Page 28 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
She stepped into the bathing chamber, where a giant tub was already waiting for her, all thanks to Flora, who had arranged it after she returned from Margaret’s room. She unlaced her dress and let it fall to the floor as she stepped towards the tub. Her left leg went in first, then her right.
The coldness of the water eased her frayed nerves as she let her body take in the full sensation. She hadn’t been this relaxed in quite a while. She closed her eyes for a minute and thought of the cottage, of the letter she had planned to write to Sarah and Elizabeth, of the other girls she left behind, of Margaret, of the previous afternoon when Brodrick had crashed into her kitchen, of his glistening skin, of the way the muscles around his jaw tensed up whenever he was listening to her speak.
Her eyes flew open in shock.
What?
Why was she thinking of the Highlander? There wasn’t much to see. He was just a Highlander—like most of them were. He may be a little intelligent and not prone to take offense at every single thing, but at the end of the day, he was still aHighlander. There was no length he wouldn’t go to if it meant preserving his honor.
She needed to get him out of her mind. She was here for one thing and one thing only—taking care of Margaret. She couldn’t let herself get distracted by petty things like the Highlander’s muscular arms and how they caught the sunlight in certain moments. No, she couldn’t let thoughts like that fill her head.
She let the water lap at her pale skin for a few more minutes before stepping out of the tub. She made her way back to her room, slipped into a slightly more comfortable dress, and sat on her bed. Her mind drifted to Sarah and Elizabeth one more time. What were they doing now? She thought of Henrietta and wondered what they were all up to. Had her plans worked? Were they surviving well without her presence?
Perhaps she might just write the letter, after all.
She moved closer to the table right next to the door, rubbing her forehead. A candle burned slowly on the table, providing the perfect light. She grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment, thinking she would run out of parchment soon if she kept going through them at that rate. The number of parchments and quills she had handed to Margaret in just the few days she had left the cottage were so numerous that she couldn't keep track. For now though, she would focus on this letter and try to finish it as fast as she could. The parchment and quill issues may come later.
My dear Elizabeth,
I just arrived at Castle MacDunn. While it is nothing compared to life at the cottage, it is not as awful as I thought it would be. I am making slight progress with Margaret, and if all goes well, I will be back before…
A wave of laughter erupted from below her. She dropped her quill and walked to the windowsill. A group of men were sitting under one of the giant trees in the courtyard, clutching their bellies as they burst into more laughter.
She watched them longingly and wondered if there was a way she could have a conversation with the people outside. The fact that she was not exactly satisfactorily welcomed had not been lost on her but if there was a way she could change that, she would most definitely love to make that attempt. Maybe this way, she could change what people thought about her and use her words to shape their beliefs. Not all English people were out to get them. She could help them see that. Her heartbeat thumped as further thoughts streamed into her mind. Brodrick did warn her not to stray too far, not to indulge herself in things that were of no concern to her. She knew where he was coming from but at the same time, she was a grown woman. She could do whatever she wanted.
Deciding the letter could wait, she grabbed a cloak, wrapped it around herself, and walked out of her room. Castle MacDunn was bigger than she was giving it credit for, and the more she walked, the quicker realization dawned on her.
Perhaps she would take a proper tour of the castle later, when she was settled in. But for now, she let her eyes linger on some of the rather interesting sights she noted on her way to the courtyard.
There were several rooms in the castle, and one of them, she noticed, was a surgery. The smell of several roots, saps, and herbs wafted from the door. In the room was a woman old enough to be her mother.
Ava took a step closer to the door and watched the woman closely for a few seconds.
“Greetings,” she muttered after a while.
The old woman jerked her head up, a look of mild shock and utter fear on her face.
“Apologies,” Ava added, tugging the cloak tighter around herself. “I do not mean to startle you.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed on her. Her bright grey hair grew shinier as she stepped towards her, a vial of what looked like laudanum dangling between her fingers.
“Ye must be the wee Englishwoman who came with the Laird’s daughter,” the woman noted.
Ava placed a hand on her cloak and bobbed a slight curtsy. “My name is Ava. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The woman nodded. “I am Irene.”
“Irene,” Ava echoed, as if testing out the name. “You must be the healer.”
“Most days,” Irene confirmed. “Me son Joseph is here most of the time. Ye fall sick on one of those days, say yer goodbyes and pray ye meet the Lord well. He is that terrible.”
Ava laughed.
Irene studied her, a small smile on her face. “Welcome to Castle MacDunn. I’d steer clear of the courtyard if I were ye.”
There it was again.
First Flora, and now Irene. Why was everyone asking her not to step in there?
