Meadowbank was an impressive sight. Three stories in height, it had a massive curtain wall built from the pale sandstone so common to the area, stone that would eventually turn black with age and the elements.
Not strangely, Bane’s walking had become steadier as they made their way back to the house, but he let Lucia hold on to him because she was convinced that she was being of some service. More than that, he let her hold on to him simply because he liked it. He couldn’t remember when last he had a pretty girl on his arm.
If Lucia knew who, and what, he really was, he was quite certain she wouldn’t be holding him so tightly. It was a fantasy world Bane was living in at the moment, one he hadn’t realized he needed until Lucia took his arm. He’d been her hero and she was treating him like one.
God, it felt good.
Lucia took him around to the rear of Meadowbank where a postern gate led them into a vast stable yard. Hit by the smell of animals, Bane allowed Lucia to pull him through the yard until they came to the rear where a few tiny outbuildings lined the wall. Lucia shoved open the last door in the row, kicking it because it stuck.
She let go of Bane’s arm.
“There,” she said. “Ye can use this cottage. I know it’s not much, but ye can rest here until yer head is better. Go in and sit down, and I will return as quickly as I can.”
Bane looked at the tiny chamber, which was much better than the accommodations he had now. In fact, he began to see an opportunity—a lady with some guilt, an empty room, and he would have a better roof over his head. Putting his hand to his temple, he pretended to be weakened still.
“Thank ye,” he said. “Yer kindness is greatly appreciated.”
Lucia helped him in because he seemed to be staggering again. Bane lowered himself into a corner of the cluttered cottage as Lucia began to grab the implements lining the walls, like pitchforks and shovels.
“I’ll remove these so ye willna have tae keep company with farm tools,” she said. “Sit quietly, now. I’ll return.”
Bane had no intention of doing anything other than sitting quietly. Something else might see him get thrown out on his ear, and this was too good a situation to pass up. When Lucia departed, dragging the shovels and rakes with her, Bane leaned back against the wall and thought he might actually have found a better situation for himself. He was a hard worker, so he could offer his strength at the manor. He was sure they could use a strong hand.
And he would be where Lucia was.
A foolish thought, but one he couldn’t shake. He didn’t know what it was about the woman that attracted him so, but he wasn’t beyond finding out.
Hearing that fight in the alley this morning was quite fortuitous.
Perhaps things were finally starting to look up.
* * *
He was handsome.
Lucia had noticed that from the outset. It was difficult to tell beneath all of that grime and hair, but once she got a good look at his face, she could see just how handsome he was. And young; he wasn’t old at all. Well, relatively old. At ten or more years than her twenty and one.
He was a man in his prime.
But he was also living on the streets, and in addition to the smell of piss from the pot she’d slung at him, she thought she could smell ale. After the chaos of the sausages had died down and she realized he was injured, she still couldn’t explain what made her go back to see how badly he was hurt. Perhaps it was the fact that something in his eyes conveyed utter defeat.
He was a man who had given up.
Perhaps that was why she’d insisted he come back with her to Meadowbank. All she knew was that something in his eyes had pulled at her, something that captured her curiosity and natural empathy. Certainly, she’d seen her share of the destitute in Edinburgh. But what made this man different, she didn’t know.
Something…
But first, he needed a bath and food. That was the least she could do for him, considering his attempted act of valor during the sausage disaster. But she didn’t want her mistress to know she’d brought a man back to the manor, so she went to the stable master and explained the situation.
The stable master, being a very old man with a kind disposition, assured her that he would help the man. In little time, a big copper pot, clean straw, and blankets were heading to that tiny storage cottage. Everything needed for a bath was being brought in, and Lucia confiscated soap from the laundress along with clean drying linens. A trip to the kitchens had her carrying a basket filled with bread, cheese, and several apples. With all of it balanced in her hands, she headed back to the cottage.
By the time she reached the rear of the stable yard, the sky had clouded over and it was starting to rain. Fat droplets pelted the ground as she stood at the cottage door while the servants with the hot water buckets finished filling the old copper tub. Once they vacated, she entered the cottage and shut the door behind her.
“Here,” she said as she turned around. “I’ve brought ye…”
Her words were cut off as she found herself looking at the rear view of a naked man. His filthy clothes were in a pile at his feet, and he was standing next to the tub. Startled, she tried to turn around quickly to block her view of the man’s nude arse, but she ended up dumping the soap and the linens, barely saving the food in the basket. She heard a laugh behind her.
“Ye sent me a bath, lass,” he said. “Am I not supposed tae use it?”
Lucia could hear water sloshing behind her as he climbed into the tub. “Of course ye are,” she said, feeling her cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Ye should have told me… That is, I could have waited outside while ye removed yer clothing.”
“I suppose it dinna occur tae me,” he said. “It doesna matter now, anyway. Ye can turn around. My modesty is protected.”
Timidly, she turned around to see that he was, indeed, sitting in the copper tub. She could see him from the waist up, which in truth wasn’t a better view than his naked buttocks had been. She should have been permanently traumatized by that sight but, somehow, she wasn’t.
