Page 13 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“That’s much better for now. I shall leave the dressing on until after ye have had a full wash, which I’m sure ye are desperate for after the stress of the day.”
She stood up and moved to leave the bandages on the writing desk for later.
“We will have dinner in the main hall in half an hour. Ye should have plenty time to freshen up and change yer clothes.”
Rosaline gulped. Perhaps it had not been as embarrassingly obvious to others as to her that she had arrived with absolutely nothing but the clothes she wore now, grubby as they were. Perhaps they assumed her tunic had acquired years of wear in just one stressful day. Alas, she had nothing to change into, and certainly nothing suitable for dinner in acastlewith alaird.
“I—me apologies, Lady Alexandra, but I dinnae have anything suitable to wear to dinner. This is all I have.” She paused. “Would it be all right if I just eat in me room?”
“Good heavens!” Alexandra exclaimed, shaking her head and placing a hand on her forehead. “How utterly silly of me—of course. Let me fetch ye a few dresses from me wardrobe; they should be just the right size.”
Rosaline gasped. “Nay, Me Lady, that really isnae necessary. Ye dinnae have to loan me yer lovely garments. I can simply eat in me room and wash me tunic overnight.”
“Dinnae be so silly, lass. Just give me a moment.”
Before Rosaline could object any further, Alexandra had swept out of the room with the same spriteful energy she had had all afternoon, seeming to pull from a never-ending well of liveliness.
Rosaline felt very wary. She was in a huge, well-furnished room, awaiting dinner and dresses and having her feet washed by the Laird’s sister. It seemed all too much to take with nothing to give in return. She felt that at any minute, she would be asked to pay the price, and she had absolutely no clue as to how large that price would be.
But Alexandra was already pushing the door open with her back, her arms full of frocks. She squeezed the thick fabrics through the doorway and dumped them on the bed.
“There. That should tide ye over until we get ye dresses of yer own.” She exhaled, clearly winded from carrying the weighty fabrics. “I picked a mix of colors and styles so ye could find somethin’ that suits ye.”
A pile of red, blue, yellow, and beige fabrics lay on the bed. Rosaline could see the detailed embroidery on each of them, some with delicate lace around the neckline, some with floral patterns sewn into the skirts. Some with short sleeves, some with long sleeves, all in pristine condition. She had dresses like this back at home, but in the convent, she only had the tunic she was wearing now and another in even worse condition. It had been years since she had pictured her body in such beautiful garments.
“Thank ye very much,” she offered, although her voice was quiet, unsure.
“I shall have someone bring up a bathtub for ye and fill it so that ye can wash properly before ye pick a frock. And please remember to put the dressing on yer ankle afterward,” Alexandra instructed, before turning to the door.
“I-I willnae need a bathtub, that’s all right. Just a pot with warm water and a cloth will do,” Rosaline said quickly.
“Nay, nay. Ye will need the bathtub brought up anyway—you may as well put it to use. I’ll see ye at dinner.”
And with that, Alexandra was gone.
Rosaline stood in the middle of the room, caught between the bed, the window, and the door. It was the first moment she had been alone since she had escaped from the convent. So much had changed, and so fast. She had barely had the time to process it.
“I just have to keep me wits about me,” she muttered to herself, now that she was free from the vow of silence. “Nae everythin’ is as terrible as the convent. Maybe there is nay catch.”
But saying it out loud felt even more ridiculous than thinking it.
She ran her hands over the dresses, feeling the quality of the fabric. They were all so beautiful, but she knew already that she would pick the most subtle dress—the beige one. She did not want them to think she wanted to be pampered or catered to.
She lifted the frocks and hung them in the wardrobe to keep them wrinkle-free and fresh, hanging the one she had selected on the outside, when a knock sounded at the door.
“Uh…” She hesitated, feeling unentitled to call someone in. “Come in?”
A young woman in a maid’s garb poked her head inside. “I have a bath for the Lady.”
“Ah, yes,” Rosaline said.
Already she could see the size of the tub where it sat outside the door, and she certainly didn’t want to be the reason they had to carry it back down the stairs. She allowed them to bring the bathtub and set it beside the door.
Once two maids had set it up, more entered behind them with large buckets of warm water. One after another, they came in and gradually filled the tub, steam curling up from it as the water rose to the rim.
With each bucket brought into the room, Rosaline’s heart beat faster and faster, growing more and more anxious. It was not just open water that triggered her fear; it was any large quantity.
As the bathtub filled, it seemed to deepen, and the water grew closer to the edge. If she was to sit in it, she would be almost entirely submerged.
