Chapter Twenty-Two
IN A SMALL room with a single window, Lottie was introduced to the most glorious thing she’d ever seen: a bed. A proper bed, with real linens and even a pillow. And what’s more, Lady Mackenzie had insisted a bath be drawn for her.
Lottie had not argued. She was too exhausted and too heartbroken to care about anything other than a bath and a bed.
Servants arrived with a tub, buckets of hot water, and in the company of the young woman who had greeted Aulay at the gates.
She was obviously Aulay’s sister—there was a strong family resemblance in the golden hair and blue eyes.
She was carrying a basket, which she placed at the foot of the bed.
“You’ll need a change of clothing, aye?” she said, gesturing to the basket.
“Ah...aye, thank you,” Lottie said, feeling suddenly ashamed of her appearance. “I canna thank you enough for it.”
“No,” the woman said coolly. “I donna suppose you can.” She folded her arms, leaned insouciantly against the wall as the servants filled the tub, and eyed Lottie closely, like a crow, as if she’d never seen a woman in such a state before.
When the servants had finished the chore, they went out, but Aulay’s sister remained.
“Ah...” Lottie gestured feebly to the tub.
“You donna strike me as bashful,” his sister said.
“Go on, then.” She moved to look out the window at the hamlet rooftops as Lottie disrobed.
“You’ve no’ asked my name, so I’ll tell you.
I’m Miss Catriona Mackenzie, Aulay’s sister, aye?
You may call me Catriona if you like. I canna abide all the Miss This and That. ”
“I’m Lottie,” Lottie said, and tossed her trews and shirt onto the floor. “Lottie Livingstone. You resemble, him, you do,” she said, and stepped into the tub. She closed her eyes on a blissful sigh as she sank into the bath. It was pure luxury after the last week.
“Here.”
Lottie opened her eyes—Catriona was standing beside the tub, holding out a bar of soap. Lottie reluctantly took it, wondering why Aulay’s sister should linger.
Catriona strolled around the room as Lottie bathed. “There’s to be a meeting on the morrow. Two of my brothers and my father will determine what is to be done with you and your clan.” She glanced over her shoulder at Lottie. “Does it frighten you, then?”
Lottie remembered how fear had choked the breath from her in those moments she thought she would drown. She shook her head. “I’m a wee bit uneasy, I’ll no’ deny it. But no’ frightened.” She began to wash her hair.
“Funny, but I thought you’d say that.” Catriona stopped her wandering and turned around to face Lottie. “How did you do it?”
“Pardon?”
“How did you steal my brother’s ship? He’s one of the finest captains on the seas, and ’tis no’ only me who says it, aye? Everyone on Skye would say it as well, and the MacDonalds are no’ easy with their praise, they’re no’.”
“Ah...” Lottie still didn’t know how she’d managed it. “We, ah...we planned to do it.”
“It would no’ be so easy.”
“No,” Lottie said softly. “I, ah...I distracted them.”
“How?”
Lottie could feel her cheeks heating and averted her gaze, then gestured vaguely to her face.
“Pardon?” Catriona asked.
Lottie made a circular motion around her face again. “I distracted them.”
Catriona’s brows dipped. Lottie waited to be ridiculed, or worse, censured for it. But Catriona abruptly laughed. “Are gentleman no’ the most ridiculous creatures? Such slaves to beauty they are.”
The heat in Lottie’s cheeks intensified. “While I...distracted them, my brother struck him from behind. You might have noticed him—he’s rather big.”
“Oh, aye, he’s your brother, is he? What ails him?”
Catriona was very direct, which, in any other circumstance, Lottie would have very much admired. But at present, she wished Catriona would leave. “He was born with the cord about his neck. He’s never been right.”
Catriona sat on the end of the bed. “How tragic for your family. For your mother! Does she wait for your return?”
Lottie shook her head. “She died in the course of bearing my sister.”
“Oh,” Catriona said contritely, and glanced at her hands. “My condolences. Well! I donna know what will happen, but the ship is lost and the cargo we held was no’ ours, aye? We canna replace it and now we have a large debt we didna have before. Everyone is verra angry just now.”
“Aye,” Lottie said softly. “I understand.”
“Nevertheless, my father is quite fair.”
If he were a fair man, he’d see them hang for it, for that was the only fair thing. The only fair thing would be for the Livingstones to pay the Mackenzie debts, but that was as laughable as it was impossible.
Catriona leaned across the space between them and lifted a wet strand of Lottie’s hair. “I’ve never seen such a color, in all my days I’ve no’. No wonder Aulay was stricken.” She dropped Lottie’s hair and smiled.
