Alethia moved the basket containing her bath supplies to the top of the mantel. “Have you given any thought to my offer?”
“What offer would ye be talkin’ about?” Beth’s brow furrowed.
“To use my scented soaps. In exchange, I have a favor to ask.”
“Aye?”
“I need a child’s bed. I’m going to take care of the deaf boy who stays in the great hall.” She could see the battle waging inside Beth. “You do want to be noticed, don’t you?”
“Humph. I’ll return by None. I’ll get what ye ask, and I’ll try the other. Once. If, as ye say, a bath and fine scented soap will gain my lad’s affections…” She shook her head, her eyes full of doubt.
“Oh, I promise it will. Go now. I have things to prepare for the weaver’s son.” She walked with her to the door. “I’ll see you back here at None.” Whenever that is. Alethia went to her trunk to fetch her book of Native American herbology.
For a moment, she was lost as she traced her grandmother’s writing on the inside cover. For every illness known to man, the Creator has provided a cure. Look to nature, my darling Alethia. Love, Gran. Gran had added her own notes on many of the pages, things she’d learned over the span of her life.
She always brought the book with her when she worked the Renaissance fairs. Most of them were held in rural areas, and she liked to get away from the crowds whenever she could. Hiking through fields and woods reminded her of endless summers in the bush country near the Canadian border, hunting, gathering and trapping with her uncles and cousins. She loved identifying medicinal plants used by her people throughout their history.
Alethia’s eyes filled with tears as memories poured through her, and once again the need to find a way home overwhelmed her. Nothing she could do about it right now, though, and someone here needed her help. Giving herself a shake, she looked up cures for dysentery. Wild indigo and barberry, did they grow here? It wouldn’t hurt to throw in some of her dried cranberries. They were known to inhibit bacteria.
The pages were brown, thick and textured. The pictures appeared to be hand drawn with black ink. Her book would pass for the period. Once the boy’s family saw the pictures of the plants she needed, and if they grew here, they’d be able to find them.
She dug through her first-aid kit, taking out a few Imodium A-D tablets, essential for working and eating at fairs week after week. It wouldn’t cure him, but it might control the symptoms until the medicine he needed could be made. Alethia placed her things in a basket. In the meantime, she’d cut the plaid for the child’s kilt and finish the moccasins she’d started for him.
She was punching new holes in a leather belt pulled from a pair of her jeans when her door opened. Two men carried a child-sized pine bed frame into her room and set it in the corner to the left of the hearth. Beth followed with a feather mattress and linens.
“This is perfect.” She ran her hand over the polished headboard. “I wasn’t expecting anything so fine.” She turned to Beth, who fussed at the two men. “Thank you.” She nodded to them as they left. “Beth, where did this come from?”
“From the nursery, and the young lord weren’t too pleased about it neither.”
“Do you mean the castle nursery? Malcolm knows about the bed?”
“Och, aye. I couldna take it without askin’ first, now could I? He awaits ye in the great hall.”
“Malcolm?”
“Aye. I’m to send ye down. He was muttering somethin’ fierce when I left.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Well, let’s go. I have what I need for the weaver’s son.” She picked up her basket and walked to the door. Beth didn’t follow. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I’ll stay here and make the lad’s bed ready. I’ll be there once ye’ve finished having your talk with the young lord.”
“Coward.”
Beth’s laughter followed Alethia down the corridor. Why would he be angry? Straightening her spine, she crossed the great hall to where he stood, an imposing figure with one foot on the hearth and his face set like stone. “You asked to see me?”
He turned to scowl at her. “Did I no’ tell you this morn should you need anything, anything at all, you are to come to me?”
“Yes.” She met his frown with one of her own. “But I didn’t think you meant it in a literal sense.”
He took his foot off the hearth and stepped toward her. “Had you come to me about the wee bed, I would have seen to it.”
“Why?”
“You’re my responsibility.”
