An English Bride in Scotland

  The bath was for her? And the food? Annabel was not used to being waited on. At the abbey, there had been one standard bath time for everyone at the abbess's discretion. She announced it was bath day, a large tub was readied in the kitchens and the women took turns using it. As one of the younger residents of the abbey, Annabel had always been one of the last to bathe and the water had always been tepid and dirty by the time she got to it.

  Annabel had suffered through it because she had to, but she had never felt clean afterward and had often slipped away to bathe in the stream as soon as she could. Actually, she had often slipped away to the stream between bath times too. Annabel had spent half her time at the abbey working with the animals in the stables and half her time illuminating texts. Her work with the texts was no problem, but working in the stables was a dirty job, and the abbess didn't order baths as often as Annabel would have liked, so Annabel had regularly slipped away to the stream.

  Unfortunately, the abbess had discovered her little trips and had not been pleased. To her mind, it was vanity that made Annabel want to be clean. The welts Annabel presently bore on her back were her punishment. The abbess never struck the women under her care, but she did make them do it themselves, and if you didn't bring on marks, she threatened a worse punishment. There were many worse punishments at the abbey. The abbess could be very creative when it came to punishing those under her charge.

  "Do ye no' like pastries?"

  Annabel glanced up from the tray to see that the older woman had paused in emptying a bucket into the tub to eye her with concern.

  "Oh, aye," she said quickly, picking up one of the flaky pastries. Annabel had no idea if she liked pastries. She'd never had one before. The cook at the abbey wasn't a very good one. The best she could manage was stews or other easy and plain fare. Not that the abbess would have encouraged cook to make such things anyway. She did have issues around gluttony and the women daring to enjoy their food. Annabel personally felt there was something a bit unnatural about the abbess's obsession with the matter, but had just accepted it as a part of her life.

  Now, she took a tentative bite and then simply held it in her mouth, her eyes slowly growing wide. She had never in her life tasted anything as lovely as that flaky pastry with the burst of sweet fruit in the center. While the cook at Waverly may have presented something as good at her wedding feast, Annabel had been too nervous to eat and had simply sat sipping at the honeyed mead that had been placed before her. But this . . . this was nirvana.

  A clanging sound drew her gaze to the maid dumping water into the tub, and Annabel popped the rest of the pastry into her mouth, and chewed on it as she looked around for her gown. She spotted it lying across the foot of the bed. Swallowing the pastry, she set the tray aside and leaned forward to grab the gown. Annabel quickly tugged it on over her head and then crawled out of bed, letting the gown drop down past her waist as she hurried over to help with the water.

  "What are ye doing lass?" the old woman asked with amazement when Annabel picked up a bucket and dumped it in.

  "Helping?" Annabel said uncertainly, a little set aback by the woman's shocked expression.

  "Helping?" the woman said slowly, and then shook her head. "Well, stop it and get yerself back to the bed to finish breaking yer fast. This is me job, no' yers."

  "Oh." Annabel flushed with embarrassment and set the bucket back down. She then scampered back to the bed and sat down to pull the tray closer. She had gobbled down the first pastry to rush over and help with the bath, but took her time and savored the second one. It really was delicious, and she couldn't help thinking it might be a good thing that the abbey cook hadn't made things as lovely as this. Her back would have been crisscrossed with welts and scars for gluttony.

  Despite taking her time, Annabel finished the pastry before the old woman had finished filling the tub, so she picked briefly at the cheese and bread. But she was no longer hungry, so set it aside after a couple of bites and simply sipped at the warm apple cider as she waited.

  "There we are."

  That satisfied comment from the older woman drew Annabel's attention to the fact that she was finished filling the bath and was now eyeing Annabel.

  Setting the cider back on the tray, Annabel pushed herself up from the bed and hurried over to the tub.

  "The laird said he didn't arrange to bring yer lady's maid, so ye'll have to pick one from the women here. In the meantime, ye'll have to make do with me," the woman announced, reaching out to help her take off the dress.

