Page 15 of The Curse of McMillan Castle
“Well, geez, thank you, Baodan. You really shouldn’t flatter me so.” She laughed again and continued. “It’s been a long day, okay? And sure, a bath sounds wonderful.”
She turned and looked at him. “Goodnight, Duncan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
On impulse, he leaned down low to whisper in her ear. “I think ye look lovely, lass. Sleep well, Madeline. Thank ye for yer kindness today.”
Without another word, the lass whirled and took off toward the castle at a much quicker pace than she’d left it.
No wonder he was still alone. He’d never had much of a way with the lassies.
* * *
Madeline
Iwas still trembling by the time I made it to my bedroom, but this time my shaking hands had nothing to do with watching my stepmother faint. The feel of Duncan’s warm breath against the side of my face had quite nearly undone me. It took me until the tub in my room was fully filled and ready for me before I was able to compose myself.
I was too old for this nonsense. Too old to be lusting after a man I didn’t know. Too old to be imagining what he looked like underneath his kilt, and just how good it would feel to have his hands rip my dress right off of me.
Shaking my head, I thanked the young woman who’d drawn my bath and moved to undress in front of the mirror. The moment I gazed back at my reflection, I reared back in horror.
No wonder Baodan had been so blunt. I looked as if I’d spent the past week sleeping in the stables. The day had been so strange and busy that I’d completely forgotten that when exposed to moisture—and without the necessary hairspray I relied so heavily upon in my own time—my hair would balloon up to three times its normal height and size.
I looked ridiculous. Not only was my hair almost out past the width of my shoulders, but the bottom of my dress was caked in mud from the hike back from Henry’s. And on top of everything, there was a giant piece of food stuck in between my two front teeth.
Mortified, I scrambled out of my dress and all but dove into the tub, putting my head all the way underneath the water.
Perhaps if I held my breath long enough, the lack of oxygen would help me to forget the entire embarrassing ordeal.
Duncan didn’t think I looked lovely—there was no way in hell that was true. He was just a kind man showing me pity.
I might as well have been in the skin of my thirteen-year-old daughter. Mortified by a boy. Embarrassed beyond comprehension. There was no coming back from this. No recovery. Nothing I could do to save face.
I was never leaving my bedroom again.
And that was simply the end of it.
Chapter 10
Rosie
Once again, Rosie found herself wide awake while the rest of the castle slept, but this time one of her beloved books wasn’t the source of her insomnia.
The events of the day ate at her, churning over and over incessantly as she tried to figure out what she could do.
She loved her new grandmother. She understood her desire to protect Baodan and keep him from feeling the loss of his first wife again.
But her grandmother’s decision was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.
If Osla wanted to be back in this castle badly enough to haunt Duncan until he brought her here, Rosie knew being locked deep down in the cellar wouldn’t do.
Osla had once been the lady of this castle. She deserved to be put in a place of respect—she deserved to be loved. She deserved to be seen and looked at and acknowledged. If Rosie could do nothing else, she could at least do that.
Rosie glanced around her room as the idea took root. There was so much space in her new room, plenty of places to keep a portrait.
Setting her mind to it, Rosie slipped on her shoes, picked up her candle, and left her bedroom in the dead of night.
She would see Osla out of the cellar and into the best room in the whole castle. It was the least the poor woman deserved.
So what if the portrait really was haunted, Rosie thought to herself?