It had been unexpectedly tantalizing.
Setting the basket of food down on the ground, she went to collect the linens and soap that she’d dumped. She extended the soap to him and he reached out, taking it from her.
“Do I smell that bad?” he asked.
“Bad enough that ye’ll start attracting flies if ye dunna wash up.”
He grinned, splashing water over his head and upper body, going to work with a soap that smelled of mint and rosemary. It was hard soap, rare in these times, and produced a good deal of white, slick residue. He scrubbed his head and face with it vigorously.
“What kind of soap is this?” he asked, foam all over his face.
“Savon d’Alep,” she replied. “Soap from the Levant. Have ye not heard of it? Lady Currie has it sent all the way from Rome. Everyone here uses it because she says she canna stand the smell of anything else.”
Satisfied, he continued to scrub, smelling at the frothy bar. “Nay, I’ve not heard of it.”
“How does yer head feel?”
He splashed water all over his face and hair, rinsing out the soapy residue. “Better,” he said. “It was kind of ye tae bring me here. Ye dinna have tae.”
“I know,” she said, watching him splash. “But as I said, ’twas my fault ye couldna walk. I had tae make amends.”
“Ye have a big heart, lass.”
Lucia watched him use the soap on his arms, hands, and chest. Thoughts of the glimpse of his naked buttocks filled her mind again but instead of chasing them away, she lingered on them. Muscular buttocks that had been smooth and white, something that made her feel the least bit heated to recall. She had to lick her lips to moisten them because thoughts of the man’s nude form dried out her mouth as she sucked in air. She found herself standing back by the door because it was safer tha
t way.
Safer for whom?
Lucia had to ask herself that question. In truth, as she watched him, she could see the diamond emerging from all of that filth. The man had enormous shoulders and arms, muscular and beautiful, and beneath that growth of hair on his face, she could imagine that he was truly handsome. He had a square jaw and a profile that looked like it came from one of those Greek gods on the vases that Lady Currie had on display.
Why had she brought him back here? Was it really because she felt guilty?
Or was it something else?
“Ye never did tell me yer name,” she said after a moment. “Ye already know mine.”
“My name is Bane.”
“Where do ye come from, Bane?”
He was busy splashing and washing. “The Highlands.”
“Then why are ye in Edinburgh? Ye said ye had no home.”
He didn’t answer her for a moment. He continued scrubbing his body, now with a big leg on the side of the tub. “I dunna,” he said. “Not here in Edinburgh, anyway.”
Lucia watched that big leg as he washed it. “Then ye came tae Edinburgh tae do nothing but live in alleys and save women from sausage thieves?”
He smiled weakly. “I suppose I came here for the same reason most men do,” he said. “Tae find an opportunity.”
“What kind of work do ye do?”
He put his leg back in the tub. “I can do most anything,” he said. “I can read and write. I’m not a blacksmith, but I can shoe a horse. I can build a wall or a cottage.”
Those few words told Lucia he was more than just another drunk in an alley. “Then ye’ve been educated.”
“Aye.”
“Who’s yer clan?”
“Morgan.”
“Ah,” she said. “They’re a warring bunch, I hear. Can ye fight, then?”
The question caused him to avert his gaze. “I was the best warrior in my clan,” he muttered. “But that’s over now.”
There was something in his voice as he said it, something that had her interest. It wasn’t exactly rage or anger, but something… dark. Sadness, perhaps?
Or regret?
The mystery about the man was growing.
“So ye’ve come tae Edinburgh tae seek yer fortune, then?” she asked.
He shook his head and started in on the other leg with the soap. “Nay,” he said. “Not my fortune. And ye’ve asked enough questions about me. I want tae hear about ye. How long have ye served here?”
Now that the focus was on her, Lucia didn’t like it very much. She wasn’t finished interrogating him, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about herself. Standing up, she went to the pile of filthy, torn rags that he’d been wearing and gingerly held up the tunic he’d had on.
“These clothes are nothing more than rags,” she said, ignoring his question. She quickly picked up the breeches he’d been wearing, peering at those as well. “I’m surprised they covered anything at all. How did ye expect tae survive the winter in these things? Finish cleaning yerself and I’ll return.”
With that, she bolted out of the cottage before he could say another word, rather pleased that she’d avoided his question. It would probably come up again, and when it did, she’d have to face it. But not now. Not when she was so busy trying to figure out why she wanted to see his naked buttocks again.
“Lucia!”
Someone was calling her name. Lucia turned to see one of the servant lads who worked in the house, a boy who spent his days scrubbing floors from morning to night. His name was Tynan, the son of one of Lady Currie’s servants. The lad had hair like straw—blond and standing up on end, and he had a perpetually sunny smile on his face. He ran toward her across the yard.
“M’lady is asking for ye,” he said. “She is demanding her breakfast!”
