CHAPTER SEVEN
Back in the bedroom assigned to her, Emily massaged the tense fingers of one hand with those of the other while waiting for a maid to prepare a bath.
Isobell had impressed upon her the risk of running off half-cocked alone through unknown terrain with a child who couldn’t possibly remember the way to the faerie knoll.
Since no one at the castle would defy an order from their chief and oblige her and Tevin with escort to the mound, Emily had agreed under duress to accept the hospitality of Castle Lachlan for another night’s stay.
“Please,” Isobell said. “Reconsider Gregor’s offer to take you as wife.”
Emily frowned and shook her head. Why didn’t they understand?
“Do you have an intended in your future time?” the other woman pressed.
“Not exactly. I planned to marry Kim in the fall. You might remember him from the inn. He bartended in the lounge. Anyway…” Emily’s voice quivered. “He was diagnosed with brain cancer several months ago, and died.”
Just mentioning it made her chest constrict with remembered pain.
“I am sorry for your loss, but that leaves you with little reason to reject Gregor’s proposal.
Jillian and Stephen, as well as the others, are likely frantic about you and Tevin’s disappearance, however, they are well aware of the fickle nature of the Fae and of the Sithichean Sluaigh.
They each had similar ordeals years ago.
They would wish us and you to do whatever possible to ensure yours and Tevin’s safety. A marriage with Gregor would help.”
Emily had no response. There had to be another way.
Isobell’s heavy sigh ratcheted up the guilt niggling at Emily.
Even if she could forgive him for shooting at her with an arrow—which she couldn’t—she didn’t want to marry Gregor.
It wouldn’t matter if he was the best catch in all of Scotland circa 1521.
She didn’t want to marry anyone. Especially someone she’d only recently met.
She couldn’t disrespect Kim’s memory. She still loved him.
His sudden illness and as sudden death had left a hole in her chest and her heart broken in a zillion tiny pieces.
She couldn’t marry someone else. Even if it was only in name.
Besides she wasn’t staying in this time. She and Tevin were going home.
No. They couldn’t make her do something she didn’t want to do.
“Your bath is ready, mistress.”
Emily gave the maid a tenuous smile. “Thank you.”
“I will take Tevin to Lach’s chamber,” Isobell said. “See he is cleaned up and fed. He can stay there for the night, allowing you some privacy.”
“Would you like that, Tev?” Emily bit her lip, worried about the child. Though he seemed to be enjoying the adventure.
“Sure.” His eyes lit, and he nodded with enthusiasm.
“Okay. Off with you then,” Emily said. “I’ll see you later, Isobell?”
“Aye. I will return to assist you in dressing for the eve’n meal.” Isobell ushered a yawning Tevin from the room.
The maid helped Emily undress and climb into the tub. The inviting water was a perfect temperature and, with herbs floating on the surface, smelled like the summer gardens at Foxgloves, the garden center at home in Anderson Creek. How she missed home.
She dismissed the wistful thought and concentrated on the here and now. She sank into the soothing water and sighed. The soap the maid handed her gave off a pleasant lavender scent and was gentler to the skin than Emily would have imagined.
“I will wash your hair if you are ready,” the maid said after a short time.
Enjoying the pampering, Emily agreed. “Thank you.”
The young woman gathered the damp strands to the back of Emily’s head and used a dipper ladle to wet the mass from a bucket. “Yer hair is such a rich brown color, and so verra fine to the touch. Yer new husband will be well pleased.”
Emily stiffened. “I’m not getting married.”
Why were they all pushing so hard for her to marry? What was in it for them?
“Please forgive me. I did not mean to overstep. I had heard ye were to wed the braw Gregor on the morrow. I suppose ’twas naught but idle gossip amongst the kitchen lasses.”
Emily certainly hoped that was the case. “I have not consented to a marriage.”
“’Tis a shame. There are many who would wish to be in yer place.”
Let them have him.
Why didn’t that thought sit well? Why did it make her stomach clench? Emily pursed her lips, annoyed with her contrary feelings.
The maid lathered soap in Emily’s hair, massaged the scalp, and poured a bucket of warm water over her head to rinse away the suds. “I should collect more drying cloths,” the maid said when finished. “Can you manage on yer own for a wee while?”
“I’ll be fine. Go ahead. I’ll soak for a bit and relax.” And forget about all this talk of marriage. Forget about the handsome Gregor.
“Verra good.” The maid left the heavy oak door cracked.
The draw from the opening dragged a warm summer breeze from the gaping window.
The draft raised gooseflesh on Emily’s exposed skin, making her shiver although she wasn’t cold.
She leaned back against the rim of the tub and let the warm water sooth stiff muscles.
Her mind whirred. How was she to get out of this mess?
After a while, she became weightless as if she were about to doze off.
