Chapter 12
Ada felt shy. She was once again alone with the laird’s grandson, wearing nothing but her shift. Her mouth and throat were still raw from the salt water. When she ran her tongue over her front teeth, they felt furry.
“Pass me the pitcher over there, please, Calvin. Mither made me a sweet mint cordial.”
He moved slowly, like a man waking from a nightmare. He held the mug steady for her while she sipped in some of the liquid, rinsing it around to freshen her mouth.
“D’ye no’ trust yerself with me drinks anymore, Calvin?”
She gave a small smile, but it was not enough to convince him she was well.
“I have never seen anyone so spritely after consuming what could only be a massive dose of poison. I swear whatever was in that bottle was more bane than whiskey, an’ yet here ye sit,” he told her, his tone bemused.
“Were ye poisoned? I could swear it was a bad dream. Ye look as if all ye suffered from was a vague churnin’ o’ the stomach after eating a green apple. ”
She acknowledged his efforts at making light of things, but he was not fooling her.
“Thank ye for yer concern, Calvin, an’ for helpin’ me so quickly. And nay, ye are nae wrong; it was a nasty amount I swallowed. The poison was enough to fell a tall, strong man like a tree.”
“An’ yet ye survived…”
The laird’s grandson was staring at her in wonder.
“Aye, I survived,” Ada snapped. “Don’ go makin’ a big fuss about it!
Since I was a wee girl, Mither has fed me tiny portions o’ poison to build up me strength against such things.
As healers, we work with dangerous plants an’ the like all the time.
It makes sense to build up our resistance against an accidental exposure.
It is easier to mistake hemlock for cow parsley or carrot plant than ye think. ”
“Ye were poisoned by hemlock?” He shifted the stool closer to her bedside, taking her hand in his own. “Yer fingers are freezing. Are ye sure ye are well?”
She found him endearing once again. Why were they always brangling at one another? It made it very awkward, especially with an evildoer skulking in the shadows.
“Aye, dinnae fash, Cal. It’s an ancient practice—eating small amounts of poison to gain immunity.
Mither had an ancient manuscript that dear auld Eustace Maclaren transcribed for us.
In the translation, it says the practice of eating poison voluntarily was begun by King Mithridates over a thousand years ago.
By gradually administering nonlethal doses to oneself, ye can develop a tolerance to a large dose meant to kill. ”
He shook his head. “That sounds incredibly dangerous, Ada.”
She had to explain more. “Nay, no’ at all.
Ye can do it too if ye like. Start by eating the seeds of an apple.
Or ye can boil up a decoction o’ root vegetable skins after they have turned green and drink a wee bit o’ that.
I’ve seen men prostrate themselves with strong alcohol, which is far worse than drinkin’ a wee bit o’ poison once in a while!
What are ye complainin’ about? I’m alive, aren’t I?
Ye can thank yer lucky stars I am, else ye would be facing a magistrate in the mornin’! ”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Dinnae jest about such things, lass. If anything were to happen to ye…”
Their eyes made contact, and she was transfixed like a rabbit when a wolf glanced at it sideways. But this was not the time or the place. Wait, she was in his bed! In his bedchamber! Maybe it was the right place…
When Ada turned her face, she could smell the masculine musk of him on the pillow bolster under her head. It made a certain part of her surge with excitement. There was no protection against the intense effect he had on her, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it.
“Come lie with me, Calvin,” she whispered, patting the space on the mattress next to her. “The cordial has made me tired. Belike I will have nightmares as the bane leaves me body.”
He walked to the dressing room next door and came back wearing a fresh plaid wrapped above his hips and nothing else. The muscles on his torso rippled and flexed in the candlelight, even with the smallest movement. When he noticed her raised eyebrows, he grinned.
“Ye heaved yer dinner over me auld plaid, lass.”
She hung her head, saying in a small voice, “It was the salt water, Cal…it would make a saint spew up the waybread on the road to Jerusalem—it was so vile.”
They laughed together. He did not climb under the sheets but lay on top of them.
But it felt so heavenly when he drew her closer to him and held her in his arms. Ada had never been hugged tightly by anyone other than her mother.
This sensation was completely different, comforting and stimulating at the same time.
“Promise ye will stay here close to me all night,” she whispered, snuggling against his broad chest, daring to lay one hand on the hard perfection of his chest.
“Och aye, lass. If it’s no’ lusty lads wantin’ to dance with ye, it’s murderous evildoers lurkin’ in the dark. Ye can bet yer last shilling I will be stayin’ close to ye!”
She awoke to a bright room full of sunshine.
The brightness she had been expecting, but the languid feeling of contentment flooding over her was not.
Ada lay in the laird’s grandson’s arms for as long as she could, relishing this new sense of being…
warm and happy. No, those were not the exact words to describe it, but they would have to do for now.
He was lying behind her, his body snug against hers and his muscled arm wrapped around her waist. Inch by inch, so as not to wake him, Ada shifted away.
She felt weak, and her throat was still sore, but when she placed her feet on the floor, there was no shaking or tremors.
After giving the man she liked to call Calvin one backward glance, she tiptoed to the dressing room.
His chambers were spacious and luxurious.
