Chapter 10 #2
Her way with words would take some getting used to, but that was a small price to pay. After all, she had much to learn about the seventeenth century and even more about the Ninth Realm.
“And does it really take three people to dress a person in this century?” She looked as if she’d just bitten into something sour.
“There is the care and upkeep of yerself, yer things, and anything else ye might need.” He didn’t know what a personal maid did.
All he knew was that his first wife had needed five women to keep her sorted.
“They are here to help ye. Ask them anything ye wish—except how to get to Seven Cairns. That they will not tell ye.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she defiantly lifted her chin higher.
“One way or another, I need to go to Seven Cairns and speak with Mairwen. I have questions.” Squaring her shoulders, she adopted the stern aloofness from when they’d first met.
“I need you to understand that. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in our bond.
It means I have loose ends that need to be tied.
” To his relief, her expression softened.
“This is who I am, Mathison. I came to Scotland with an entirely different plan than this. Everything I set up to take care of myself is now in some sort of limbo state. If I’m not going back to my time, I’d at least like to donate everything to the hospital that took care of Gillian. ”
“If ye’re not going back?” He pushed up from the table, no longer interested in anything it held. “Why are ye so worried about things that dinna matter? We are all that matters.”
She blew out a heavy sigh while shaking her head.
“I just want to make sure my ex can’t get his hands on anything when he thinks I’m dead.
Believe me. He’ll try.” She threw up her hands.
“Since Mairwen is so all powerful, she should be able to ironclad the legalities for me so everything goes to the children’s hospital—and I also want my favorite jeans and my Christmas hoodie.
Gillian got one of the nurses to help her get it from the hospital gift shop for our last Christmas together.
It’s the most precious thing I own—among other things.
” Her soulful eyes brimmed with tears again.
“There are other items, keepsakes of mine and Gilli’s time together. I…I need them.”
“Feckin’ hell.” How could he refuse her a trip to Seven Cairns now?
Not when she longed for the last gift her wee bairn had given her.
“I can attempt to summon Mairwen here, but I dinna ken if it will work. If it does, would that do ye?” He’d rather not risk a trek across the Ninth Realm with Calia—at least not yet, especially since Intuition had mentioned an old score to settle with Bansys.
To his relief, she brightened. “That would help immensely.”
“Let me send in yer maids to help ye dress appropriately, and then we will do what we can.”
“Thank you.” She closed the distance between them, slid her hands up his chest, and lifted her face for a kiss. “This means a lot to me.”
He kissed her long and hard, then forced himself to break the bond and lift his head. Biting back a groan, he set her aside and stepped back. “Ye can thank me properly later.”
She grinned. “Deal.”
* * *
Calia returned to the window while waiting for the maids who were supposed to transform her into a proper grand chieftain’s wife.
Wife. That made her shudder. She’d never planned on assuming that title ever again.
With her hand pressed to her heart, she allowed herself a little smile.
Then again, she’d never planned on meeting someone like Mathison either.
He was…indescribable, yet the most right thing that had wandered into her life in a long while.
Otto head-butted the side of her knee, nearly knocking her off balance.
She bent and gave him a big hug. “I didn’t realize what I was dragging you into, sweet boy. I’m so sorry.”
He wagged his tail harder, wiggling his entire back end. With a happy yip, he leaned in closer, then grumbled his comical combination of growls and groans that were his way of telling her all about it.
“I hope that means you’re happy here.” She straightened and stared wistfully out the window.
He jumped up beside her, planting his paws on the ledge and fogging the pane with his breath.
“I didn’t realize they had glass windows in the seventeenth century, but then again, you could fit what I know about this time on the head of a pin.
” Perhaps that was what bothered her the most about this entire situation.
She was as unsure of herself as a newborn kitten when it came to this century and place.
She eyed the thick stretch of woodlands that stretched beyond the massive stone wall set a few yards off from the tower.
Such a formidable barrier had to be protection, but from what?
Other clans or something else? The impenetrable barricade looked as though it wrapped around the entire tower and reached nearly to the level of her window.
