Page 16 of Wed to the Highlander
“I’m tae help you wi’ a bath, my lady.”
Maggie withheld a sigh of relief that she spoke recognizable English. “I don’t think there’s time to haul water. Supper is in an hour.”
“No’ to worry...”
She entered the bathing room and, a moment later, Maggie heard running water. She followed, surprised to see steam curling toward the ceiling as the tub filled from a pipe in the wall.
“You’ve got running hot water!” she exclaimed.
“Aye,” the woman said, clearly amused. “It surprises most who arrive expectin’ wooden tubs and kettle hauls.”
“How?” she asked, watching the tub fill, as pleased as she was fascinated.
“We’ve a large cistern in the east wing,” Fiona explained as she moved around the room, laying out towels. “Fires heat the water as it runs through the pipes. Not endless, mind ye, but enough for the lady o’ the castle to enjoy a hot bath when she fancies it.”
Maggie blinked again, smiling. “That’s…wonderfully civilized.”
“Don’t let the stone and tartans fool ye. We’re no’ complete savages.”
“Oh! I didn’t mean to imply that you were,” Maggie rushed to say, appalled she’d caused offense.
“Dinna fash. ’Twas a jest. I’m known for that.”
“What’s your name?”
“Fiona.”
Maggie’s brows lifted. “The laird’s brother’s wife is Fiona. Are you—”
“I am one and the same, my lady,” she replied with an easy laugh. “Though Fiona MacPherson feels a bit grander than I’m used to. My family didn’t come from wealth or title.”
“But your current family does. You shouldn’t be waiting on me.”
“Why ever not?” she asked as she picked up the soap box Duncan had left. “There wasn’t time to assign someone, yet, and it’s a hectic time of day.”
She sniffed the rose-carved cake then wordlessly held it up for her approval. When Maggie nodded, she added a few drops of the same scented oil to the bathwater.
“Besides,” Fiona went on, as if there hadn’t been a pause. “You should have the chance to choose your own maid, not have one foisted on you. And it gives us a bit o’ time to talk.” She glanced back at her, suddenly uncertain. “Unless you’d prefer quiet after your journey?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, please stay. I can manage on my own, but…it would be lovely to have someone besides Duncan to talk to. We’ve spent two full days together, and I think we’ve exhausted every possible argument.”
Fiona chuckled. “Aye, well. That’s marriage.”
Maggie slipped behind the screen to remove her gown. “This has been rather overwhelming. New husband. New title. New home. New everything.”
“It’s the same for all women.” Fiona turned her back so Maggie could slip into the water. “But it’s easier when you’ve someone tae ask the quiet questions.”
Once submerged in the blissfully hot water, Maggie let out a sigh of relief. Steam curled around her shoulders as she leaned back, the tension of the journey finally beginning to ease from her bones.
Fiona settled into a chair in the corner, tucking her feet beneath her. “I have some experience tryin’ to find my place in this clan. The MacPherson women will warm to you, but it might take time. They’re wary by nature—Highland hills breed Highland pride. But they respect strength. A sense of humor helps, too. And if you’ve a knack for mending or butter-making, they’ll have you round for black tea and bannocks in no time.”
Maggie smiled faintly. “I’ll brush up on my stitching, then.”
She tilted her head, offering a different tack. “Or just let them see you care. That goes further than perfect seams.”
Maggie was quiet for a moment. “Thank you for your kind advice. I was starting to feel like a guest in my own life.”
Fiona’s expression softened. “Ye canna be a guest here. Ye’re the lady o’ the castle. And soon enough, they’ll see that too.”
