Mary wanted to linger but she knew she did not have the liberty. So, after enjoying a few moments of bliss, she washed from her head to her toes, washing her hair twice and sagged back to enjoy the last warmth. Reluctantly, she got up and dried off, tugged Rinalda’s old dress on and twisted her hair into a braid.
She left to see the woman, who she dared to term her friend, waiting. Smiling with the lovely feeling of being clean. “All is well?”
Nodding, Mary followed her out of the room and right into the outdoors. As the sun’s rays hit her, she spun to look behind her. The infirmary was a single building where it could be easily accessed by anyone. There were no cumbersome stairs to take.
Smart, the time it takes to climb stairs would allow an injured person to die.
“The Laird is handsome, isnae he?” Rinalda said and Mary tripped over her feet at the off-tangent question. Her heart was in her throat and her skin was burning. She did not need to look in a mirror to know that her face was scarlet.
She nearly choked out a frantic exclamation but bit her lip just in time. Her eyes were down and her mind was in a frenzy. Rinalda had seen it! She did not dare look up until her companion laughed.
“Ye dinnae have to be ashamed, Mary, we all ken it. He is a handsome man, just like his faither is,” Rinalda said as she guided Mary down the gentle slope and toward another building.
The mention of Leith’s father had her sobering. She had not seen the man, but then again, she had not seen much of anyone really except his mother, the other two women, and Rinalda.
She was taken to another building, a low one, with the same set up as the infirmary. Beds were lined up on the wall, some only having sheets on and others having footlockers at their sides. “This is the women servants’ quarters,” Rinalda said as they passed a window. “Over yonder is the one for the men. There are cottages for married servants too but they are in the castle.” At the very end of the line, she gestured to a bed, “That’s yers and this is mine.”
“Settle in for supper,” Rinalda advised. “We have our own living halls and washing rooms. Better than most clans who let their servants live in the stews.” A hand was rested on her shoulder, “Ye’ll be able to live here in peace, I promise ye.”
* * *
She had been placed in the castle for three days now and her station was in the kitchen as a scullery maid. Rinalda had been her strength in those days, scrounging up more dresses for her and taking her over like a baby bird under a mother hen’s wing.
With her hands still in the sudsy water, Mary used her shoulder to wipe some sweat off her brow. She had not seen Leith in three days but knew it was for the best. Her work was strenuous but not unbearable. She had made a few acquaintances but felt it best to not ingratiate herself too much. Rinalda was the only friend she would need.
Twice she had run into a man with a full head of silver hair and had blue eyes that had all the warm comfort of ice when he looked at her. She did not have to have the prophetic abilities of Jeremiah, but she knew that man hated her, but for what exactly, she had no clue.
Most of the other servants were kind to her when they heard she was mute and were ready to help her by pointing out a way she should go or bringing her supper when she was not willing to eat in the servants’ hall. There was, however, one washing-woman, who on Mary’s best days, did not even acknowledge her but on her worst, passed by with a dirty, scornful look. As if she was looking at a bucket of muck.
“Her name is Fiona,” Rinalda said one morning. “She doesnae like outsiders and has more desires than what is good for her.”
Mary had never gotten an explanation of those cryptic words but she did think she needed them. She was wondering when she would ever see Leith again when a hush ran through the kitchens. Her lips pursed, and she blew a strand of hair from her face when the servants around her parted like the parting of the Red Sea. Looking up she spotted Leith coming through. He was nodding and speaking to those who he met but he had his eyes on her.
Every muscle in her body tensed when he finally made his way to her. Reaching for a rag he held it out to her, “Mary, lass, dry yer hands, I’d like to speak to ye for a moment.”
As she dried her hands, she could feel looks digging into her skin…especially Fiona’s. She wanted to tell Leith that this was not the best way but she did not dare. With her hands dry, she followed him out, trying her best to not cringe under the looks.
14
Three nights and four days of hell.
Leith had faced many worries in the past three days which had stalled him from seeing Mary. His father had swung from one end of the mental stability rope to the other, being calm at one moment then becoming an untamable beast at the other. Leith had been forced to have his guards hold him down and have the women force a strong infusion of mandragora down his throat.
His mother looked on with pure grief and heartbreak from the doorway. He had not wanted her to see it but his mother didn’t seem to be able to tear herself away from the man she loved. He had feared his mother breaking down at the sight of her husband thrashing on the bed and foaming at the mouth with pure insanity in his eyes but she had not. He, however, had slept with those images in his mind for two nights on end.
Between waking from before dawn and running around the clan and making sure the people were set, he had not taken any time for himself. This night, however, he was going to. He needed to find Mary. He needed to hold her, to press his wearied head on her cheek and just have her near him. The craving had nearly overtaken him during supper to the point he had to excuse himself at the tail-end of the meal.
