Page 4 of Draped in Plaid
“A little.” He grinned boyishly, making me want to tackle him to the ground and ravish him all over again.
“Shall I get you something to eat?”
Rory shook his head. “Nay, not yet. I should go over the books and see if…” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he exhaled loudly. His serious demeanor returned. Shadows filling his face once more. “See if Tomas left me any notes, logs, or missives.”
I nodded, tears prickling my eyes. “Want me to help?”
He tugged my hand toward his mouth, kissing me. Eyes on me. Eyes filled with love. “Ye’ve been help enough already, my love.”
I brought his hand up to my mouth, returning the kiss. “I’m going to go wash up then, and talk to Cook about a private dinner in our bedchamber. Does that sound all right?”
“Aye.” But he didn’t let go of my hand, instead pulled me close again. “I thank ye, love, for all ye’ve done for me today, yesterday and every day afore that.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I would do it all over again. Not just because it’s my duty as your wife, but because I love you.”
Rory chuckled. “We both know how ye feel about duties.”
I smiled. “As long as you understand I’ll never be a simpering wife following behind. I respect your time, Rory, I respect you.”
“I know, my love.”
I kissed him once more and then headed up to our chamber, eager to sink into a hot bath and then maybe even sneak in a nap. I’d hardly slept in the days since we’d left Gealach. Sleeping on a hard ground with a dozen soldiers snoring all around you was tough.
When I entered my room, an elderly woman stood by the bath. “Och, ye’ve come up. I was just finishing up for ye, my lady.”
I didn’t recognize her. She had a gray bun swept up on top of her head and wore a brown shift with a swath of our plaid over her waist. “Are you new here?”
“Aye. Just come the week before.” Shaking her head with sadness, she looked toward the ground. “I’m so sorry for the loss of your steward and the others. What madness it was. We were all so scared.”
Something about the woman made me uneasy. I didn’t feel comfortable talking with her, even about this situation so fresh in both our minds. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that. I’m grateful you decided to stay on. We all are. Thank you for the bath. That will be all.”
The older woman came closer, smelling faintly of herbs. “Allow me to help ye undress.”
Her gnarled fingers shot forward before I could respond grabbing onto the ties of my gown. I gently pushed them away.
“I’m fine. You’ll find me a bit different than most ladies. I don’t need help undressing. I’ll call for you when I finish.” I tried to keep my voice calm and kind, though she was giving me the creeps.
“I’m sorry, lass, but I must insist.” The maid’s eyes grew darker, angrier.
Something wasn’t right.
“What?” I asked, taking a step back.
The old crone pulled something from a pocket in her gown. Black. A box…
Before I could move, she swung at me, hitting me in the side of the head. I fell to the floor, looking up at her with dazed eyes. Pain shooting from temple to temple. Then she jabbed me with a needle, sending a jolt of current within my body. The herbal scent grew stronger. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Who was this? I wracked my brain trying to figure it out and the only person that kept popping into my mind was: the infamous Mrs. MacDonald.
I must have spoken allowed for she nodded, then touched the pendant at my neck. The one my birth mother had given to me. A golden circle to represent the crown with a lion etched on top of it to show the joined houses of Scotland and England
“So the story is true,” she rasped. “The Ayreshire girls were the legitimate heirs to the Scottish throne through their father King David II of Scotland, son of Robert the Bruce. Their birth was never recorded as their father was imprisoned in England at the time they were conceived. The queen was allowed to visit him a few times, and,” she chuckled, “of course one thing led to another and ye were born. Your blood could have united the countries, could have stopped decades, nay hundreds of years, worth of wars. But,” she tsked, “your mother was a coward, fearing for your life since your father was a prisoner of the English king.”
I’d heard all this before, and I didn’t want to hear it again. I tried to shake my head, but I couldn’t move. Whatever she’d jabbed me with was paralyzing. I started to panic, my mind racing. Screaming.
My vision went in and out as she spoke. I wanted to concentrate on what she was saying, if only to remain conscious, but I could feel the world ebbing away and whatever concentration I had was overtaken by my terror.
“Oh, saints, but what I wouldna give to see what that scheming King Edward would have done had he known King David had children. He would have seen ye killed to keep his crown. So how is it that ye ended up here? Do ye know?”
I didn’t answer her, though I knew the truth. My mother had somehow gotten my twin sister, Shona, and myself from the time of our birth to the modern era, where Mr. McAlister had been contacted. He’d been our guardian there. Kept us from harm.
“Well, no matter. We’re going to play a fun game. Ye see, I’m taking ye back to the beginning.” Mrs. MacDonald grabbed my hand and patted my cheek. “Sleep well, princess.”
