Page 19 of The Winter Laird
“None of it will do you any good here.”
She turned her phone on. “About that,” she said in what she hoped was an even voice. “Where ishere?”
His gaze never wavered. “The MacWilliam castle, in what will be County Mayo, Ireland, in the future.”
A breath whooshed out of her before she could stop it. Collecting herself, she asked, “The date, Reilly?”
“Sometime in November of fourteen fifty-seven.”
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no sound came out.
“What are you doing?” Reilly asked curiously.
“Well, if you’re really interested,” she said with a sniff, “I’m attempting to go into hysterics.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not well,” she grumbled, flopping back on the straw mattress. “I don’t think I’m capable. But I suspect it would be a good release of all the emotions I have rolling around in my head right now.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, if you’re done with that, give me your things and I’ll lock them in my trunk. If anyone discovers you with them, you’ll be burned at the stake for witchcraft. If anyone finds them on me, I can get away easily. Oh. I’ve brought you a maid,” he suddenly remembered. “She has clothes and will help you dress and do all kinds of, um, womanly things.”
Brianagh slanted a glance at him as she gathered her things, then handed them back to him. “Definewomanly things.”
“By the saints, I don’t know, Bri. Your hair and shoes and lacings and stuff.” He fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment. “You and I can talk more once you’re properly dressed. I want to speak with you before…um…” He coughed. “Before Kathryne does.”
“Who’s Kathryne?” Bri asked as a young woman popped into her room, arms laden with clothing, ribbons, and shoes.
Reilly shot up from the bed. “Your birth mother. See you in a bit,” he said as he shut the door behind him.
Brianagh couldn’t have responded even if he had stayed. She was speechless.
* * *
Brianagh smoothedthe skirts of her dress and tried not to fiddle with whatever it was Darby, her thirteen-year-old maid, did to her hair.
It was rather alarming how the girl simply walked over, stripped Bri naked before she knew what was happening, then just as quickly tugged a warm dress over her. With an authority Bri had never seen in any teenager before, Darby sat her on a stool near the fire, opened a wooden box that had been somewhere in the pile of clothing she’d carried in, and proceeded to wrangle Brianagh’s hair into a fashion “befitting her station.”
She reached up and touched her thick, dark hair. She had a feeling it was brushed to a gloss that a shampoo model would envy. It was pinned back on the sides with silver ribbons to match her dress, and cascaded over her shoulders in perfectly behaved waves.
The dress was simple but soft. Bri wondered what it was made from; tags didn’t exist yet, but she couldn’t think of another textile available other than wool. But she’d always known will to be rather scratchy. The deep blue fell in a soft fold all the way to the floor, and her leather slippers peeked out at the hemline.
They were effective in keeping the chill off her feet, and for that, she loved them. They also weren’t twisting her arches into uncomfortable positions like her heels back home.
“If you care for a wimple, I can procure one,” Darby offered, gathering the nightclothes in her arms. “Our laird doesn’t require one of the women in the clan, but as Sir O’Reilly said you’re from the continent…”
“No, I don’t like wimples,” Bri hastened to assure her. Darby nodded and dropped a quick curtsy, but paused when her eyes caught on something near the bed.
“I see the chamber pot is empty,” Darby noted.
Bri glanced with alarm at the large pot on the floor. She hadn’t even noticed it, much less considered using it. The thought of it was enough to make her feel ill; she didn’t want anyone emptying anything out of her window.
She made a mental note to keep an eye to the sky when she went outdoors.
“We have garderobes in this castle, my lady, if you prefer those. They’re marvelous things; they empty right into the moat, and the water carries everything right out to the fields in an underground trench. You know it’s good for the crops, aye? Truly, the laird is brilliant for thinking of such things.”
Bri managed a smile, and as Darby left, Reilly walked in and nodded his approval.
Brianagh swallowed. “The castle has garderobes.”
