Highlander's Ransom (15 page)

Surprisingly, Robert laughed. The sound was deep and
hearty, startling Alwin and causing her to stare up at him. She had never heard
him laugh before. She had to admit, it was quite a pleasant sound. She quickly
averted her eyes and tried to school her mouth from matching the smile that now
lingered on his lips.

“Stella, I have the utmost confidence in your ability
to recover from my idiotic blunder,” he said, his mouth still quirking at the
corners.

Stella, the apparent head of servants, grumbled at his
teasing, but a hint of a smile crept onto her face. Turning abruptly to Alwin,
she said, “And I’m guessing you’d like to freshen up. Follow me, my lady.”

Alwin was whisked away from Robert by Stella’s firm
hand on her wrist. Stella plowed through the crowd and into the keep, winding
this way and that. It was all Alwin could do to keep up, and she was completely
lost in a matter of moments. She followed Stella through several large rooms,
wide hallways, and up one of the tower’s twisting staircases. Suddenly Stella
halted in front of a wide wooden door and, leaning her weight into it, pushed
it inward.

Alwin’s eyes were filled with what she could only
assume was Robert’s chamber. It was large and spacious, and had a distinctly
masculine feel to it. An enormous bed rested against the far wall, and to the
right were an armoire and a desk and chair. To the left, there was a window
covered with both wooden shutters and a heavy fur, and in front of the window
stood a brazier. The room was cool and the air inside was still, but Robert’s
scent lingered. A flood of doubt suddenly filled her.

“I shouldn’t stay here, mistress Stella. This is
Robert’s…I mean, we aren’t—we haven’t—” she stumbled awkwardly over the words,
unsure of how to get out of sharing Robert’s chamber.

“Just Stella, my lady. You are the mistress now. And
the way I see it, you two are married, so this chamber is just as much yours
now as it is his.”

The words stunned Alwin, but she managed a mute nod.
She didn’t know how to explain to the older woman the…unique situation she was
in.

Tactfully ignoring Alwin’s struggle, which she was
sure was playing across her face plainly, Stella said, “I’ll have a fire built
up, my lady, and the lads will bring up the tub and some hot water for a bath.”

Alwin felt such a strong rush of excitement and
gratitude at the thought of a bath that tears sprung to her eyes. “Thank you
Stella, that sounds wonderful.”

Stella turned and whisked out of the room, and Alwin
could hear the older woman delivering orders for a fire and bath as she marched
back down the stairs.

Alwin found herself suddenly alone, and the tears that
had threatened a moment before at Stella’s words overwhelmed her. Stifling a
sob in her hand, she went over to the bed and sank down to sit on its edge.
Loneliness and uncertainty swept over her, and she unexpectedly found herself
missing her old home at her father’s keep, and Betsy’s kind and familiar
friendship.

She quickly wiped her tears away when a soft rap on
the door came. She ushered several servants in, one of whom set about making a
fire in the brazier and creating a little gap in the furs covering the window
to let the smoke out, while three others walked in carrying a large wooden tub.
Even as they positioned the enormous tub, other servants began coming in with
buckets of steaming water. They filled the tub bucket by bucket until the air
seemed to be filled with warm dampness. Stella returned with several soft
looking towels and a bar of soap. She shooed the servants away, who had
completed their tasks and were lingering to steal curious glances at their new
mistress.

“Come, my lady, before the boys’ hard work hauling all
that hot water is wasted,” Stella said matter-of-factly.

Alwin hesitated, then turned her back on Stella to
undress. She had only ever been naked in front of Betsy before. She unwrapped
the plaid and set it on the bed, then unfastened her cloak and began fumbling
with the ties on her dress. When all her garments but her chemise were shed,
she hesitated again, then felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned to find
Stella with an unusually soft look on her face.

“No need to be shy, mistress. I’m just an old lady
who’s seen it all by now,” she said gently.

Alwin blushed and lowered her eyes, but nodded,
grateful for Stella’s tact and compassion. Loosening the strings on her
chemise, she pulled the worn garment over her head and tossed it on the corner
of the bed with the rest of her dirty clothes. She scampered over to the tub
and quickly threw her feet over the edge, sighing at the warmth of the water.
She sank all the way in on another sigh.