“Because you found me by the side of the road? Is that what makes me your responsibility?”
“Nay. ’Tis because I choose to accept you as such.”
“I don’t want to be anyone’s responsibility. I want to earn my keep and take care of myself.”
“Whether you will it or no’, ’tis the way of things, and you’d best make peace with it.”
“Let’s see if I have this straight.” She looked away from him. “I can’t go beyond the curtain wall, I can’t fend for myself or see to my own needs, and you’d prefer it if I’d spend all my time in your mother’s solar. Have I covered everything?”
“Aye.” He looked pleased that she understood him so well.
Her heart dropped to her stomach. “Am I a prisoner here?”
“Nay, I wish only to keep you out of harm’s way.”
Overbearing, controlling alpha male. An ember started a slow burn inside her. “Maybe there’s a vacant cottage nearby the boy and I could move into.”
“You’ll no’ be moving anywhere.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You’ll stay right here.”
“If I’m not a prisoner, why do I have to stay here?”
“Because you’re my…my…” He raked a hand through his hair.
“Responsibility.” Of course. All her anger dissipated. He and his father were responsible for everyone’s well-being, and she was just one more burden for him to carry. The last thing she wanted was to be anyone’s burden. “I’m sorry, Malcolm.” He appeared pleased with her apology, and she almost didn’t have the heart to clear up his misconception.
“I accept your apology, Alethia. Next time you will come to me.”
“What I mean is…” The doors to the great hall were thrown wide, and a half dozen men flanked by Liam and Robley strode into the room.
Malcolm took her by the elbow. “These are the earl of Douglas’s men. The one in the center is his second eldest.”
The man he’d pointed out approached and punched Malcolm in the shoulder before they grasped each other’s forearms briefly.
“Welcome, James, ’tis good to see you again,” Malcolm said.
“Aye, and you. Who is this lovely lass by your side?” James took her hand in his. Bowing, he brushed a kiss across the sensitive skin on the back of her knuckles. “Could she be the treasure you found by the side of the road? Your cousins have spoken of naught else since we boarded the ferry.”
James matched Malcolm in height and was every bit as fit. His frank appraisal made her uncomfortable. Lust radiated from him in waves. She snatched her hand away, feeling like a mouse in a hawk’s supper dish. “I’m sure you misunderstood. I am not his treasure. I’m his responsibility.”
James laughed and looked her over from head to toe. “Och, well, if he does no’ see you for the treasure you are, leave Moigh Hall and come to London with me.”
The precariousness of her situation pressed in on her. Her whole life she’d been surrounded by a loving and protective extended family. Here she had no one, and most considered women on par with their cattle. She inched closer to Malcolm.
Malcolm sensed Alethia’s discomfort. That she stepped closer to him was telling. Whether she realized it or not, he had her trust. That pleased him almost as much as her apology had.
One glance to his cousins brought them to flank her on either side. “Lady Alethia, this is James. James, this is Lady Alethia. She will no�
�� be going anywhere with you.” He flashed James a hard look. “Will we see you and your men in the lists on the morrow?”
James laughed and took a step back. “Aye, at dawn. Come,” he commanded the men behind him. “We have traveled far and wish to refresh ourselves before talking with the earl.” He bowed slightly and led his men toward the stairs, where a servant awaited.
Malcolm turned to Alethia. “Did you sense something that gave you cause to mistrust him?”
“No. He doesn’t mean me any harm. His interest made me uncomfortable, that’s all.”
“Milady.” Beth crossed the great hall. “Would ye be wanting to go see the weaver’s son now?”
“Go.” Malcolm gestured toward the doors. “They live within the curtain wall, and we must see to our guests. Remember well my words. You will come to me should you need anything.”
Alethia had managed to get the Imodium A-D down the boy’s throat, and with Beth’s help, she communicated as best she could with the family. Satisfied that someone would find the plants she needed, she walked with Beth back to the keep. “Do you know where I’d find the deaf boy? He’s always hanging around the keep in the mornings because there’s food out for any who want it, but I don’t know where to find him during the day.”
