Chapter 7
“Thank you, I can manage from here,” Leah said softly as the servant girl laid out a change of clothes on the bed and hurried away.
She dispensed with the heavy cloak around her shoulders and threw it over a chair beside the fireplace.
The room was extremely warm and cozy, and she felt instantly more like herself as she kicked off her sodden shoes and padded across the floor, looking into every nook and cranny to familiarize herself with her new home.
The view from the window was impossible to see clearly.
She could vaguely discern some shadowy hills in the distance, but the lack of light meant that the world was simply a black wall in the continuing storm.
The rain was still falling, but more slowly now.
She could see the droplets caught in the torchlight below.
Her room was almost overrun with candles, and the roaring fire was banked up to the brim. With the number of fires and torches she had seen on her way to the rooms, she imagined Laird MacWatt must go through a forest a day.
She went to stand beside the fire, allowing the heat to permeate her chilled clothing and letting the glow of the fire bathe her in its warmth.
This may have been a temporary home, but it was a pleasant one, and despite her host’s rather grim personality, she felt welcome.
She had no idea where she would be in a month or with whom she would be living. The uncertainty concerned her greatly, and now that she was alone, her mind began to examine every possibility available to her, becoming more far-fetched and unpleasant the longer she considered each one.
Despite the bravado she showed to MacWatt, she was well aware that if her father truly followed through with his threats, she would have little agency to change his mind. Short of running away and swimming for her freedom, the best place she could be in was this island.
Her thoughts drifted to her friends and how worried they would be when they found her gone. Katie had suggested finding a hiding place, but she was not aware of exactly where Leah had hidden, and now, as far as her friends were concerned, Leah had vanished without a trace.
She remembered how she had felt when Oskar had kidnapped Daphne. She knew all too well the worry her friends would be feeling and resolved to write to them as soon as possible.
I wonder if barbarians have writing implements in their castles.
As she thought of Laird MacWatt again, she felt the same tug in her chest as she pictured his handsome profile. Despite his eyepatch and surly expression, he was exceedingly attractive.
She wasn’t sure what it was about his face that she found so interesting. Oskar was a handsome man, too, but MacWatt had a different kind of face.
MacWatt’s gaze was brooding and filled with promise, a dark invitation Leah could not explain. She found herself imagining what might have befallen her if his reaction to discovering her in his carriage had been quite different.
Perhaps he would have punished her for her actions, telling her that she was his to control now. She pictured him trapping her against the soft walls of the carriage, his huge hands imprisoning her, leaving her no room for escape, teaching her a lesson she was more than willing to learn.
She shivered, dismissing the images with a derisive shake of her head, and turned to examine the dress on the bed as she thought of joining him for dinner.
The garment looked well-kept, and the fabric appeared almost brand new. It had clearly been stored somewhere carefully, protected from rodents and damp. The material was a fine, deep blue, which Leah had rarely seen outside high society.
She ran a hand along the folds of the skirt, feeling the quality of the cut, just as a knock on the door startled her.
“M’Lady?”
She dropped the fabric and walked across the room to open the door, surprised to find three servants in the corridor carrying a small copper bath, which they carried inside the room.
Several more servants stood behind them, holding jugs of steaming hot water, which they brought into the room and emptied into the bath before retreating.
“Do ye need help with yer bath, M’Lady?” the servant girl asked her.
Leah looked at the inviting tub of steaming water. The idea of some quiet solitude was hugely appealing, and she turned to the girl, smiling.
“No. Thank you, I shall manage things myself. Thank you for the clothes, too. I shall call you if I should need anything further.”
The girl bobbed a curtsy and retreated.
Once she was alone, Leah undressed swiftly, dipping a foot into the bath and groaning as she felt the heat envelop her frozen toes. The tub had been filled to just the perfect height, and although she could not stretch out fully, it was instantly comfortable, and the water was warm and soothing.
After luxuriating in the water for as long as she could and giving herself a thorough wash, she could hear the faint clinking of crockery and cutlery being carried to another room from the floors below. She knew that dinner would be served shortly.
