drapes. “Tell me about your son.”
“Paddy is bright and quick and has a sweet disposition. ’Tis a joy to teach him, a thrill to watch him master each new task. But...” Rowena hesitated. Six years of living among the Gunns, of keeping her thoughts and plans to herself, made her cautious. Lady Glenda had befriended her, but if Eneas learned that she intended to have him ousted as Paddy’s guardian—
“But...?” Lady Glenda prompted.
A knock at the door spared Rowena from lying. At the lady’s command, servants entered with steaming buckets of water. Donald himself ducked behind the screen in one corner and dragged forth a small wooden tub. He set it before the fire with great ceremony, and the servants filled it quickly, then departed.
“Shall I send up a maid to help you?” Donald asked.
Rowena shook her head, dazed by the attention. “I’m used to seeing to myself, Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Aye, well, I cannot claim all the credit. Before he left on the earl’s business, Lion asked me to arrange things thusly,” said Lady Glenda.
Rowena’s smile faded. “I see.”
“Two of the Sutherlands will be outside your door tonight,” Donald told her. She did not make the mistake of saying she did not want a guard. “If you need aught else, send one of them down to me in the hall.” The steward bowed to her, then to Lady Glenda, and headed for the door.
“A moment, Donald,” Lady Glenda called after him. “I’ve instructions to give you for the morrow.” She turned to Rowena. “Enjoy your bath and sleep well. In the morning you can tell me more about the challenge you’re facing.”
“Thank you, my lady. You have been more than kind.”
Glenda smiled wryly. “While I cannot claim to know what lies between you, if anything, I know how it chafes to have your life ordered by a strong man. No matter how well meaning. If it is any comfort, I am exceedingly glad he did, for I’ve enjoyed meeting you. And I’ve said that about precious few people these past three months. I look forward to our chat tomorrow.” She exited with the grace and dignity of a queen.
Rowena sighed, drained and buffeted by the events of the day. Her emotions had suffered more ups and downs than a skiff on a wind-roughened loch. The quiet of the room wrapped around her like a healing balm. How lucky she was to have this haven.
Lion arranged this, taunted a little voice. Did he think to share this room with her, to take up where they had left off six years ago? Well, he’ll soon learn that she was not the foolish, gullible lass she’d been then.
Stiff with determination, Rowena stalked to the tub and shucked off her dirty clothes. “Ah,” she sighed as she sank into the hot water. It melted the ache from weary muscles and banished the cold. “This is heaven.” There were days on the trail when she’d thought she would never be warm again.
The urge to linger, to steep in the water as she used to when she was young and carefree, was tempting, but the bath was cooling fast, and if Lion was planning to invade her chamber, she did not want him to catch her thus. She picked up a handful of soft soap, sniffed appreciatively at the sweet scent of heather and began scrubbing her grimy arms.
Working quickly,