  Annabel was not used to the assistance of a lady's maid. That simply didn't happen at the abbey. At least it hadn't happened for her and as far as she knew the other women didn't have maids to dress or undress them. Well, except for the abbess. Perhaps that was why having this nice older lady trying to undress her left Annabel feeling terribly uncomfortable.

  Biting back the protest that she wasn't a child and could manage herself, Annabel suffered her help, but it was a relief when the dress was off and she could hop into the water. However, once there, the woman didn't let her be, but picked up a scrap of linen and soap. Rather than hand it to her, as Annabel expected, she dipped the cloth in the water, applied some soap and began to work it into a lather. Even then she didn't hand it over to Annabel, but swept her hair to the side over her shoulder so that it was out of the way and began to wash her back.

  Annabel sat completely still for several minutes, and then cleared her throat and asked, "What is your name?"

  "Oh," the maid chuckled softly, her back scrubbing stopping briefly as she then said, "I am sorry, me lady. I did no' even think to tell ye, did I? I'm Seonag."

  "Seonag," Annabel murmured, pronouncing it Shaw-nack, as she had. She then twisted in the tub to peer at her and offer a smile. " 'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Seonag."

  "Oh." The woman looked surprised, and then smiled back widely. "Well, I'm sure 'tis a pleasure to meet ye too, me lady."

  Nodding, Annabel turned forward again. Seonag immediately began to scrub her back again and after a moment, Annabel asked, "This is MacKay, then?"

  Seonag stopped scrubbing briefly, and then straightened and moved to stand at the side of the tub where she could see her face. Her mouth was wide open when she first got there, but she snapped it closed and then said with exasperation, "And well surely ye do no' ken, do ye? Ye were sleeping when the laird carried ye in. Goodness, ye must ha'e been sitting there wondering who the devil we all were when we came barging in." She shook her head and then said, "Aye, m'lady. This is MacKay."

  Annabel nodded. She'd assumed as much, but it was good to be sure. "And where is my . . . husband?" It felt odd calling Ross that. Annabel supposed it was because it was all so new.

  "Oh, he's off talking with Liam," she said as if that was to be expected. Annabel had no idea who Liam was and supposed her expression was blank at this news, because Seonag explained, "Liam is his second. He'll be filling the laird in on what happened while he was away."

  "Oh, aye, of course." Annabel nodded.

  Smiling, Seonag shifted behind the tub again, but this time to rinse away the soap she'd applied. As she finished, she said, "I'll wash yer hair now and then leave ye to finish while I sort through the gowns. There must be one or two we can make do with until the merchant comes around with cloth we can buy to make ye a wardrobe."

  "Gowns?" Annabel asked with interest, glancing around. Her gaze landed on the chest that had been carried in last.

  "Aye. The laird said as how he didn't even give ye time to pack a chest to bring with ye and ye'd need new gowns so I had the boys bring in Lady Magaidh's chest."

  Annabel bit her lip, but was saved from having to comment when Seonag had her lean back so that she could dampen her hair. She was very aware, though, that there had been nothing to pack. The gown she'd worn to Waverly had been burned. She wasn't even sure whose gown she'd worn to be married in. In all the panic of the situation, she hadn't thought to ask. She assumed, though, that it had been the wed
ding gown made for Kate to wear to marry Ross. It certainly hadn't been made for her. Her mother's servants had needed to add panels to the sides to make it large enough to fit her and had worked feverishly to get that done while Annabel had been bathed and prepared. Fortunately, Kate was apparently taller as well as thinner, and the three inches that had been cut from the hem of the skirt so that she didn't tread on it had been long enough to make two panels, one for each side.

  "Who is Lady Magaidh?" Annabel asked curiously as Seonag soaped her hair.

  "The laird's mother," Seonag answered, and explained, "She passed five years ago, so the gowns aren't new, but surely there will be something that will do."

  Annabel nodded silently.

  "The two o' ye are of a size too, so there shouldn't be much need for alterations except to modernize them a bit," Seonag added cheerfully. "And that is grand."

