Page 20 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Chapter Five
“My lady?” Asoft tap sounded at the door.
Elle opened her eyes and stretched wide on the bed. Her entire body was stiff from the past days of traveling, the never-ending hours she’d spent worrying and pacing the chamber. Praying, hoping, begging for Beiste to find her brother.
The door opened and Elle watched from the crack in the curtain she’d pulled around the bed (to ward off any nighttime ghostly visitors) as a short, round, middle-aged woman scampered into the room. Her graying red hair was pulled up in a tight knot on top of her head and she wore a white apron over her MacDougall plaid gown.
“My lady?” The woman spoke softly, kindly. “Are ye awake?”
Elle stretched her arms up over her head, wishing she were not. She then pulled the bed curtains open a ways. “Aye.”
The older woman smiled at her. “Good morn. I’m the housekeeper, Mrs. Lach. I’ve brought your morning meal.” She pointed toward the table where a tray of food had been set. “When ye’re done breaking your fast, the master’s ordered a warm bath be drawn for ye.”
Elle blinked. Had she heard correctly? A bath? Most ordinary people, let alone prisoners, were not gifted the luxury of a bath. Or warm water to wash with.
Another kindness he’d shown her. When would they cease? What did Beiste MacDougall hope to gain by his considerations where she was concerned?
Elle sat up and pulled the curtain the rest of the way open, immediately struck by the scents of the meal laid out for her. A hunk of pork, freshly baked bread, and was that milk? ’Twas not the typical breakfast she was used to. Nay. At Castle Gloom, and she presumed everywhere else in the world, breakfast consisted of a bit of bread and watered wine, or sloppy porridge (unless a household was lucky enough to find a cook who considered porridge an art form). But this, this was a veritable feast.
“’Tis a fine set up,” Elle murmured, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her mouth watering.
The lady beamed. “Aye, my laird wanted to be sure ye were pleased and well fed.”
“Why?” Elle couldn’t help but ask, her mind immediately going to a suckling pig being fattened up right before the slaughter.
“Ye’re our guest,” Mrs. Lach said, cocking her head to the side in question. “Come eat now. I’ll have the bath and water brought up.”
“My thanks.” The wooden floor was cold against Elle’s feet. She hurried to the tapestried rug and then climbed onto the chair, sitting cross-legged to keep her feet from touching.
The bread had been slathered with butter and apple jam. She took a bite of it, savoring the warmth and sweetness. Then the pork. Then a big gulp of milk. If Beiste MacDougall wanted to feed her like this, she’d gladly take it. Her belly rumbled for more, but she forced herself to eat slowly, else she become ill. While she dined, several servants filtered in and out with a large wooden tub that they lined with linen. Steaming buckets of hot water andscentedsoap soon followed.
She could smell the sweet herbal scent from where she sat and beamed at the luxury of it. At Castle Gloom, they used soaps made from tallow and ash. Nothing sweet smelling, but it got the job done. When Mrs. Lach sprinkled thyme into the steaming water, Elle had to clamp her lips closed from nearly crying out with joy.
Her exuberance at the bath was almost too much. She forced herself to sit still, to finish her meal, and to figure out just what Beiste MacDougall was up to.
Good food. A bath?
She might have thought he was wooing her, save for the fact that he certainly could not be. Could he?
Nay.
Besides, she wasn’t interested in being wooed. With both of her parents gone, it was her job to raise Erik up to the man he was meant to be. She’d have to run Castle Gloom until he was of age. Attend gatherings of the elders; work with them to keep the clan prospering. The last thing she needed was to worry about a brute like Beiste MacDougall. Aye, she needed him, at present, to help her. But there, all ties ended. She would return home with Erik and rebuild. Fortify.
And perhaps, in ten years’ time, when Erik was able to be a leader without her guiding hand, she could find—
Och, who was she kidding? By that time, she’d be an old maid. A spinster. The elderly sister of the laird. As a lass of twenty-one now, her father had been beginning his search for a husband before Bjork had…
Elle sat back in her chair, swallowing around the lump in her throat. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she blinked them away, not wanting anyone to bear witness to her grief.
Mrs. Lach swept away her empty trencher and cup and, thankfully, ushered her toward the tub. Elle was stripped of her nightrail and climbed into the steaming water, unable to help the small moan that came out.
The bath was glorious, sweeping her sorrow back into the deep cavern in her chest.
What Mrs. Lach and Beiste MacDougall failed to realize was that this was herfirstbath. At Castle Gloom, she washed plenty, using a basin of frigid water in her chamber every morning. Unless it was warm enough, then she made the trek down to the burn with the other ladies and they washed in the thawed, churning waters.
But this…this was heavenly.
The hot water loosened her aching muscles, easing away the tension that had been growing since Bjork first made his appearance.
