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The maid behind Blair giggled again, making her feel even more uncomfortable.
“Oh, don’t tease the poor lass,” said the servant as she held up a white sleeping gown. “Look how frightened she is. Not everyone is so well off like yerselves.” She smiled kindly at Blair.
Blair returned the smile, which turned into a grimace and a sharp gasp as the maid ripped through her hair with a brush. She clenched her jaw against the pain and closed her eyes, trying to focus on something else. Her thoughts brought her to Aindreas: his beautiful blue eyes, his sun-streaked hair, his wicked smile.
He had been so cruel towards her, as if she had done something terrible to him despite the fact it was their first meeting. She had never been treated so foully before. How dare he call her a mistress, she thought while scowling at the water. He did not know her. He did not know her reputation. She was a God-fearing woman, as her Mamó had raised her to be. It was cruel of him to say such derogatory words against her. Her face heated as she recalled him stepping towards her, the way he had looked at her, as if he enjoyed goading her on, seeing her reactions.
And how she enjoyed his presence and the way he looked upon her.
“Did ye hear the latest gossip?” asked the maid, brushing her hair. “The laird’s son received a missive from Laird Cambel. Apparently, he is trying to make a match with Laird Cambel’s daughter.”
“No,” gasped the maid scrubbing Blair’s back.
“Truly?” asked the servant, folding clothes in Blair’s trunk at the foot of her bed. There was a slight lilt to her tone as if she doubted the truth in the rumor.
“Cook saw Marcus questioning Aindreas about it. Apparently, he’s up to no good.”
The maids giggled in unison, shaking their heads as they continued to work.
“When is Aindreas ever up to any good?” The maid behind Blair tapped her shoulder. “Up with ye, lassie. Yer as clean as they get. Let’s get ye dressed before ye catch a cold.”
Blair nodded and stood, shivering as the water trickled down her body. She covered her breasts as the maids wrapped her in a towel, drying her skin and hair. They led her towards a small vanity with a looking glass and a red cushioned chair, sitting her down and continuing to brush and braid her hair.
Blair gazed back at her reflection as the maids continued to discuss the castle rumors, trying not to think about Aindreas and the fire in his eyes.
“Well, the girls will be upset if the rumors are true,” chuckled the maid, holding up a sleeping gown and giving a curt nod. “I can just imagine their faces at meeting the new lady of Castle Lachlan.”
“There will be tears indeed.”
Blair clenched her jaw, wishing desperately the women around her would stop talking about Aindreas. She couldn’t believe anyone could ever fall for that scoundrel of a man, and listening to their gossip only made her stomach churn in both anguish and anger. Blair didn’t understand why she even cared about that man. He was cruel. He was wicked. She wished his future wife the best of luck in dealing with such a distasteful man.
“Do ye know when the Cambels will arrive?” asked the maid, drying her with a clean, white towel.
The maid with the brush shrugged. “Not at all. But I reckon it should be soon. Laird Cambel is not a patient man, or so I’ve heard.”
“Truly? Do ye think the laird will bring his daughter?”
“What’s her name again?” asked the maid pulling the sleeping gown over Blair’s head. “Is it Dahlilah?”
“I believe it’s Sorcha. They say she’s bonnier than most.”
The maid dropped the towel and rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say about lairds’ daughters. I won’t believe it ‘til I see it.”
The girls giggled, and Blair frowned in the mirror. She gazed back at her reflection, taking in her clean face and the slight rouge in her cheeks. Her hair was braided back and tumbled over one side of her shoulder, displaying the sharpness of her jaw. She didn’t know if she was bonnie or not. Her Mamó had thought so, but she didn’t know what made a lass bonnie: only that beauty came from within.
“I can applaud ye on yer tastes. She sure is bonnie, Father,” her face heated as she recalled Aindreas’s words. The laird’s son thought she was bonnie, yet the way he had said it, it sounded more like a curse than a blessing.
Blair scowled and shook her head, pressing her palms into her eyes and rubbing them. She was obviously exhausted from a very long day of traveling and dealing with family scruples. She wouldn’t be thinking such things after a good night’s rest.
She slowly rose from her chair and padded towards the bed, nearly knocking into the small round table resting in the middle of the room next to the tub.
“Shall I bring up yer dinner, Miss Blair?” asked the kinder of the maids.
Blair shook her head. “No,” she murmured.
The maid nodded while the other two left, giggling and whispering to each other. “We will return in the morn to help ye with yer clothes.”
Blair was about to tell her it was not needed, but she thought against it and nodded.
