BEATRICE awoke with a start when someone pounded on her door. The rumbling shook every belonging in the cottage and most likely would have woken the dead if it had gone on any longer. She wrapped her plaid around her to cover the fact that she’d been sleeping in only her fitting shift, making haste to answer the summons.
She opened the door, only to find the cook from the keep at her door.
“Well, come on. Ye mustn’t keep me waiting any longer. We have a busy day in the kitchens.”
“I beg yer pardon, but I did not realize I was to work in the keep. Has the laird been made aware of my guardian’s departure?”
The plump and rosy-cheeked woman nodded. “Oh! One could say that. He’s not pleased either and is furious he wasna told sooner. Now come along before his noon meal is late and we’re all scrubbing floors and chamber pots.”
“I need a moment to right myself, but yer welcome to sit down.”
Beatrice rushed back inside to get ready for what could be the longest day of her life. So long as she stayed out of everyone’s way, she was likely to continue working at the keep.
“How long do ye suppose I’ll be in service at the keep?”
“Until yer no longer needed. The stupid chit I had in there went and scalded her hand. I told her to be careful, but no one pays me any mind.”
Beatrice was attempting to tie her hair back when she noticed how dirty her skirts were. The embarrassing fact was that she hadn’t the means to acquire any new fabric. Everything she owned was in deplorable condition and no longer fit well.
When she turned to face the cook and walk out, the woman shook her head.
“Ye, lass, will need some new skirts. Nothing is fitting ye well, and ye need to keep some kind of presence if ye’ll be assisting in the keep on an ongoing basis.”
Beatrice felt her bottom lip quiver. “I understand, but I havena the means to afford anything else.”
“Doona worry about that. I think me and some of the other servants might be able to scrounge up something for ye.”
Relief swelled in her chest at the cook wanting to help her. However, how would working in the kitchens for Cook be? She’d heard rumors that the woman was a tyrant and had a decidedly bad temper, much like their laird. Her fury was a reckoning no man alive wanted to endure.
They walked as quickly as they could and took a roundabout way of getting into the kitchen.
“Why are we going the long way instead of through the keep?” she asked with a sigh. Her legs were tired, and her belly grumbled.
“The laird recommended ye stay out of sight until he comes to speak with ye later today. He’s extremely suspicious of yer guardian’s hasty departure and has some questions.”
How strange. The man had never visited the cottage, even when the stablemaster passed on. Why would he suddenly be interested in questioning her? Certain facts seemed out of place, and she couldna quite put her finger on them.
“Do ye think I have anything to be worried about?”
“Just do yer job and think nothing of it.”
When they reached the kitchen, the cook guided her to the station where she’d prepare the vegetables and later the oatcakes.
Hours went by, and servants came in and out of the kitchen without saying a word to her. While she didna mind the blessed silence, something didna seem quite right. For a moment she turned to face the kitchen door and found the laird coming through.
“Everyone but Cook and Beatrice leave this instant.”
A few of the maids, two male servants, and three other women left them in the dark and smoky room.
“Beatrice…Ye look just like her…” The laird shook his head and frowned. “It has come to my understanding that yer guardian has all but abandoned ye.”
“Aye, laird.”
“Ye will work under Cook for the time being, but yer to visit Mary Gwendolyn tonight for some education.”
Beatrice nodded and noticed how the cook suddenly went stiff as a board.
“Aye, laird.”
“One other thing…” he added from the doorway. “Do try to stay out of Lady Sinclair’s sight. Before I depart, I hope the old bat, yer guardian, didna say anything to defame my character. If she has, they’re lies. All of it.”
He glared at Cook. “Carry on with yer duties.”
Heat began to flush her cheeks. Beatrice held her breath, trying to find the opportunity to be calm, but she couldna summon the strength. A single tear dropped to her cheek.
“Why do ye suppose he’s making me go to that woman’s home for education?”
The old woman squeezed her hand. “My dear, I am desperately trying to find the good in that situation. However, I find that I canna tell a lie.”
The truth was splashed all over her face. The laird was expecting her to learn other skills, which would benefit whom? Lord, her head throbbed.
“We all know how the laird is and his special fondness for that dirty, despicable woman. Now we must get on with things. Doona worry yer pretty little head over things that have not occurred yet.”
A maid came rushing into the kitchen, flushed and completely scandalized.
Cook ran over to her, and the maid trembled in her arms. It was obvious that Cook kept an eye and watched for the young lady’s welfare.
“I knocked on the door, but when no one answered, I walked in. The man was naked as a babe!”
“Well, I’m sure the laird’s guest enjoyed sending ye into a fit. He didna touch ye, did he?”
“Nay. I ran out the moment I noticed my error.”
“There ye go, no harm done. I’ll keep my ears open to see if anyone mentions anything, but I doona think ye have anything to worry about, Elizabeth.”
Beatrice did her best to not eavesdrop on the two but couldna help herself. She wondered who the guest was and if she’d seen him before. Yet, none of it seemed to matter, given that she had to remain out of sight when Lady Sinclair was about. ’Twas an odd request, and she simply didna understand why. Though well aware of her deplorable appearance, Beatrice doubted it had anything to do with her clothing. Something else was amiss, and she wasna sure she wanted to find out.
