Candle in the Window by Christina Dodd

“Damn! What did I tell you? Lady Saura is
setting all to rights.”
     
    “Shoo! Ye big dog, go on, ye don’t
belong in m’lady’s chamber.”
    “Let him in, Maud. He’ll just claw at
the door if you don’t.”
    The dog’s claws created a clipped rhythm on
the wooden floor and the bedchamber door closed behind them. Maud
scolded, “Every stupid dog in the world worships ye. Get over
to the fire and strip out of those clothes. This chilly
spring’s no time to take a bath.”
    “I hadn’t planned on it!” Saura
protested, hands busy with the lacing. “Oh, help, the tie is
stuck.”
    Maud dropped the clothes she was lifting from a
trunk and hurried to attend her lady. “Aye, ’tis wet,
and it would seem Lord William’s busy fingers knotted it
tight. If I didn’t have reason to know better, m’lady,
I’d say your performance in the bathtub smacked of an
experienced woman.”
    “I am an experienced woman—”

Saura smiled a lopsided, charmed smile. “Now.”
    “I’ve not seen such passion since the
first time your mother helped your father with his bath. She was a
maiden, too, but not for long.”
    “I was curious.” She lifted her arms
and let Maud remove her garments.
    “Curiosity, is it?” Maud mused.
“Nay, I’ve seen curiosity before, and that wasn’t
it.”
    Goaded by an interest she didn’t understand,
Saura asked, “What does he look like, Maud?”
    “ That’s curiosity.” Stepping back, she examined her lady’s
naked form. “Ah, Lady Saura, ye’re beautiful. Ye should
have been wedded and bedded at thirteen, like the other
women.”
    “And perhaps dead in childbed at
fifteen.”
    “As God wills, but I long to hold your babes
in my arms. ’Tis not too late, ye know. Ye’re only
nineteen.”
    Saura hugged the old woman. “Only nineteen?
Ha! Well past the age of marriage. Don’t open my mind to
hope, Maud. I can live with resignation, but if I begin to dream of
a man, a man of my own….” She shivered.
“I’m chilled.”
    Maud brought a rough towel and rubbed Saura all
over, handed it to her and ordered, “Dry your hair.
He’s big.”
    “Who?”
    “Who!” Maud snorted.
    “William? I know he’s big! His voice is way up here.” Saura leveled her
hand above her head.
    She plucked the veil from her hair and wrung the
water from the long, single braid hanging over her shoulder.
“He’s a magnificent stallion, and he’s tall and
well muscled. He has a pleasant voice, very pleasant. I know all
that. But what does he look like?”
    Maud tossed a dry under-shift over Saura’s
head and tugged it down. “His face is broad and stern, and he
smiles but rarely. But when he does, m’lady! His dimples show
even above that scraggly beard. He’s so blond, so light, he
appears golden in his bath.” Maud checked her lady’s
face.
    Enraptured, Saura clung to every word with her lips
slightly open and white teeth peeking out. Her hands, employed with
the business of unbraiding her hair, froze in midair. Her chest
rose and fell with deep inhalations, her eyes shone.
    To Maud, Saura’s expression and her sudden
interest revealed hope for her mistress’s future. Maud
expanded her description with sly intention. “He’s the
type of man women gawk at. Whoever they dress up and send in there
will be more than willing, I assure ye.”
    “That relieves my mind,” Saura said
wryly, her fingers busy with the braid once more.
    “Aye, I’m sure it does.” Maud
chuckled. “This relieves my mind, too.”
     
    When the door of the master chamber opened and
William walked out on Linne’s arm, Lord Peter had to fight
back a swell of tears. His son had returned.
    William’s beard was trimmed close to show the
strong chinheld at a determined angle. Cut into
a golden fringe above his eyebrows and around his neck, his hair
swung in cadence with his stride. He walked upright, his step firm
and his shoulders unbending.
    He was back again: William was back.
    “Father!” Kimball rose from