Tee teehee hee. Tee teehee hee. Tee teehee hee.
A soft buzzing and a tinkling giggle jerked her eyes wide open. Her pulse raced. “Who’s there?”
A dragonfly hovered in front of her face.
No. No way! The bug couldn’t—but it did. The diminutive creature had a beautiful, tiny human face and tiny human hands and tiny human feet. Gossamer lavender wings edged with deep purple kept her aloft.
Tee teehee hee.
The pixie blew dust into Emily’s face, causing her to gasp and suck the particles deep into her lungs.
She choked and coughed. The tiny creature darted away in a frantic flutter of wings and flew out the window, leaving behind a befogged Emily with only one thought on her mind as she eased back against the rim of the tub—Gregor.
* * *
Gregor strode through the passageway surprised when he reached his destination to find the bedchamber door assigned to Emily ajar. He knocked on the wood, and the oak panel creaked farther open, exposing to view the most delightful sight.
Emily’s blue eyes—eyes that haunted him since the first—fluttered open.
She smiled. “Oh, hi.”
Gregor was taken aback by the pleasant greeting.
The lass seemed different. Her gaze held a tenderness that hadn’t been there earlier. As if she was glad to see him. His mouth went dry, and he had to clear a parched throat. He hesitated, trying to remember why he had sought her out.
“I probably shouldn’t be here, but…” He raked a hand through his tangled hair. Did he really believe interrupting her bath would help plead his case? “I thought we could talk and perhaps I might convince you to accept an apology for my misplaced shot.”
“Forgiven and forgotten,” she said, still smiling.
“That is good. Thank you.” He exhaled a short breath. “As to my offer of marriage. I wish you would reconsider my heartfelt proposal. I wish only to ensure your safety and that of the bairn.”
Not true. He desired much more.
He swallowed uneasily. He shouldn’t be staring at her as if he was a green lad again and found himself in the company of the most comely lass at the fair.
He definitely shouldn’t be gazing upon her while she bathed.
An immediate arousal had him shifting his weight.
Thank the Saints above, he no longer wore his leather trews and had donned a plaide.
The lass would remain unaware of his ardor.
“You are kind,” she said.
“I should not be here. I had not realized you bathed.” He stumbled over the words. “Should leave.”
“No. Come in.” A dainty hand waved him forward.
Unable to deny her, he stepped through the threshold. Awkward. Unsure how to proceed.
“Will you close the door?” she asked. “When open, it causes a draft from the window.”
He hesitated. Many would believe it wrong for him to be alone with her with the door shut. Especially with her state of undress. She would be compromised. He didn’t mind as long as she seemed unconcerned. He’d be the one to benefit if the chief forced her hand.
Gregor had always thought it unfair an unwed lass could attend to the bath of a man, but the same woman was forbidden to be attended by a man.
He closed the door, took a deep breath, and turned toward the lass he yearned to take as wife.
Once wed, they could attend to each other’s bathing without censure.
The intimate thought brought warmth to his chest and fire to his blood.
“Come closer,” she said. “We’re to be married after all.”
His eyes widened. Had he heard correctly? He forced the shock from his features and glanced at Emily from under lowered lashes. Had she noted his reaction?
“Have you changed your mind then?” he managed to ask in a steady voice, concealing a fervor of hope.
Sometimes he found her words confusing, but he felt certain she’d claimed they were to wed.
He took several steps deeper into the chamber.
Inhaled sharply. Froze. Stared into the tub.
Although the herbs floating on the surface shadowed her breasts, the moist skin above—caressed by lapping water when she moved—was most appealing.
“Had I misunderstood?” Her brow furrowed. “I thought we had agreed to marry tomorrow.”
He jerked his intent gaze from the moisture shimmering on her skin to her bemused eyes.
When had she changed her mind? Why hadn’t he been told?
He cleared his throat. Moistened his lips. “Aye. We are in agreement. We wed on the morrow in the chapel directly after breaking our fast at a wedding feast.”
“Gregor, what are you doing in here?” Lady Isobell said as she strode into the chamber, carrying a stack of drying cloths. “You ken ’tis not fitting for you to be alone with Emily while she bathes, and especially with the door closed.”
Although Lady Isobell quoted the tenets of proper behavior, her tone contained only token censure. The edges of her lips quivered as if she struggled to suppress a smile.
“You will be pleased to learn Emily has agreed to become my wife.” He shot a grin her direction then glanced back at the beautiful woman who’d just made him the happiest man at Castle Lachlan.
“Perhaps, Mistress Emily, you would walk with me at sunrise and allow me to show you the walled garden before we break our fast and wed?”
“I’m sure to enjoy that.” She beamed.
He rubbed his chest. Her easy agreement made him feel strange. Good.
“Excellent. I have missives to send.” He bowed and bounded from the chamber, a bounce to his step.