She finished her duties, and when she slipped out the door, she nearly ran into a man, an incredible mass of muscle and flesh.
“Pardon me, sir. I think ye might have taken a wrong turn,” she whispered, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact.
“It would certainly appear so.”
The man turned around and said nothing more, leaving her in the shadows of the hall. Could that have been the stranger that Elizabeth had walked in on? Beatrice didna want to stay to find out and found the back entrance to the kitchen.
Finding Mary Gwendolyn’s garden patch was easy enough. Beatrice meandered through the tall stocks of greenery and shrubs until she found the cottage. A beautiful red-haired woman waited by the door with a younger blonde.
“Behold, Ada. The woman who will eventually replace us. She’s a curious thing.”
The blonde scowled. “She’s a virgin, that’s what she is.”
Beatrice ignored the comment, and her fears became real in that instance. If she ran, she’d risk punishment for disobeying her laird. If she continued to the cottage, her virtue would be lost, given the commander’s reputation of brutality or ruining women. Whispers of his dishonorable actions could be heard on any given day within the clusters of village women or castle servants out on their errands. The worst of the gossip being that the laird permitted the abuse and on occasion indulged in bedding Mary Gwendolyn, just as his commander did. A most horrible death sounded to be the most appropriate alternative.
“Miss Mary Gwendolyn, I presume?” Beatrice said.
The woman nodded and turned to the blonde. “Prepare her with haste. We only have tonight.”
“Prepare me for what?”
“Yer swift education.”
Before she could question the woman further, the woman’s companion dragged her inside and began tugging at her clothing. The blonde incessantly scrubbed her skin down with a wet cloth, and when she was done, the girl tossed a new dress at her.
As Beatrice dressed in the newly acquired garment, her hair was brushed through and braided.
“There. That should do it. Just remember that ye must wait until the last bucket is ready to be carried in and yer to bathe the laird’s guest.”
“I beg yer pardon, but what is this all about?”
“Ye’ll find out soon enough. Yer a pretty thing, and the laird is looking to gain favor with his guest. So be a good lassie and be sure to serve the laird right for this honor.”
Moments later, another servant from the keep collected her, and they entered through the kitchen entry. Most of the servants had already left for the day, and the castle was lit only by the randomly placed torches down the hall.
Up the stairs she followed the servant until they encountered two more servants with buckets of steaming water. The servant who escorted her then yanked her back, casting a gaze over her. “This will have to do. Be sure to follow Mary Gwendolyn’s instructions, miss. You doona want to displease our laird.”
On the woman’s final word, Beatrice was handed one last bucket and shoved into a room.
Dimly lit, much like rest of the keep, the room possessed greater light by the hearth, where a tub had been brought up. She approached the tub as quietly as she could, but the water sloshed about, getting all over the front of her gown and feet. She squinted and finally gasped when she realized the tub had an occupant.
Beatrice turned her head away to avoid the guest’s gaze and had attempted to pour the water when a strong hand clasped over her wrist.
“Judging by yer trembling hands and face turned away, ye donna do this often.”
“Nay, sir, I doona.”
He released her. “Ye can put the bucket down. The water is fine without it. Ye can turn around, lass. I assure ye I’m well submerged.”
Heat seared her cheeks, and the room suddenly felt like an inferno. Was she expected to serve this man in another way? Her belly swirled with nervous butterflies, bringing on a wave of nausea. How could her laird do this to her? Why would they subject her to such cruelty? She’d never done any harm to anyone, much less gotten in their way.
“Lass, are ye well? Yer swaying on yer feet.”
“Excuse me, sir. I only need a moment.” Beatrice stepped back and leaned against the wall for support.
Her head spun and chest tightened. She’d never experienced these feelings before. Her vision blurred a bit, but the sound of water splashing onto the floor all but faded into the darkness lining the edges of the room.
Large, wet arms held and lifted her, placing her on a soft bed. She closed her eyes but only for a moment. When she opened them again, a dark-haired, nude man hovered over her.
“I mean ye no harm, lass. Ye swooned. Have a wee bit of a rest, and I’ll see to getting m’self dressed.”
Beatrice couldna remember the last time she’d been bereft of her senses. The stranger had showed her a great deal of compassion and kindness to leap out of his bath to fetch her.
“Thank ye, sir.”
“Nothing to be thankful for, lass. I can imagine why ye were sent here, so for the sake of keeping up appearances, we’ll camp in here for the night. I’ll be leaving once I have met with Sinclair in the morn.”
Fear coiled up deep within her. She’d never been in such close proximity to a man before, other than her guardian’s husband, the stable master. What would this man expect of her, seeing as they would share the room?
“Sir, please. Come and claim yer bed, and I shall sit by the fire if it’s all the same to ye.”
His eyes widened, and then he frowned at her.
“Surely ye know if I wanted to take advantage of ye, I would have by now. Just move on over beneath the plaid on the bed, and I’ll lie atop of it next to ye.”
Her heart raced faster than her mind. Of all the things to suggest. She wouldna forget this night ever for the rest of her life.