“I imagine that you’ve been missing this, judging by
your appearance,” Stella said with a smile. “Now, now, I mean no offence by
that, my lady. I’m just furious with the Laird for not taking better care of
you on your journey.”

Alwin picked up on the woman’s gentle prodding for
information about just how and where Robert had found her, how they come to be
married, and why she was in such a tattered condition upon arrival at Roslin.
She didn’t wish to try to explain, though, so she didn’t take Stella’s bate,
and instead dunked her head underwater.

Letting the subject drop easily, Stella approached
with the bar of soap, and began working a lather into Alwin’s dripping hair.
Soon the smell of lavender filled the chamber, and Alwin could feel all the
aches and tensions from the last week begin to ease away. She dunked her head
again to rinse out the lather, then Stella handed her the bar of soap and Alwin
went about scrubbing away the dirt, and likely a fair bit of skin. The sensation
of being clean was intoxicating, though.

Stella let her dally in the tub for a while longer as
she went around the room straightening things that didn’t need it. When she
reached the pile of Alwin’s filthy clothes on the bed, she scooped them up,
saying, “We’ll have these cleaned for you, mistress. For now, though, you’ll
have to wear some borrowed clothes. The Laird’s late mother wasn’t as tall or
slim as you, but…” Stella trailed off, her brow furrowed as she mentally
catalogued clothes. She dumped Alwin’s garments in a pile in front of the door,
then went to the armoire and pulled out one of Robert’s clean white shirts. She
draped the shirt over the back of the chair, then picked up one of the towels
and returned to the tub.

Alwin stood reluctantly, but she knew that if she
lingered in the bath any longer she was in danger of falling asleep. The fire
was burning cheerfully in the brazier now, filling the room with warmth. As she
dried herself off with the towel, Stella retrieved the shirt and held it out to
her. Although it felt too intimate to put on one of Robert’s shirts, she didn’t
have anything else to wear, and it was better than nothing. As she slipped the
shirt over her head, Robert’s clean, masculine scent surrounded her. She was
becoming very familiar with that scent and, she secretly admitted to herself,
she drew a fair bit of enjoyment from it.

Stifling a yawn, she squeezed as much water from her
long hair as she could as she walked over to the bed again. She longed to
stretch out and let sleep take her, but before she did, a question popped into
her mind. “Stella, does everyone here speak English?”

The older woman paused in her tidying of the soap and
towels and turned to her. “Aye, my lady, just about. There have been so many
invasions and wars fought over this land that we have all learned it.” Alwin
lowered her eyes in embarrassment, but Stella went on. “That’s no burden for
you to carry, my lady. You didn’t bring the wars to us. Besides, these days we
normally only speak in Gaelic for special occasions or traditions. If you hear
people around the castle speaking English, trust that it is no comment on your
presence. And if you hear people speaking Gaelic,” she said, a twinkle coming
into her eye, “then they’re likely talking about you.”

Despite her fatigue and worry, Alwin smiled at that.
Well, she was the mysterious and foreign lady that their Laird had shown up
with unannounced. A little gossip was only natural. She would have to make sure
that they had nothing to use against her. She had become very good at acting
the part of the lady even as she worked to undermine her father’s control over
her all those years under his roof, she thought, the mirth leaving her. She
could do it again.

“I’ll let you rest now, mistress,” Stella said
briskly. She scooped up the pile of clothes in front of the door and eased out,
but left the bath. She would have to twist Robert’s ear about the exhausted and
filthy condition the girl was in, as well as pry some answers out of him about
what he meant by resisting marriage for several years, then returning home
after a two week journey with an English bride no one had ever seen or heard of
before. She could tell by Alwin’s modesty that she was still innocent, which
was another puzzle. Something was afoot, she was sure. She saw the strain in
Alwin’s face and took note of the way the girl stumbled over her words and
appeared frightened to share Robert’s chamber or use his shirt. The girl knew
something, but Stella doubted that she had somehow manipulated or threatened
Robert. More likely, the blockheaded Laird was planning some tactical scheme,
but Stella knew not what. She had also not missed the looks that passed between
Robert and Alwin. Aye, the lass was still a virgin, but something grew between
the two of them.