“Aye. We keep a few horses here on the island. The lad does well with the animals, and the stable master is kind to him. He gives him work to do, so the lad feels useful.”
“Where is the stable?”
“I’ll take ye.”
“Would you get a bath ready for him? Maybe you’d like to take one too,” she asked hopefully. “I’m sure the Douglas men have finished with the bathing room by now.”
“Och, ye think I’ll be takin’ me bath with the lad in the room?”
“There’s a screen we can place between you.” She crooked her arm through Beth’s and smiled. “The garments I’ve made for him are folded on top of the trunk in my chamber, and the basket with my soaps is on the mantel above the hearth. I’ll meet you there.”
Beth left her at the entrance of the stable. Smells of horses, sweet hay, and leather wafted over Alethia. Clean straw carpeted the dirt floor of the stone-and-timber structure. A still kind of peace hung over the place. No wonder the boy liked it here.
The aisle between the stalls led her to a room in the rear where saddles and bridles were stored. A wide window with shutters thrown open faced south to take advantage of the daylight. The child sat on an overturned half-barrel. He worked at rubbing oil into a bridle. An older man tended to a saddle across the room.
“Hello,” she called. “Do you speak English?”
“A bit, milady. Harold be my name.” He lifted his gaze to her. “Would ye be wanting a palfrey?”
“No. I’ve come for the boy.” Every day since she’d first seen him, Alethia had found him in the great hall whenever there was food left out. She was eager to begin teaching him signs, but she’d been hesitant to approach him until all was ready.
She caught his attention and signed a greeting, then held out her hand, a universal gesture. The child looked at the stable master, who nodded his assent. The child brought the bridle over to Harold and then came to her. Putting his hand in hers, he regarded her curiously. She gave him a reassuring smile, thanked the stable master and led him to the keep and his waiting bath.
Beth had everything ready by the time they arrived. Alethia took a seat on the wooden bench and positioned the boy between her knees. He rested a hand on each of her knees, while she checked his hairline behind the ears. As she feared, his matted hair was filled with nits and lice.
She’d taken off her gown and bound her own hair, covering it with a makeshift bandana. After his bath, she’d have Beth prepare one for her. She didn’t want to come away with any tiny hitchhikers herself.
She took the scissors from her basket and cut his hair close to his scalp, careful not to nick him. Once done, she gave his shoulders a squeeze and pointed to the tub filled for him. His eyes grew large with alarm. “Before you bathe, could you please do something with this hair, Beth? It’s full of lice.”
Without a word, Beth scooped up the pile and threw it into the fire under the cauldron heating the water. A bitter, acrid stench filled the room.
“I could’ve done that.” Alethia crossed the room and opened the shutter covering the single window.
“Aye, milady. Ye could have.”
Alethia laughed at her sullen tone. “Let me bathe him first. I’ll help you wash your hair once I’ve finished with the boy.” She led the child to the bath and helped him in.
“I dinna mind waitin’.”
“You sound like you’re going to your death. It’s only a bath.”
“Humph.”
Still laughing, she took up a scrap of linen and the soap. “Do you know his name?”
“Nay. I dinna know if anyone remembers, no’ even the lad himself. He was still a bairn when he lost his hearing, and just beginning to talk, as I recall. Name him as you will, milady. ’Tis fitting he should have a new name along with his new life.”
“How old is he?”
“Och, five, mayhap. I’m no’ certain.”
“I’ve been giving it some thought.” She smiled into his eyes. He studied her face intently as she washed his scalp and scrubbed his face, neck and behind his ears. “I think I’ll call him Hunter after my grandfather on my mother’s side. It’s a name that has been handed down from my mother’s side of the family for as far back as anyone can remember.”
“Hunter it is. ’Tis a good strong name, and one he’ll grow into with time.”