  "Aye," Annabel agreed as Seonag began to rinse the soap from her hair. But she couldn't help thinking this was the first time anyone had thought her over-generous curves were a good thing. Her mother had made several disappointed comments as they'd prepared her for the wedding, obviously wishing she'd been tall and slender like her sister, Kate, had apparently grown to be. Certainly the abbess had done nothing but criticize her for the gluttony she felt Annabel's size revealed.

  "There ye go. All done," Seonag said lightly, urging her to sit up in the tub again. "Ye finish up and I'll go start sorting through the gowns."

  Annabel accepted the cloth she was offered and began to run the soapy swath of linen over her arms and chest, but her gaze was on Seonag as she bustled over to the chest and opened it to reveal a collection of colorful material. She watched her lift out the first gown, a deep red creation that she examined briefly before laying it across the foot of the bed. It was followed by a dark forest green gown before a burnished orange one with a large stain on it was dropped to the floor.

  Several more gowns were laid across the bed before Annabel finished her bath, but the moment she began to wring out the cloth she'd been using to wash with and started to stand up, Seonag dropped what she was doing and rushed to grab a large dry linen to wrap around her.

  "Thank you," Annabel said with a crooked smile. She simply wasn't used to being tended to like this and was uncomfortable with it. But she didn't admit as much. The woman would probably wonder what was wrong with her. Annabel supposed this was how ladies were treated . . . when they weren't oblates in a nunnery.

  "Here now, come sit by the hearth and I'll brush yer hair," Seonag said, taking her arm as Annabel stepped out of the tub.

  Annabel allowed her to lead her to one of the chairs by the fireplace. There was no fire, but it was summer, and one wasn't really necessary. She was silent at first as Seonag pulled a brush through her hair, but then began to ask questions. Annabel knew nothing about her new husband, her new home, or the people in it, and it did seem that arming herself with information was a good idea, so she asked, "Was my husband close to his mother?"

  "Oh, aye. He worshipped his mother," Seonag assured her. "Lady Magaidh was a very special lady. Everyone loved her. She knew everyone's name from the cook down to the lowliest servant. And she ran this keep like a dream." Seonag sighed wistfully. " 'Twas a sad day indeed when she died."

  Annabel frowned. She had no doubt that she would not gain such lauding from anyone on her running of the keep. She didn't even know what was involved. What was she expected to do, exactly? Sighing, she let that go for now, and asked, "How did she die?"

  "A chest complaint. At first she just seemed breathless on occasion, but then she seemed to gasp for air and cough a lot. Then she couldn't even get enough breath to walk about. She had to run the keep from a chair in the great hall and then from bed, and then she just . . ." Seonag shrugged helplessly and finished, "withered away."

  Annabel murmured in sympathy and let a moment pass in silence before asking, "And my husband's father?"

  "Oh, aye, the old laird." Seonag sighed sadly, the brush slowing in Annabel's hair. "He died from a sliver."

  Annabel blinked and turned to stare at her. "A sliver?"

  "Hmm." Seonag nodded and urged her back around so she could continue brushing her hair. "It got infected. I fussed at him over it, but he waved me away and wouldn't listen. The truth is I think his heart was so broken from losing Lady Magaidh that he just did no' care to live," she added with another sigh. "When a black line started up his arm I knew he was as good as done fer."

  "Oh dear," Annabel murmured. Death by sliver. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. It was not all that rare, really. At least, not from what she'd been told. Sister Clara, who had worked with her in the stables, had once said that it was often the small wounds that were ignored and left to fester while larger ones claimed all the attention. Sister Clara had not been an oblate. She'd lived a normal life, growing up with her family before marrying and having children. It was only after her children had been married off and her husband had died that she had found her way to the abbey and taken vows. She'd said that life hadn't been the same without her husband, and she was content to serve God for the rest of her days.

  Sister Clara had taught Annabel a lot. She had been one of a very few bright spots in her life at the abbey. She would miss her . . . and hadn't even got to say good-bye. The thought made her frown. She hadn't been allowed to collect anything, and hadn't been given the chance to say good-bye to anyone . . . Could they not have spared just a couple of moments to do both?

  "Ahhh, that looks lovely."