Now, that he had her, he led her upwards, to the old rookery in the castle. It was the only place close enough and solitary enough to give them privacy. There were clean rushes on the floor and the high tower with its wide stone windows gave them a wide vista of the land beyond, from the town below to the rocky bases of the mountains up to their misty peaks.
He braced his back on the wall and tugged her into his arms. Instantly, her arms went around his neck and he tugged her hair tie off and buried his fingers in the silken softness of her long, unbound, silken hair. Her tresses were thick and smelled of rosemary.
The warmth of her body warmed him, and after he had fitted her into his arms, he kissed her. He pressed his lips firmly over hers, loving the feel of her shiver. Softly, he coaxed her tongue into dancing with his and ran his hand up from her back to the back of her neck.
Tilting her head to the left he parted from her lips and began to kiss down her neck. Biting at her pulse point he stopped himself from suckling a red, possessive mark in her skin. She would never be able to explain that.
Pulling away from the addictive scent of her skin, he nuzzled under her ear. Mary’s voice was shuddery and a bit hoarse, mayhap from not talking for four days or from her arousal. Possibly both. “I understood that you had to stay away from me but for a few days, like two, but when it hit four, I had begun to think you had forgotten about me.”
“Never,” he said on her skin before looking her in her eyes. “Never, lass, I’d never forget about ye. It’s just…my Faither, the clan and me Mother. I hardly sleep, I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off and…and I am getting afraid lass. I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”
He could see in her eyes that she was surprised at his admission. How many men would admit to that fear? Hiding it was something he was used to. Many saw him as the warrior he was, battle-scarred and intimidating, but rarely did they look beyond his appearance.
“Yer surprised to hear me say that, arenae ye?”
“I am,” she said quietly. “Not many men would admit that, I believe.”
He smoothed a thumb over her eyebrow, “Lass, I dinnea want to admit this but I will be absent for a while. Its naything to do with ye but it's me. I cannea let anyone see us together too frequently as the word might get out and ye face even more ostracization than ever before. They’ll see ye as a whore.”
/> Mary pulled away at his words. “That’s…is how they will see me?”
“And for some, it will be even worse if they find out yer English,” Leith added.
She heaved a sigh as she stared at the cracked open door, “Leith…I’ve never been in this…condition. I don’t know what it is to be with someone. I know that we have to be careful but…I don’t know what this is.”
Now, he was taken aback, “What do ye mean?”
Mary looked tortured, “I want to know what are you looking for from me. I do know that when you touch me, I feel giddy, but a part of me sours it…when it gets too good, it feels almost unnatural. My parents never touched each other in front of me, they never held each other, they never kissed. I’m afraid that you are going to want something from me that I don’t know how to give.”
God no! I cannot be losing her so quickly! Mary was definitely pulling away, and he felt both too tired for this and deeply frustrated. But as he opened his mouth to say something, he realized the words on tip of his tongue were not right. Mary was not like any other woman he knew and did not need to be treated like one.
He reached out for her and though wary, she allowed him to touch her. “Would ye like me to teach ye?”
Shock pained her face and her eyes were shifting, “Is that possible?”
“To teach ye to let those emotions ye have come forth?” He asked rather rhetorically, as his thumb dropped to trace her lips, “Aye, it is.”
Her lips were so soft, so plump and red that they beckoned to be kissed, but he held off. “Will ye let me teach ye?”
“I would,” she said hesitantly. “But I fear that I’ll be…a shadow of those who’ve you’ve been with.” He was about to say something when she shook her head, “You don’t need to justify anything to me. You already told me you were with women, and no one could blame you for it. You said the same to me in the Robasdan garden, remember?”
Chuckling, Leith nodded. “I remember.”
“I’m still afraid that I’ll be a shadow of those who you were with,” Mary asked, her tone dripping with insecurity.
“I’ll never compare ye to anyone,” Leith replied. “Yer a breath of fresh air, lass.” He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. He then devoured her mouth with a kiss of deep possession. There was no hesitancy when he took her mouth as he needed her to feel his seriousness. He swept his tongue inside her warm mouth, tasting her sweetness and swallowing her tiny moans with relish.
Her fingers were in his hair and her breasts were pressed on his chest. As he held her there, he could feel her nipples begin to pebble through the thin cloth of her dress. The temptation to have her was deep, to drop his hands and rub those buds into tight peaks was clawing at his gut but he was not going to heed to the lure. He had to have her learn her own body before he introduced her to his.
“Ye are mine to take care of, lass,” Leith said. “I promise ye that I will follow through. Let me take ye back to yer station and I’ll come for ye as soon as I can.”
He held in his grin when she could not answer him for breathlessness. She nodded while catching her breath. With his hands on the small of her back, he took her back down the rookery’s stairs and into the cold outside. She needed to lose that flush on her cheeks and the kiss-red hue of lips or their secret would be open. Taking her to the garden he sat her on a bench.
“Take deep breaths, lass,” he advised. “Many might ignore ye but a few would see that flush on yer skin and ken why.”