Next to the dressing room was the privy, and beyond that, a washroom with a copper tub sat on the flagstones.
The parlor must be on the other side of the bedchamber. I never realized how large the Castle is once ye get inside. I wonder if I dare tug on the bell rope?
She pulled the cord. A page was scratching on the door a moment later.
“Bring up four pails o’ hot water, would ye please, Oswald Branach?” Ada asked the small boy. “But keep it close for now by tellin’ the servants it’s for the laird’s grandson’s bath.”
Oswald, sensing a clandestine romance in the air, promised not to breathe a word to anyone.
“I’m that grateful ye’re well again, Ada!” the small boy said.
“Keep that under yer hat too!” Ada begged the boy as he ran down the passageway. “I want to pretend I’m still sick!”
Not long after this, Oswald was back, carrying two large pails of hot water over his shoulders.
Ada had used the spare time to snap Lachlan’s tooth-cleaning stick in half, fray the edges, and use the fresh side to scrape the fur off her teeth - she rinsed her mouth out with the sweet cordial her mother had left for her, but she did not swallow because the elixir had a sedating effect.
She carried the pails to the tub and poured them in before handing the buckets back to Oswald.
“Make haste with the remaining two pails an’ I’ll give ye a sugar plum,” Ada said in a coaxing tone.
She always carried sugar plums wrapped in paper around with her in her pocket. Ada loved small children and bairns. She adored the way their little faces lit up when she gave them treats. Oswald ran back from the kitchens as fast as his little feet could carry him.
Ada dipped her toe into the deliciously hot tub of water and then sat down in the tub.
It was meant to be a hip bath for the laird’s grandson, but for her it was as big as a delightful little pond.
She gave a small sigh of happiness as her shoulders slid under the surface of the hot water.
A bar of Castile soap sat on a soft cloth next to the head of the tub, and Ada made free with it all over her body.
The bubbles popped against her skin, smoothing away the stress and illness of the previous day.
“I wondered where ye’d wandered off to.”
Ada was a maiden, brought up in a male-free environment; she had never had to deal with a masculine presence during her ablutions ever before in her life.
She gave a high-pitched shriek, floundering around in the tub as she debated whether it was best to stay under the water or jump out to find a bathing sheet.
The water had turned milky white from the soap, so she decided to stay submerged.
She turned her head sideways to see where he was, only to find he had left the washroom and disappeared back into the dressing room.
“Stand where I can see ye, Calvin! Ye cannae dart back an’ forth like this! I’m tryin’ to relax.”
A few moments later, he ambled casually back into the washroom, saying, “D’ye want to keep an eye on me in the room the same way one would a bee? I don’t plan on dartin’ back an’ forth to try an’ sting ye, Ada. This is me washroom, after all.”
He came to stand beside the bathing tub dais.
The plaid he had tied around his hips had slid down during the night.
When Ada’s fascinated gaze turned sideways to look at him, her eyes became transfixed on the dark hairs trailing from his navel down to the knot of plaid tied loosely over his groin.
She desperately wanted to reach out and run her finger down the soft hairs, and when she reached that knot, she wanted to rip it open!
Far from being ashamed of these unmaidenly thoughts, Ada felt her body get hot at the thought of doing it.
Her fingers dripping with soap suds, she reached out and touched his taut stomach.
Ada did not watch the effect her action had on him; she was staring up at his face.
They both knew what was happening, but there were no words to describe it.
She felt safe with her body submerged under the milky water; he must be the one feeling exposed.
“I can assure ye that the type of sting I’m settin’ up to give ye will hurt far worse than a bee, Ada.”
His voice sounded calm, but she could see his jaw was clenched with firm concentration. She admired him all the more for having more discipline than she did herself.
Continuing to run her finger up and down him, Ada replied, “Doin’ this makes me body feel more alive, Calvin. After me brush with death, why deny me this intoxicating pleasure?”
“Because ye are no’ the only one being intoxicated, lass,” he growled.
She ignored him, too riveted by the way the droplets of water were dripping down the rigid muscles of his stomach.
“Then let’s get drunk on one another together.” Summoning all of her courage, Ada stood up. “I’m no’ a girl anymore, Calvin. I ken ye want me the way a man wants a woman. Let’s no’ fight anymore. Let’s no’ fight these potent emotions within us anymore…”
She stepped out of the tub. The bath dais was the perfect height for her to look him in the eye as she said, “Come, let’s go back to the bedchamber.”
For one delicious moment, he allowed her to run her hands over his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him closer. Then he grabbed her wrists.
“Nay, Ada. Yer mither might come in at any moment. When I take ye, I want it to be someplace where we can be alone together for many long days. These urges ye have, they are the aftereffect of someone who came close to death and escaped it. Lying with a man is yer body’s way of celebratin’ life.”
She brushed her fingertip over his mouth, staring at him with fascination.
“I wanted to celebrate me life with ye, Calvin, a goodly while before I was pois—”
He crushed his mouth on her lips, setting her entire body on fire for more of his strong embrace.
Ada felt the urge to press herself against him, no longer caring about her nakedness and his hard bare chest holding her so close.
This was what she had always craved, even before she was willing to admit it to herself.