She had no idea what floor this was, but a glance downward confirmed it was pretty high.
A hazy, purplish outline of mountains ran along part of the horizon, and if she squinted, she could just make out a patch of sparkling blue between the jagged spikes.
Must be a lake or the ocean beyond them.
Was Ninth Realm’s Scotland built the same as hers?
Intuition would know, but she still remained quiet.
Calia realized she actually missed the voice in her head that she’d listened to all her life.
A light tapping on the door interrupted her musings.
Otto growled.
“Oh, stop. It’s probably one of your admirers.
” She crossed the room and opened it to find not three women but four.
The one in the front was an older, plump lady with an odd yet quite pretty, metallic skin tone, a kind of silvery, pearlescent hue.
The other three seemed more golden than silver, but they shimmered whenever the light hit them just right, too.
All four curtsied, and Calia didn’t have a clue how to react.
Should she curtsy too? Instinct and what few historical movies she’d watched suggested otherwise.
She settled for opening the door wider and allowing Otto to charge into the hallway as she invited them in.
“In case you didn’t know, that was Otto. I’m Calia, and you are?”
The older lady led the way, crossing the threshold with a jaunty bob of her head.
“’Tis a pleasure to serve ye, Mistress Calia.
I am Mynlis, housekeeper here at Wraith Tower.
” As she ushered in the other three, she pointed them out one by one.
“These are the maids I selected to serve ye, and the mighty Wraith himself approved each of them. But if they dinna suit ye now, ye’ve but to say the word, and they will be gone.
This is Kernia, Wesni, and Sasa.” Propping her clasped hands on the shelf of her hefty middle, the housekeeper nodded some more.
“The lads are bringing up the bathtub and the heated water for yer bath, and Kernia has already filled yer wardrobe with the verra best garments she has ever stitched.”
With a proud smile, Kernia flitted across the room with the lightness and grace of a butterfly and threw the doors open to the tall cabinet, revealing an amazing amount of clothing that was either folded and placed on shelves or hanging from bars and hooks. “I hope ye find them suitable, mistress.”
“I’m sure they’ll be…fine.” Calia wasn’t entirely sure of that at all.
First, she preferred slacks or jeans, and second, how could they possibly be the correct size?
But she would be nice. Everyone here was trying so very hard.
It would be rude to behave otherwise. Uncomfortable with being the center of attention, she drew her robe closer around her, hugging herself through the fluffy material.
Thankfully, the clothes she’d snatched up before Mairwen’s disappearing spell got them had remained in the room that no longer resembled anything close to her cozy little bedroom in the cottage.
“This morning, Wesni will see to yer bathing, and Sasa to yer hair,” Mynlis said, “and, of course, once ye know them better, ye may decide what other duties suit each maid’s capabilities.”
Bathing? Calia swallowed hard. Sewing her clothes and styling her hair was one thing, but bathing her? “Uhm…when you say bathing, you mean getting the water, soaps, and towels ready—right?”
Mynlis slowly blinked as if struggling to process the question. “Did no one bathe ye in yer time, mistress?”
“I’ve bathed myself since I was about five.”
“Five what, mistress?”
“Five years old.”
“But here, ye are the mistress of Wraith Tower. Yer maids are happy to bathe ye.” Mynlis and the other three exchanged uncomfortable glances, obviously afraid they’d offended her.
“How about a compromise? They can scrub my back and wash my hair. I can handle everything else.” Calia cleared her throat, trying to free her voice of its nervously shrewish squeak. “I’ll definitely need help dressing properly. Mathison…er…the Wraith would rather I didn’t wear my jeans.”
“Jeans?” Sasa asked, her voice as wispy and golden as she was. “What are jeans, mistress?”
Calia scooped up one of the pairs she’d saved from Mairwen and held them up. “Not my favorites, but one of the few I was able to prevent from disappearing.”
Sasa studied them while inching closer. She reached out and rubbed the material between her long, thin fingers. “These are not like the trews from here.”