Page 37 of Dorchad

The door to the chamber abruptly opened, and Rebecca turned to see Sgathan carrying in two buckets of hot water, which he placed on the floor by the wash stand. He then gave her a brief but intense look-over, his gaze lingering on her face as his brows drew together. It seemed like he almost didn’t recognize her, which was silly. He’d seen her plenty of times.

This must be the first time he found a girl in his brother’s room.

“Good morning,” Rebecca finally said, setting down her tea.

“Indeed.” He came over and walked around her, studying her from all angles. “You spent the night with my brother.”

“I did.” She saw no reason to deny what was obvious. “Is that a problem for you?”

The seneschal tensed. “Dorchad doesnae trifle with females.”

“Other females. Not me. He trifled with me.” The way he flinched when she said that was almost like the reaction to a sudden, painful slap. “Maybe you should go down to the lists and talk to him about this. I’m sure he’ll reassure you it was consensual.”

Sgathan suddenly strode forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her down into the chair by the banked hearth. It was so sudden and unexpected that Rebecca didn’t resist, although she got her fists ready for whatever else he had planned.

“Did my twin behave like a beast with you?” the seneschal demanded as he jerked up her sleeves and inspected her arms, paling when he saw the soft bruises from Dorchad’s fingers. “You’re marked. Did he use his nails or teeth, or take you in an unnatural manner?”

He wasn’t angry, he was frantic, Rebecca realized.

She took gentle hold of his hands. “No, your brother didn’t bite or scratch me. I bit him a few times, but he likes that. I’m not sure what you mean by unnatural, but everything we did together was natural for us. Why are you so afraid?”

“’Tis...naught.” Sgathan went down on one knee, hanging his head. “You’re safe, then.”

“Safe? I don’t understand,” she said, completely baffled now.

He squeezed her hands and released her before he stood. “Please dinnae mention to Dorchad my behavior this morn, Healer. ’Twasnae meant unkindly.”

His face had gone so white he resembled a ghost of himself, with his eyes becoming blue bruises. Whatever had brought him here to check her, it had nothing to do with Rebecca or Dorchad, she suspected. But what else could scare him so much?

“Talk to your brother about what’s worrying you,” she suggested. “Dorchad can put your fears to rest, I’m sure of it.”

“No one can do such for me, Healer.” With that cryptic prediction Sgathan left.

As Sgathan walked away from his brother’s bed chamber he sensed someone watching him, but saw no one. With his temper already straining at the tight leash he kept on it, he wanted to ignore the unwelcome tag-tail, but not knowing who was shadowing him would aggravate him even more. He proceeded downstairs to his work room, keeping an ear on the light footsteps echoing his. Rather than go inside he left the door partly open, and then stepped across the passage into the facing doorway. A few moments later one of the laundry maids appeared, and crept up to stand beside his room so she could peer in through the door gap without being seen.

“What do you want, wench?” he demanded, stepping out into the light.

Sheona turned and regarded him with an expression of false alarm, which she strengthened by pressing her fingers against the front of her throat. She had just bathed, judging by the smell of soap and water lingering on her skin, and left her hair down on her broad shoulders.

“Forgive me, Seneschal. I hoped I might speak with you about Healer McIan.” She glanced over her shoulder before she gestured at his work room. “Might we speak in private? ’Tisnae gossip I wish spread by others.”

Sgathan pushed the door open wider, following her after she stepped in and closed the door behind him. “What about her?”

“I dinnae wish lose my place at Gealladh, you ken.” She wore no shift under her thin, shabby gown, and her full breasts heaved as if she couldn’t control her breathing. “And the lady, she’s now sharing a bed with your brother chieftain.”

She seemed the very picture of concern, and yet the manner in which she watched him suggested that the ruse was for his benefit.

“Say what you wish, or go.” He started toward the door.

Sheona stepped into his path at the last moment, holding the door shut with her back and resting her hands against his chest. “I watch the healer, and she’s no’ like Lady Lucy. She’s more the harlot, and wishes seduce your brother. She made me take her to the gallery so she might gawk at him in the lists—and did thus for hours.”

“Then she’s addled,” Sgathan told her.

“I’d tell you all I learn about her, if you’ll protect me from your twin.” She walked her fingertips through the laces of his tunic. “Do you share wenches between you? Ever I’ve wondered.”

The maid wanted him to use her, perhaps believing that a few minutes in her quim would enslave him. Sgathan did want her, but not for facking.

“You’ll do naught of the kind,” he told her as he tugged her away from the door, but pushed her to one side so he could open it. “Never speak of Healer McIan or my brother again, or I shall bid Dorchad put you in the dungeons. Get out.”