She hurriedly dressed, noting that the gown’s fit was a little too wide for her slim figure but comfortable nonetheless. She was relieved when she left the room to find the same servant girl waiting outside.
“I’ll show ye the way, Lady Leah. Are ye feelin’ refreshed?”
“I am. Thank you for your help. The bath was most welcome.”
They made their way down the corridor in silence for a short while, passing endless torches on every wall. Even in London in her own home, there were often places in the house that were always rather dark and unpleasant to walk through alone.
Leah felt safe here, she realized, as though she would be well looked after.
The young girl was silent for so long that it felt a little oppressive, and Leah’s curiosity got the better of her.
“Can you tell me whose gown I am wearing?” she asked.
The girl glanced behind them as they walked, as though checking to see if they might be overhead, but then she leaned in closer and whispered, “‘Tis the old mistress’s gown, M’Lady. Many of them had been let out, but this was one of those she wore after her weddin’. Does it fit ye alright?”
“Yes. Thank you. It’s quite beautiful. I am most grateful.”
Leah wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable knowing she wore a gown that once belonged to MacWatt’s wife. The girl had said that the gowns had been let out. Did that mean that Lady MacWatt had been with child?
Then where is the baby? Whatever happened here?
She was still pondering the idea when they abruptly came upon a large doorway.
The young girl bobbed another curtsy. “Laird MacWatt will join ye shortly,” she said quickly and turned back up the corridor, leaving Leah alone.
Gently, Leah pushed the door open to find herself in a large dining hall. The table in the center had been laid out with a variety of cold meats and bread, and she suddenly realized just how hungry she was after the long journey.
A manservant was standing at the edge of the room. He bowed as she entered and indicated the chair at the end of the long table.
She took a seat, wondering where her host must be.
Yet again, there was a large fireplace in the room, and she felt warm and content as the servants came forward to fill her plate.
She did not feel comfortable beginning without MacWatt, however, so she waited awkwardly in silence, the servants hovering nearby until she heard thudding footsteps approaching.
A few seconds later, he burst through the door, his huge bicep pushing it open effortlessly, where Leah had had to use her whole weight to shift the heavy oak.
“Forgive me,” MacWatt muttered, looking startled to see her waiting for him. “I didnae ken ye were already here.”
He walked to the table in two large strides. He had changed into a fresh léine beneath his jacket, perhaps with some speed. He had forgotten to tie the collar of his shirt, and Leah was granted the opportunity of admiring a large triangle of skin.
His chest was muscular and broad, just as she had imagined it to be, and the soft glow of the firelight highlighted the lines of his muscles as he drew his chair up behind him.
He waved the servants away impatiently, picking several pieces of meat, cheese, and bread from his plate and nodding at her.
“Are ye nae hungry?” he asked gruffly as the servants filed out of the room.
She sniffed. “Where I come from, a lady does not begin to eat until her host is present.”
“Well, he is present now,” MacWatt said, taking a huge bite of the chunk of bread in his hand.
Leah frowned at his dismissive tone, but her stomach was growling, so she picked up her knife and fork.
She tried to avoid eating meat whenever possible—she could not bear the idea of an animal dying to fill her stomach—so she placed several pieces of cheese and bread on her plate, eating delicately and slowly, just as she had been taught to do.
However, it was difficult not to stare at the barbarian tearing off great chunks of roast chicken with his bare hands at the other end of the table.
The food was excellent, and she immediately felt revived by the salty sweet cheese and bread that she consumed. She took a small sip of the red wine that had been poured for her and raised her eyebrows.
She was not sure what she had expected, but certainly not that MacWatt would have better wine in his cellars than her own father.
She looked up at him to comment on it, but he was engrossed in his food, and she did not feel he would welcome her opinion on the matter.
The silence stretched on, and finally, Leah asked the question that had been incessantly burning in her mind.
“You said that I owe you,” she stated as he looked up from his plate of meat, his dark eye settling on her.
“Aye, I did,” he replied.
“How am I to repay you?” she asked as her mind went wild with possibilities.