  Annabel blinked as Seonag suddenly thrust a hand mirror with a cloudy, slightly warped surface before her. Then she simply stared. Mirrors had not been allowed at the abbey. The abbess said vanity was a sin, and mirrors were a toy of the devil. Whether there was a mirror at Waverly, Annabel couldn't say. Certainly her mother hadn't offered her one once she was prepared for her wedding and she hadn't thought to ask. The only time she'd seen herself ere this was in the surface of the stream she had swum in at the abbey, which reflected a wavy image at best.

  "Do you like it?" Seonag asked, smiling.

  Annabel reached up and touched her hair. Seonag had brushed it dry. It was a shiny, black mass in the reflection and flowed around a pale oval face with rosy cheeks. The maid had pulled back and braided a few small strands on either side of Annabel's face, clasping them behind her head somehow. It made her eyes look huge. That or she had huge eyes, Annabel supposed.

  "I look beautiful," she said with wonder and for some reason the words made laughter burst from Seonag.

  "Lovey, ye are beautiful," Seonag said with amusement, and then more gently, "Surely yer parents told ye that?"

  Her mother had done nothing but mutter with distress over how large she was, and moan over how shameful it was that the abbess had allowed her to get to this size. Annabel suspected that Lady Waverly would not agree that she was beautiful. She was saved from having to say so, however, by the opening of the bedchamber door. Both she and Seonag glanced to it with surprise, but Annabel had to lean to the side to peer past Seonag to see that it was her husband.

  "Ah, good. Yer ready," Ross said with approval when he spotted her.

  "Well, that depends on what ye want her ready fer," Seonag said with amusement, stepping aside to reveal that Annabel was still garbed in only the linen wrapped around her.

  "Oh." Ross stared briefly, his eyes slipping over her so that Annabel didn't feel covered at all. After his gaze had devoured every inch of her, he growled one word. "Seonag."

  The woman released an amused chuckle and bustled toward the door, detouring briefly to collect the gowns from the bed along the way. "I'll just take these below and see what I can do to repair and prepare them while ye have a word with yer bride."

  Ross grunted a sound of approval and tugged the door open for her. The moment the servant was through it, he closed the door and stalked across the room toward Annabel.

  "Oh," she said faintly as he approached. His eyes were fixed on h
er like those of a wolf on a wee, defenseless rabbit and she rather felt like a rabbit in that moment. There was something in his eyes that was making her extremely nervous. He looked hungry, and not for food. For some reason it made her think perhaps he wanted to consummate their marriage again. Although she supposed you couldn't consummate it more than once, though she was certainly no expert in the matter. In fact, she didn't even recall the first consummation, so she was as ignorant as could be on the subject, but she was pretty sure he was having some rather carnal thoughts.

  When his gaze settled in the area of her breasts through the damp cloth and he licked his lips, Annabel stood abruptly, her hand tightening on the linen she was holding around her shoulders. She managed a smile, but her feet were carrying her backward away from him as she said, "I am sorry for sleeping so late, my lord."

  "It was a long journey and ye did no' sleep well during it. I told the servants to let ye sleep in," Ross said, following her backward progress.

  "Oh. Well, that was . . . er . . . that was sweet," Annabel stammered as she felt the top of the mantelpiece bump against the back of her neck. Unable to move back anymore, she started shifting sideways instead and said, "Thank you."

  "Yer welcome," he responded. As he stalked her, his eyes dropped to slide over the linen covering her as if he could see right through it. That fact made her glance down to see that he could indeed see through it. At least he could in the places where the linen was damp . . . which seemed to be over all the more important bits, she noted with alarm and recalled Father Gerder's lectures on the evils of women and the temptation they offered. Dear God, it seemed she was doing just that without even meaning to, tempting her husband with the pleasures of the flesh . . . and on a Wednesday, one of the days the church had outlawed carnal pleasures.

  Annabel bumped unexpectedly into the second chair by the fire and came to an abrupt halt. Her husband, however, did not, at least not until he was a bare inch away. Crowding her against the chair, Ross reached for her waist and drew her forward until their bodies pressed against each other.