“He was no’ stricken,” Lottie scoffed. “He was the only man on that ship who seemed suspicious of me.”
“That is what constitutes stricken for my brother. I’ve never known a lass to catch his eye.
He’s had his courtships, aye, and I’ve heard from Rabbie—that’s another of my brothers—that he has no’ lacked for the attention of the fairer sex.
But Aulay likes his solitary life, I think.
He prefers to be free to sail the seas and return to us every now and again.
The good Lord knows that when he’s here at Balhaire, he canna stay for long.
He’s always been quite desperate to be out again. ”
“He is married to the sea,” Lottie said, thinking back on their conversation.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing,” Lottie murmured. She thought of the seascapes he’d painted, of the places he’d been. She had taken that from him and she couldn’t bear that she’d hurt another person as she had clearly hurt him. She would give anything in her power to make it right.
Catriona tilted her head to one side. “You are a beauty, that you are. Pity,” she said.
Lottie flushed.
“I mean pity that you’ll no’ be at Balhaire for very long. I should like to learn how to steal a ship. It can be so tedious here.”
“Borrow,” Lottie said, and closed her eyes.
“Pardon?”
“I borrowed it,” she said.
“Hmm. My brother would disagree,” Catriona said. “He said you are the worst sort of thief, for you pray on the weakness of men.”
Lottie’s eyes flew open, but Catriona had moved to the door. “Sleep well, then.”
Did Aulay really believe that she’d prayed on his regard for her?
In spite of the anxiety that filled her, Lottie slept heavily.
Her body had given out, but her heart and mind plagued her with dreams. She was in the water, trying to reach the shore, or her father calling down the hatch for her to come up before she drowned, but she was unable to reach the steps.
And then there was a dream in the space between sleep and waking.
It was Aulay, crouched on a hill above her, his hand extended to her, his smile broad and inviting.
“Come now, lass, come with me,” he said, and as she slipped her hand into his, his smile became a snarl. “You will hang for what you’ve done.”
Lottie awoke from that dream with a tear sliding from the corner of her eye.
She held him in such great esteem that it was physically painful to have destroyed the thin thread of trust they’d had between them.
She hadn’t deserved his trust at all, but he’d been generous, far more generous than she might have been in his shoes.
She’d destroyed that. He was right—she had ruined everything.
She tried to think, tried to determine a way the Livingstones could pay the Mackenzie losses. Did Mr. MacColl have that sort of fortune? If, by some miracle, she could escape the noose or incarceration, could he set the debt to rights if she married him?
All that thinking made her head ache, and Lottie finally rose from bed. She dressed in the gown Catriona had given her, a gray muslin over a white petticoat and a silky white stomacher. It was a plain day gown, but after her two weeks on the sea, Lottie felt like a queen in it.
Catriona had also left her a hairbrush and hairpins, and even a bit of rouge.
Lottie was deeply mystified by her kindness, but grateful for it.
She brushed her hair, then pinned it back from her face but let it fall down her back.
She left off the rouge, however, as two weeks in the sun had left her with all the rosiness she needed.
When she was fully dressed, she walked down the hall to the rooms where the rest of the Livingstones had been shown the night before. She found Mathais dressed in clean clothes, too, and Drustan in a clean lawn shirt.
“The lad said they couldna find anything but a shirt for Dru,” Mathais said.
Drustan didn’t seem to mind. He was sitting on a bed, bent over a piece of wood in his hands. Mathais noticed Lottie’s interest and said, “Iain the Red brought round a bit of wood for him. His gull is quite good,” he said, and held it up for Lottie to see. “He’s carving a ship now.”
Lottie checked on the other men—all of them in clean clothes, all of them groomed, all of them hungry. She volunteered to inquire after the guard if they might have a wee bite.
Lottie went to the door that led into the bailey and knocked lightly, then carefully pulled it open.
Much to her surprise, Aulay was standing on the other side of the door with the guard.
She gaped at him, unable to speak at first. He was clearly rested, his hair combed into a queue, his jaw clean-shaven.
He wore a plaid, which had been banned by the king, with a coat and waistcoat and ghillie brogues.
He was the picture of strength and virility, and Lottie’s blood began to race.
He was a devil in tartan, and in spite of herself, she smiled broadly, a wee bit like a mad woman.
Aulay did not smile. “I’ve come to fetch you,” he said. “My mother should like to see you all returned to good health with breakfast.”