Page 35 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

“We’ve got everything ready, milord,” Judith called out. “Come, eat and restore yer strength.”

Ignoring his usual place on the dais, Gavin took a seat on one of the trestle tables, beside his soldiers. Judith and the other women sprang into action, bringing out platters of food for the returning men, filling their goblets with hard cider and ale and pressing them each for details of their quest.

Feeling out of place, Fiona melted into the background. She picked up the ball of wool, but it was impossible to concentrate on spinning thread with the earl so near.

The men were speaking in low tones, making it difficult to follow the conversation. At best, she caught only small bits here and there that made little sense. Distracted, she glanced about the great hall and noticed one of the squires with a wooden yoke on his shoulders. Dangling on a rope from each end were two heavy-looking wooden buckets.

“What are you doing?” Fiona asked, when the boy passed near.

“Bringing hot water to the earl’s chamber for his bath,” the squire replied, his face straining with exertion.

A bath. Of course. After he’s eaten, the earl will want to remove the grime from his skin. Well, here was some way she could make herself useful. She had helped to bathe many a visiting knight and lord when running her own household and knew precisely what needed to be done.

Preparations were well in hand when she arrived at the earl’s bedchamber. A high-sided wooden tub had been set near the fireplace, where a small fire was burning to keep away the chill. The leather shutters had been pulled tightly closed, to ward off a draft and prevent the earl from falling ill, though Fiona had long doubted the validity of that precaution.

Fiona carefully draped the padded linen cloth inside the tub, then brought it up over one edge. At her nod, the squire dumped the steaming hot water inside. It barely covered the bottom. It took five additional trips for the water to reach a substantial level. By then, the squire was red-faced and breathing hard.

Fiona organized the rising buckets, then took the soap pot and towels from the beleaguered squire. He gave her a grateful smile and hurried away. Fiona rolled up her sleeves, wishing she had an apron to cover the front of her gown. She only owned a few garments and this was by far the best of her clothing.

“I wasn’t sure where ye had gone.”

Fiona’s heart gave a silly jump at the sound of the earl’s deep voice. “I’m here to assist you with your bath,” she explained.

Fiona heard the audible breath he drew. Anxious, she waited to see if the earl would voice any objections. When none were forthcoming, Fiona stepped forward. She reached for the edge of his tunic, intending to lift it over his head. He stiffened, his muscles going rigid, his chest barely moving as he breathed.

“Would you prefer to have your squire attend you, my lord?” Fiona asked.

“Gavin,” he grunted.

“Pardon?”

“Ye’re to address me by my name. We agreed.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. Gavin.” She added the last deliberately, trying to show her obedience. His winsome grin told her he wasn’t believing it for a minute.

Unperturbed, Fiona continued with her duties. He went very still as she began to unlace the leather ties of his chausses. Fiona pulled them apart and Gavin flinched.

Confused, Fiona raised her head. “Are you certain you do not wish me to call for your squire?”

“Nay. I want ye.”

A warm hand cupped her chin. There was raw strength in that grip, but it was tempered by hard control. Fiona wondered what would happen if that control ever snapped; then decided she’d rather not find out.

The tread of footsteps sounded in the hall. Fiona looked over Gavin’s shoulder toward the open doorway. The earl’s squire stood there hesitantly, peering at them with wide, curious eyes.

“I brought ye more hot water,” he said uncertainly.

“Pour it in the tub,” Gavin instructed, his eyes still locked on Fiona’s. “Then leave.”

Unused to such intimacies, especially in front of strangers, Fiona shook her head and broke his grasp. The chamber grew heavy with the sound of pouring water. Fiona busied herself near the fire, turning abruptly when she heard the unmistakable splash of water.

He’s climbed into the tub, she thought, unable to decide if she felt relieved or disappointed.More disappointed, I fear, having missed the opportunity to see him in all his naked glory.

Fiona took a deep, steadying breath that nearly lodged in her throat when she turned to face him.

Gavin was indeed in the tub, resting his head and shoulders against the cloth she had laid there for that very purpose. His left arm dangled over the side, the right rested on the wooden edge. Mesmerized, Fiona stared at his bare, tanned forearms and large, strong hands.

For the past few days she had secretly listened to the men and women of the castle spin yarns about his prowess. How he could ride faster and longer than any of his men. How he could pierce the smallest target on the first attempt. How he could wield a sword with the power of ten men.

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