Alethia took a wooden bowl and rinsed his scalp, then touched his chest and signed his name to him. He watched, his features full of curiosity. He was smart as a whip and took everything in through those large gray eyes of his.
After scrubbing every inch of Hunter’s skinny body, she lifted him out and stood him before the wooden bench to rub him dry. Pleased with her efforts, she slipped the altered peasant shirt over his head and tied the laces. He fingered the fabric. “I don’t know how to do the wool. You’ll have to teach me.”
Beth pleated and wrapped the new wool around his body, fastening it with the belt Alethia handed her. They both stood back to admire their handiwork. Hunter felt the wool between his fingers. He looked up and gave them a heart-stopping grin.
How different he looked without the layers of grime. He had the face of an angel, and dimples appeared on each cheek when he smiled. His hair, what was left of it, was a soft golden brown. He’d break a few hearts for sure when he grew up. She sat him on the bench and signed for him to stay there.
“Your turn.” She grinned at Beth.
Behind the screen that separated the two tubs, Beth faced her demons. Undressing with more complaints, she sank down into the water with a curse or two in Gaelic. Alethia set to work on her second charge. “Would you make sure someone replaces the water and stokes the fire? I’ll want my own bath later this afternoon.”
“Aye, milady. There are lads whose job it is to see it done.”
Once they were in her room, Alethia led Hunter to the pine bed and signed that this was his place to sleep.
His eyes went large as he looked from the bed to her and back again. He pointed to himself and then placed a hand on the wooden frame.
She nodded and watched him examine it with a look of awe. He explored the rest of the room, picking up baskets and touching the gown that hung from its peg on the wall.
Alethia fetched the moccasins she’d made for him and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He scrambled up to sit next to her on the bed. She signed that he was now in her care, though she knew he wouldn’t yet have any idea what she was telling him. She slipped the moccasins onto his feet and watched with pleasure as he admired his new footwear.
She was curious to see if she could sense what Hunter was feeling. Her abilities seemed amplified in this place and time. Maybe it was due to the lack of technology, or m
aybe it had something to do with the untapped depths Giselle had mentioned. Whatever it was, lately she’d gotten more from people than simply truth or lie.
Focusing her mind, she directed her senses toward him. She gasped when her effort was met with his energy coming toward her in a tingling rush. His face mirrored the shock and surprise she felt. Hunter scrambled up to his knees and hurled himself into her arms, clinging to her as if his very life depended upon it.
She held him tight as wave after wave of the loneliness, isolation and fear he’d lived with since the day his grandmother had died washed through him. His tears soaked her shoulder, and the palpable force of his relief nearly bowled her over. She sent him love and reassurance. He was not alone any longer.
Neither was she.
CHAPTER SIX
I yield, Malcolm!” James thrust the point of his claymore into the ground. “You’ve the devil in you this day.”
“You’re growing soft, James. We’ve only been at it since Prime.” The moment Lady Alethia had come to the lists, Malcolm had felt her presence. He meant to show her his prowess with the sword and couldn’t help but be pleased with the results. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow, glancing to where she stood with the lad at her skirts. Aye, she watched his every move.
Malcolm flexed his muscles and stretched to show them to their best advantage. “Hie yourself to the keep, James, and break your fast. I’m ready for a new challenge.” He grinned at his opponent with smug satisfaction.
James laughed. “I believe your lady awaits.”
Malcolm walked over to her, eager for praise. “Good morn to you, Lady True.” He gave her his most charming smile.
She frowned. “Lady True?”
“’Tis a fitting sobriquet.”
“I prefer my own name.”
“Aye, but ’twill help our clan to accept you if we give you a name of our own devising.” He smiled, smug in his position of authority. “What brings you to the lists?”
“You said if I needed anything, I should come to you.”
“I did. What is it you need?” She’d taken his words to heart, and it filled him with gladness.
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 7