Stella tried to suppress the joy bubbling up inside
her. They had all hoped so desperately that the Laird would marry and settle
down soon. Many in the clan knew about the covert missions he ran against the
English in the borderlands, and were grateful for his counter-war efforts, but
the clan needed him here to lead them, not off gathering information and
stealing supplies and weapons. Not only was Robert wed now, but Stella
suspected that the union could be a happy one based on the heated looks they
gave each other, and the protective stance Robert took toward Alwin. She
seriously doubted either one comprehended it yet, though. Well, she thought,
she was going to enjoy watching them come to realize it.

Chapter 21

Robert passed Stella on the stairs on his way up to
his chamber. A faint smile touched her lips, and he wondered absently what
could have her looking so mischievous.

“I take it you saw to Alwin?”

“Aye, Laird, she has bathed and is now resting,” she
replied, her eyes twinkling.

He nodded and began trudging up the stairs again, but
she said, “A bath awaits you in your chamber, Laird.”

“Thank you Stella. That sounds wonderful,” he said,
his exhaustion fully hitting him. She curtsied and scurried past him, covering
a chuckle behind her hand. He was too tired to guess at what had her so amused,
so he simply kept walking until he reached his chamber door. He pushed it open
unthinkingly, but froze halfway through the doorway.

Stretched out on his bed was Alwin, asleep.

Asleep and half naked, he realized, swallowing hard.

She looked to have collapsed there, not even managing
to pull a blanket over her bare legs. She wore one of his shirts, which was
quite large on her, but still only covered her to just above her knees. Her
legs were long and slim, and her skin glowed warmly in the light of the fire.
He could see her form through the material of his shirt; she seemed so delicate
and slight, and yet the gentle curve of her hip was incredibly sensual. He
could see her full, firm breasts rising and falling with her steady breathing.
The laces at the neck of the shirt were loose, and the slim column of her
throat was exposed. Her hair, still damp and loose from her bath, splayed out
around her head, soft golden brown in the firelight. Her red, full lips were slightly
parted, and the dark fringe of her lashes lay still against her ivory
cheekbones.

He stood there staring for several minutes, drinking
in the sight of her spread out on his bed. Then he caught a glimpse of the tub,
the water still steaming a little, and realized why Stella had been acting so
mischievous. She had sent Alwin to his chamber to bathe and rest, and had
conveniently neglected to mention it to him, all the while encouraging him to
go to the room and find Alwin. He had returned perhaps an hour ago and already
his head servant was plotting something, he thought ruefully with a shake of
his head.

Well, he wasn’t going to pass up a hot bath, even with
Alwin sleeping right in front of him. She was just as exhausted as he was, and
was unlikely to wake anyway. He began unwinding his plaid from his shoulder,
then undid his belt buckle. He tossed his belt and sporran on the desk chair,
and caught his plaid and kilt in the other, draping them over the chair as
well. He loosened the strings at the neck of his shirt, all the while keeping
his eyes on Alwin’s form to assure himself that she was still asleep. As he
pulled the shirt over his head, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he
would like it if she were to wake at this moment. He could just picture her
rosy lips forming the shape of an O of surprise, and her grey-blue eyes going
wide as she drank in the sight of him naked before her. The thought made his
cock harden even more that it had at seeing her lying on his bed wearing
nothing but his shirt.

He quickly slipped into the tub before he started
letting his eager cock make decisions for him. He could take her if he chose—it
was his husbandly right. But the thought of forcing her turned his stomach. He
had seen enough of that kind of behavior from wave after wave of English
invaders over the course of his lifetime to know the damage, both physically
and mentally, that such actions caused. He would never force himself on her,
but damn if he didn’t find his thoughts continually returning to her. Her lithe
and graceful form, not to mention those delicate curves, seemed to pull his
eyes no matter how far away he was. Her regal face, full lips, and seemingly
depthless eyes drew him in. And her scent, of warmth and roses, was nearly
driving him mad. Thank God they would no longer be sharing a horse all day,
with her body plastered to his, their hips grinding together in rhythm, and her
hair right at nose-level.