Page 7 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
Dunbar introduced Davina and explained that she’d come with Everard from Mull and would be staying at Kiessimul. “… fer a while,” he added vaguely.
The lady, Mildred, politely nodded without asking any questions. “Greetings, Mistress Davina. Welcome tae Kiessimul Castle.” She looked Davina up and down, from head to toe, her grey-blue eyes missing nothing. “If ye come wi’ me, I’ll find ye somewhere ye can lay yer head.”
She turned to go, with Davina following. Mildred shared a few words with Ranald Dunbar, a smile quirking her lips. “Seems the MacNeil lads have a habit of finding lassies and bringing them back tae the castle tae be cared fer.”
“Och. Aye.” Dunbar chuckled. ‘Tis nae long since young Maxwell brought us his Aileen.”
Instead of entering the keep, as Davina had anticipated, Mildred led her across the courtyard toward a small herb garden, where a row of three tiny, stone, cottages stood side by side.
At the first cottage, Mildred waved a hand. “This is the home of the Gockman, Ranald Dunbar.” At the door of the next cottage, Mildred drew the latch and opened it wide. “We’ve nay spare bedchambers in the castle and this wee cottage is every bit as comfortable. We keep it for our guests. She gestured to the third house in the row. “That is our infirmary and where our Healer Broderick dwells.”
Davina marveled at the charming cottage. By the doorway was a pale-pink, climbing winter-rose, and there was even a tiny garden where snowdrops and daffodils were pushing up their heads in anticipation of the spring sunshine.
The cottage held only one room, with a fireplace and chimney at one end. Light poured in from a large window opposite the doorway. The stone floor was covered in brightly colored woven rag-rugs.
Davina stepped inside, looking longingly at the enormous, oak, four-poster bed in the center. Draped invitingly with linen hangings, piled with cushions and covered with woolen coverlets Davina could hardly resist the urge to fling herself onto the rare luxury. Beside the fireplace were two comfortable-looking padded armchairs. A small table and two timber chairs sat near the doorway.
The floor was strewn with herbs and the air was filled with the scent of lavender.
Davina turned to Mildred, smiling with delight. “Why, it’s lovely. Thank ye, Mistress Mildred. I’ve never had a place tae meself before.”
Mildred looked at her curiously, arching an eyebrow. “I trust ye’ll be comfortable here. I’ll send one of the lads tae build ye a fire and one of the scullery maids will bring ye something from the kitchen.” She cast Davina another searching glance. “Ye’re very pale, lass. Ye could dae wi’ some nourishment.”
“I am grateful. I found the journey from Mull tae be difficult and I will welcome a rest.”
“I’ll leave ye now. The servants will attend tae ye and I’ll come again tae see tae ye.”
After Mildred had left, Davina sank gratefully onto the bed, reveling in the softness of the downy mattress and the pillows. After so many years in her hard pallet at the convent, or worse, nothing but the stone floor for a bed when she’d been subjected to Dame Maria’s punishments, this was sublime.
Within minutes she’d fallen into a peaceful sleep, so deep she did not hear the servant lighting her fire. She was wakened by a tap on the door and a scullery-maid entering with a tray which she placed on the small table.
The smell of roast chicken caused Davina’s empty stomach to rumble and her mouth begin to water. She was suddenly aware of how extremely hungry she was now that her seasickness had subsided. Taking a chair at the little table, her eyes widened at the veritable feast that had been left for her. Apart from the roast chicken, there was cheese, bannocks and a honey-custard with apple pie. A jug of ale and a tankard sat beside them.
She’d never had such a delightful meal. After the sparse rations of the convent, she could hardly believe such delicacies existed. She savored every mouthful and took particular pleasure in the custard and sweet apple pie.
Just as she’d swallowed the last mouthful of her meal there came another tap at the door. Her heart gave a sudden lurch and started hammering against her chest.
“Who is there? she called in a small voice.
“’Tis only meself, Everard MacNeil.” He must have registered the fear in her voice for he softened his brusque tone. “Dinnae fash, lass. Ye’re safe here at Kiessimul.”
“Please come in.” She patted her lips with the napkin and turned to greet him. Getting to her feet she curtsied as he strode through the door.
“I came tae make sure ye were comfortable.” He glanced around. “I see Mildred has provided ye with some comfort after yer… sea voyage.” He grinned. “I am pleased tae see ye are filling yer wee belly, as there was naught left in it by the time we arrived.”
To her surprise, Davina found herself smiling. Already the voyage and her battle with sea-sickness were disappearing into the past.
“I am grateful fer all that ye’ve done fer me, me laird.”
He pulled out the other chair and joined her at the table. “If nae fer me braither Maxwell and his wife Aileen visiting the castle tomorrow, there would have been a chamber available fer ye in the keep.”
“’Tis very fine here, me laird. This wee cottage is more than I deserve.” She looked up and met his gaze. It was time to broach the incident that had taken place before they sailed, when the two men had approached him. “I wish tae thank ye also fer believing me story and nae giving me up tae those men who were searching fer me.”
“Aye. There was something about yer story that told me those men meant ye harm.”
“All I ken is that they must have followed me from the convent. I dinnae ken the purpose of their search e, yet the sight of them filled me with dread and a terrible fear of being captured.”
He nodded, understanding and compassion in his gaze. “I assure ye, ye are safe here. Our entrance is well guarded and nay one will enter. Our castle is nae only our home, but a fortress as well.”
