Page 8 of Claimed
She was aware then of the patrons—most of them men—turning their heads to look at the newcomer. Curiosity flowered on their faces, although Drew ignored them. Instead, her gaze went to the portly young man who hurried toward her.
“Lady Drew MacKinnon?” he asked, breathless, his eyes bright.
Drew nodded, glad that Broderick had sent word ahead of their arrival the day before. He’d wanted to make sure the inn could accommodate them all.
“Did ye have a good journey from Dunan, milady?”
“It was wet and cold,” Drew answered honestly. She was aware then that everyone in the common room was now gawking at her. The inn-keeper’s excited greeting hadn’t escaped any of them. “I’m looking forward to a hot bath and a meal.”
“And I will ensure ye receive both, milady,” the inn-keeper assured her. “Come … I shall escort ye to yer chamber. I will have hot water brought up for ye immediately.” He ushered her across the crowded floor toward the wooden stairs that led to the upper level of the inn, his manner suddenly nervous. At first Drew wondered at his urgency, and then, when she felt intent male gazes follow her to the stairs, her spine stiffened.
Suddenly, she wished that Broderick had accompanied her in here. She remembered his warnings about the ill-will many folk still bore her dead brother.
She hoped no one insideThe King’s Armshad a score to settle with Duncan MacKinnon.
With a sigh, Drew sank down into the hot water. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she inhaled deeply. Lavender and rosemary—the inn-keeper’s wife had added a special oil to the water, one which created a scent that now floated like a cloud above the steaming bath.
Lord, this feels good.
The day’s journey had chilled Drew to the marrow. Her hands and feet had felt like lumps of ice as she entered her bed-chamber. When she’d peeled off her clothing, she noted that even her léine, the long ankle-length tunic she wore under her kirtle, was wet.
Broderick was right—she risked catching a chill.
However, the hot, scented water was a balm, and as she lay there, she could literally feel the heat seeping through her chilled limbs and restoring them once more.
Eventually, Drew opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Although much smaller than her bed-chamber back in Dunan, the room was very pleasant. White-washed with dark wooden beams overhead, it had a tiny shuttered window and a large bed with soft cushions filled with goose-down. Deerskins covered the wooden floors, and a hearth burned in one corner.
This chamber made the one she’d left behind seem cold and austere in comparison.
Don’t get too used to it,she reminded herself.Soon ye shall be sleeping in a nun’s cell.
It was a sobering reminder. A nun’s life would be very different to the one she’d known until now. She had to prepare herself for the lack of comfort.
Drew’s belly tightened as she allowed herself to think ahead, to imagine how she’d soon spend her days. There wasn’t any point in shying away from it. Drew had always prided herself on being a realist. Entering the priory would be far less of a shock if she mentally prepared herself first.
During their last morning in the women’s solar together, Coira had spelled out the realities of a nun’s life for her. No longer would she have a large, soft bed; no longer would she wear brightly-colored kirtles. The rich meals at Dunan would be nothing more than a pleasant memory. She would likely have to cut her hair off, and would wear a black habit for the rest of her life. She would also have to pray several times a day.
The heaviness in her stomach increased. Perhaps imagining the life before her wasn’t a wise idea after all.
Drew sank further into the steaming water.
Glancing down, she let her gaze travel over her naked body. She’d regained flesh again after being sick last summer. Even so, the illness that had nearly claimed her life had left its mark upon her; pink scars remained from the boils that Coira had lanced. They were fading, but in the hot water still looked evident.
Drew suppressed a shudder. She’d been so weak after that sickness, so thin, that she couldn’t sit down without putting a soft cushion under her backside.
She wasn’t bony these days though. Her body had a pleasant softness to it; not that its appearance mattered much. Apart from Egan, no man had ever looked upon her nakedness.
And now no one would. Once she took the veil, men wouldn’t see her as a woman any longer.
Just as well, for life in the priory will turn me into a stringy fowl,Drew thought ruefully. Coira had also told her how physically demanding the life of a nun was.
Drew sighed. Her thoughts were going around in circles and ruining her enjoyment of the bath. If this was her last soak in a tub, with scented oils and the sound of the rain pattering against the wooden shutters, then she wanted it to be a pleasant memory.
With that, Drew slid down, and, holding her breath, sank completely under the water, letting the liquid heat chase all thought away.
She bathed until the water cooled. Then, reluctantly, Drew climbed out and dried herself off as she listened to the storm rattle the shutters. She was glad to be indoors on a night such as this.
She was seated on the edge of the bed, clad in just a léine, teasing out the knots in her long dark hair with a wooden comb, when a soft knock sounded on the door.