She pressed her hand to her cheek and softly exclaimed, “Oh dear.”
“Shhh,” he cautioned, “we dinnae want anyone to hear ye.”
The night was chilled but not as cold as it could be in the spring. The sky was clear with nary a cloud obscuring the bright stars or the moon. Night critters were humming a small sonata around them and hoots of the owls were giving it an accompanying harmony.
Mary kept feeling her face and he saw her tapping her lips once or twice. She then sighed and stood with him mirroring her. “Ready?”
It was dim but he saw her nod and pleased he led her back to the kitchen. As they came to the entrance, Rinalda came out, looking worried. When she saw him with Mary her expression changed to relief.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said, “I was told Mister Balloch took ye out but I dinnae ken if he would take ye back.”
Leith looked amused, “Ye ken so little of me, Rinalda?”
“When it comes to Mary, I think little of anyone,” she said matter-of-factly while looking over to her. “It’s all right Mary, ye dinnae have to go back in, yer shift is done for the night.”
Leith wanted to reach out and take her back into his arms but knew he could not. He had to let her go. At least something had been cleared up between them that night. He now knew her fears and what pace he needed to take with her. Rushing her into anything like he had done before would only hurt her but what worried him was if was able to dial back his passion for her.
Dipping his head, he bowed to them but saw Mary pass a look between him and Rinalda. But before he could address it, Rinalda whisked Mary away. He groaned under his breath. Why could he not get a break after solving one problem before another popped up?
He went back to the great hall with some grimness lingering along his spirit when a loud voice he had not heard in months boomed through the air. “Hellfire and damnation, where is the bluidy Balloch?”
Nearly doubling over with laughter, Leith walked in to see the giant mountain-of-a-man called Balfour McColloch, the older brother of Dugald Balfour, who had his broad back turned to him. The man had the finely burly body of a Norse god, the strength of a Viking, the crassness of a fisherman and yet the kindness of a saint. The last time he had heard from Balfour, it had been by a letter telling Leith about his newest conquest on an island in the North Sea.
“Still nay regard for titles eh!” he called, “Calm ye before ye send me people into apoplexies, McColloch.”
Spinning, Balfour’s broad face split in half with his grin. His plaited beard and eye-patch had earned him the nickname Odin many years ago and he carried the look well. With his broad chest covered in bear fur and the massive double-handed sword strapped to his back, the man was a picture of past warriors.
Hauling Leith into a one-armed hug Balfour grinned, “Does yer ale still taste like a piss-pot?”
“It probably does but ye still drink half a barrel when ye show up,” Leith snorted. “Come to me office, McColloch, this room is not big enough to hold yer personality.”
“And yer tiny room is?” Balfour snorted while he pushed Leith forward. Leith could feel that there was something else heralding the sudden appearance of his friend. They got to his father’s old room and he held in his grin when Balfour kissed the blade of his father’s sword.
“Yer still nae going to receive his strength,” Leith teased. “I dinnae ken why ye believe that tripe anyway.”
“It’ll work one day,” the man said as he unlatched his sword from his back and tried to settle his body into the biggest seat in the room. His deep blue eyes then made four with Leith. Stroking his plaited beard, Balfour sighed. “I’m nae going to lie to ye, Leith. I came because I heard about yer Faither.”
Leith dipped his head and blew out a sigh of frustration before he trained his eyes on his father’s sword. “I could guess that was it.”
Leaning forward, Balfour laid his hairy forearms on the table and looked deep at him. “What happened Leith? How come all of a sudden?”
Not wanting to dig up his worries, Leith asked, “Dinnae ye want to see Dugald first?”
“Me scrawny brother can wait,” Balfour huffed, “Tell me what happened.”
Regrettably, Leith told him the sad tale starting six months ago and how his father’s slow slope into madness began. “Now he just has two emotions, suspicious and enraged. He swings from one to the other like the swaying of a branch. Robasdan has pledged to help but mind-healers are so few and far between.
”
“That’s hard to stomach, Balloch,” Balfour grimaced. “Are ye sure that’s all there is to it?”
Cocking his head to the side, Leith asked, “What more can there be to it?”
Wide, fur-clad shoulders shrugged, “He’s nae drinking good ale?”
The attempt at humor fell flat, and Leith felt even worse for it. He massaged his burning eyes. “I ken what yer trying to do, McColloch, but is nae working. It’d take a miracle for me to find anything well in this situation, but I can assure ye, his food is all right.”
“I dinnae ken what to tell ye,” Balfour sighed. “All I can offer ye is me help if ye need it.” he then squinted. “When was the last time ye had a woman?”
His mind ran back to Mary and the tender hope for him to take care of her resting in her eyes. “Nae recently, McColloch but before ye get on yer salvation horse, I dinnae need one now.”
Mesmerized By A Roguish Highlander (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 12
