Betrayed by Bertrice Small Page A

sisters were as finely ensconced. It was, to her eye, a very elegant chamber. There were heavy draperies of crimson velvet drawn over the shutters that covered the windows. There was a fine big bed with curtains of scarlet and cream-colored brocatelle hanging from polished brass rings. But the ultimate luxury was indeed the fireplace. There had been but one at HayTower, in the hall, but their bedchamber above the hall had been so cold on many a winter's morning that the contents of the nightjar had frozen.
    “Can I help ye?” she asked Nelly as the girl struggled to wrestle a round oaken tub from its storage space behind a small door.
    “No, thank ye,” Nelly said, rolling the tub before the fireplace. “’Tis just getting it out ’Tis tricky.” She began emptying a line of buckets set up by the fireplace into the oaken tub. “The lads will be up with more hot water any minute now. It cools on the way from the kitchens, but that is why I have this big kettle over yer fire.” No sooner had she spoken than there was a knock upon the door. At Nelly's bidding the door opened to admit a line of young clansmen bearing two buckets apiece, which each dutifully dumped into the tub.
    It was a fine tub, Fiona thought. It stood about three and a half feet in height. The sturdy oak was made even stronger by several iron bands that had been wrapped about the tub. The outside of the tub was polished smooth and clean, and she suspected the inside would be as well. Despite her early morning bath she was beginning to look forward to a lovely long soak in the tub, for her muscles were starting to tell her that riding was a sore business. The last of the water bearers disappeared out the chamber door, Nelly closing it firmly behind them.
    Fiona pulled off her cap and laid it aside.
    “I'll help ye, mistress,” Nelly told her. “’Tis me duty.” She quickly undressed Fiona, then said, “Pin yer hair up, lady, while I add the boiling water. Do ye like it good and hot?”
    “Aye,” Fiona said, a trifle embarrassed to find herself totally naked before a stranger, but Nelly didn't seem to take any notice as she cheerfully went abouther task of swinging the iron arm holding the black kettle of boiling water out from over the fire, lifting it up using a cloth to shield her hands, and pouring it gingerly into the oaken bathtub.
    “There now, and we're ready,” Nelly said briskly as she helped her new mistress mount the two steps up so she could enter the tub.
    Fiona sank down into the hot water with a gusty sigh. “Ahhh, Nelly lass, nothing ever felt so good to me as this does now,” she said.
    Nelly chuckled. “Ye’ve never been on a horse before?”
    Fiona shook her dark head. “They're hard creatures, and I've a soft behind, I fear.”
    Nelly laughed. “I prefer me own feet, thank ye,” she replied.
    Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening, and a tapestry hanging upon the wall by the bed was lifted up as the laird stepped into the room. “Good evening, my dearie,” he said to Fiona. “Ye may continue in yer duties, Nelly.” Then he sat down upon the bed.
    “My lord!”
Fiona had finally managed to find her voice.
    “Aye, lassie?”
    “’Tis most unseemly that ye be here in my chamber while I bathe,” Fiona protested heatedly. “Please leave at once!”
    “Lassie,” he explained in an amused voice, “watching one's mistress bathe is a pleasure, and I'll not be denied it. Besides, I see little more of ye than I already have seen. Nelly lass, bring me a goblet of wine before ye begin washing yer mistress.” He stretched his length out upon the bed, the pillows at his back, accepting the silver goblet the wide-eyed Nelly handed him. “Thank ye, Nelly.”
    Blushing, Nelly curtsied and hurried back across the chamber to the tub where Fiona sat glaring angrily at the laird. “The soap has a nice fragrance of heather,” the girl said softly as she set to work to wash her mistress. Lathering her cloth, she