The sausages. Lucia’s heart sank. She knew she was in for a good deal of trouble. She’d been so preoccupied with Bane that she hadn’t even let anyone in the house know she’d returned yet. Somehow, tending Bane had seemed more important, but now…
Now she had to face it.
“Here,” she said, handing Tynan the ruins of Bane’s clothing. “Burn these. And go find Old Roy and tell him ye need clothing for a man his size. A tunic and breeches. When he gives them tae ye, take them tae the stable yard. There is a man in one of the cottages who needs them. Hurry, now.”
Tynan looked at her in confusion, but not before he got a whiff of the clothing and held it away from him.
“Och!” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Where did ye get these?”
“From a man who helped me,” she said, her thoughts lingering on Bane when she should very well have been thinking of the punishment she was about to face for her dereliction of duty. “Go, now. Find clothing for him.”
Tynan nodded, darting off on his long, skinny legs. Lucia watched him go before squaring her shoulders and heading into the house.
She had some explaining to do.
Chapter Three
Lucia.
Bane was sitting in the remains of the cooling bathwater, thinking on the chestnut-haired lass who had provided him his first real bath in months.
Loo-cee-uh…
A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. He thought it was rather fortuitous that she’d asked him what talents he had. He had many, and hopefully one of them would fill a need at Meadowbank. If he could simply stay in this cottage, he would be willing to work hard for it. He wasn’t lazy by any means, but depression had a way of destroying a man’s motivation.
Somehow, Lucia had turned that around.
Therefore, he sat in the bathwater and waited for her to return. But time passed and the bathwater grew downright cold before he forced himself to climb out and wrap up in the drying linens she’d brought. An old man had brought him dry straw and blankets, and he managed to fashion an acceptable bed out of them. Much better than the bed he had in that stuffy loft.
Clean for the first time in months, he sat down on his straw bed and wolfed down the bread and cheese. He was chowing down on the apples when the door opened, producing a skinny lad with matted hair.
He looked at Bane with a great deal of uncertainty.
“Are ye…?” He stopped, swallowed, and started again. “Are these clothes for ye?”
Bane could only guess that they were, considering he had nothing to wear. “Lucia took my clothing,” he said. “Where is she?”
The boy timidly entered. “She’s with m’lady,” he said. “She told me tae bring ye these.”
He extended the wad of clothing and Bane took it. Curious, he held up the tunic. It was made for a large man and was perhaps a bit roomy for him, but he didn’t care. It was in good condition, as were the breeches.
“Thank ye,” he said. “Who do these belong tae?”
The child threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Old Roy,” he said. “He’s the smithy. He also pulls teeth if ye have a toothache. Do ye have a toothache?”
Bane shook his head, grinning. But the lad continued to stand, an intensely curious expression on his face. He couldn’t have been more than eight or ten years old, and already Bane could see that his hands were chapped and callused from hard work.
He was a child who was used for labor.
“What’s yer name, lad?” he asked.
“Tynan.”
“Where’s yer mam?”
The boy pointed toward the manse. “She’s a servant tae m’lady,” he said. “She brushes m’lady’s hair and cleans her chamber.”
“I see,” Bane said. “And what do ye do?”
“I wash,” Tynan said, making scrubbing motions. “I wash the floors and stone. Sometimes I even wash the horses.”
“Oh.”
“What’s yer name?”
“Bane,” he said. It seemed to him that the lad was a b
it chatty, and realizing that, he thought he might be able to find out a little more about Lucia from the boy. “Ye said yer mam works for m’lady?”
“Aye.”
“M’lady is Lady Currie?”
“Aye.”
“She has a lot of servants.”
The boy nodded firmly. “My mam and others,” he said. “Even Lucia.”
That was the exact subject Bane wanted to speak on. “Do ye know much of Lucia, then?”
“She and my mam are friends,” he said. “I’ve known Lucia since she came here.”
“When was that?”
The boy scratched his head. “Two winters, I think,” he said. “She came tae Laird Currie after her da died.”
That sounded curious to Bane. “Why would she come tae Laird Currie?”
The boy plopped down on the ground in front of him as if settling in for a nice, long chat. “I heard my mam say it was a debt,” he said. Then he whispered loudly, “Her da owed Laird Currie money and Lucia came tae pay it.”
He said it as if it were a secret, but more than likely a well-known one if a child knew of it. The entire manse probably knew of it. But something now made sense to Bane; when he asked Lucia what her duties were for Lady Currie, she had told him whatever the lady wished. Now he understood that comment.
She was working off her dead father’s debt, any way she could.
Which was rather sad considering the woman’s beauty. She should have been married years ago to a fine husband, but instead she found herself a servant in a wealthy home. It was little wonder that Lucia didn’t want to talk about herself.
No doubt it was a sensitive subject.
“I see,” he said. “Is the debt almost paid now?”
Tynan shrugged. “I dunna know. Lady Currie likes Lucia as a companion. She makes her sit with her for hours.”
“Do ye know where Lucia used tae live?”
“Selkirk. Her family name is Symington. I heard her tell my mam that.”
Highland Defender Page 2