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It was what Adaira had done. Betrothed since birth, they'd grown up as neighbors, always knowing they would someday marry. They'd both been perfectly happy with it. They'd even loved each other, or so she'd said and he'd believed. But when he'd returned home scarred from battle, she'd taken one look at his ruined face and screamed in horror . . . and then she claimed him more monster than man and refused to marry him.
When her father had tried to force the marriage, announcing that it would go on as planned, she'd threatened to kill herself or flee to take the veil. Much to Aulay's relief, her father had relented then and broken the contract. By that point, he'd had no interest in marrying the woman himself. She wasn't, after all, the woman he'd thought her to be and he didn't want a wife who saw him as a monster. Even so, he would have married her to fulfill the contract if the father hadn't broken it. His honor would have demanded it.
Striding outside, Aulay walked to the small stable they'd built at the edge of the clearing to fetch and saddle his mount. He then led the beast out into the yard. His gaze slid to the bedroom window as he mounted. Spotting Jetta in the window, watching him as he settled in his saddle, he paused briefly and peered back at her for a moment. But then he raised his hand in a wave, turned his mount and headed off. It was surprisingly wrenching to leave her.
He'd pulled her from the water more than four weeks ago, but she hadn't been awake for more than twelve days, and yet he felt as if she'd been a part of his life for much longer. In fact, it was hard to recall his life before her arrival in it. Aulay didn't know how that had happened, but he needed to do something about it. He needed to toughen his heart against her . . . else he wouldn't survive when she finally left him.
Chapter 6
"There now, he's gone," Mavis said gently as they watched Aulay disappear into the trees. "Come sit yerself down and let me dry yer hair by the fire, lass. Then ye can come below with me and I'll make ye some lovely papyns fer the nooning."
"We just broke our fast," Jetta protested with amusement as she allowed Mavis to urge her away from the window.
"Aye, but by the time I get yer hair dry and make the papyns, 'twill be the nooning," the old servant assured her as she positioned her before the fire. Leaving her there, Mavis moved off to drag over one of the chairs from the table.
Jetta settled obediently in the chair and then closed her eyes as the woman set to work. First, Mavis used a fresh linen to soak up the worst of the water from her hair, and then she tossed that aside and set to work brushing the still-damp strands. She used long repetitive strokes, drawing the brush through Jetta's hair and lifting the damp tresses away from her scalp and neck so that the strands rose with the brush and then dropped to lay flat again, the action helping to dry it. It was oddly soothing, and Jetta nearly fell asleep in her chair before Mavis decided her hair was dry enough.
"There we are, that should do," Mavis announced, setting the brush aside. She turned back to survey her then and frowned slightly. "Ye look a bit tired, lass. Did ye still want to come below with me or would ye rather nap?"
"Oh nay! No nap." Jetta stood up at once, and tried to look more alert as she assured her, "I shall come below." It would be her second time out of the room since waking, and both in the same day. It wasn't something she wanted to give up on. Just the thought of it brightened her mood considerably.
"Verra well. Ye can sit at the table and keep me company while I cook," Mavis said brightly as she led her to the door. "And I'll tell ye all about wee Katie while I cook."
"The girl who was shot with the arrow?" Jetta asked. The maid had mentioned it as she'd helped her undress before Aulay had arrived.
"Aye, poor wee lass," Mavis said with a shake of the head as they started up the hall. "Ye remind me a bit o' her, actually. She's tiny and has long black hair too. O' course, she has it all o'er whereas Rory had to shave the back o' yer head. Still, otherwise, the two o' ye are quite alike."
Grimacing, Jetta raised a hand self-consciously to the back of her head.
Catching the action, Mavis clucked her tongue. "Oh, now, do no' fret, it'll grow back quick enough. Besides, it obviously does no' bother the laird. Just look at how he sticks close and rarely leaves yer side. Why I've never seen the man so happy. At least, no' since that Stuart bitch broke his heart."
Jetta's eyes widened in surprise at the curse, and she asked, "The Stuart . . . ?"
"Bitch," Mavis said helpfully as they started down the stairs, and then shook her head with disgust. "I do no' often cuss, and I do dislike calling another woman such a name, but that lass is one deserving o' it. She was a piece o' work, that one. I was no' at all surprised when she refused to marry our Aulay after he was scarred."
"She refused to marry him because of the scar?" Jetta asked with outrage.
"Aye, and no' kindly. Said he was a monster, she did, and that she'd rather die than have to look at his face all the rest o' her days. And him still in his sickbed, barely alive when she did it too," she added grimly.
"Bitch," Jetta breathed, horrified that anyone could be so cruel to such a kind man.
"There now, I told ye, did I no'?" Mavis said with satisfaction. "Aye, Adaira Stuart was a true bitch. She had most o' the nobles fooled thinking her sweet and kind, but no' me or any other servant she encountered. Adaira was sweet as honey on the tongue to all the men and any noble lady about, but get her alone in a room with a servant and she showed her true colors quick enough."
"She was unkind to the servants?" Jetta asked with a scowl. Her mother had taught her that one should always be kind to servants. She'd taught her to be kind to everyone, but especially peasants and servants. She'd said that their lives were hard, their days long and full of backbreaking labor, and they should be shown every kindness by those they worked so hard for. Of course, her father had never--
Jetta stopped walking abruptly as she suddenly realized she was remembering something. Of course, the moment she realized that she was remembering something, the thoughts in her head dried up like a puddle under a hot sun.
"What is it, lass? Are ye all right?" Mavis asked with concern.
"Aye," Jetta sighed, and then forced a smile and continued down the stairs with her as she admitted, "Your words just made me remember something my mother once said."
"Ye got a memory back?" Mavis asked, obviously happy for her at the thought.
"Aye, a small one," she admitted, smiling faintly, and then squeezing the maid's hand, she suggested, "Mayhap if ye keep t
alking I'll remember more."
"Oh, well then, I'll talk til I'm blue in the face, m'lady. That I will," she assured her cheerfully as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped off. Ushering her to a large wooden table with benches on either side, she said, "Now you just sit yerself down and I'll tell ye all about the nasty cow what broke our laird's heart."
Nodding, Jetta settled at the table to watch as Mavis started puttering about. After a moment though, she paused and lifted her head to sniff the air with a small frown. "Is something burning?"
Mavis stilled at the question, her own nose rising and beginning to twitch, and then her head turned sharply toward the fire and she rushed to it with an alarmed cry. "Me stew!"
Standing, Jetta followed and peered over the woman's shoulder as she cursed under her breath and began to poke at the stew over the fire with a wooden spoon.
"I suspected Rory had no' remembered the water and I did plan to check on it," she muttered with irritation. "That lad is always forgetting to do what I ask him. Ye'd think a lad bright as that could hold on to a thought fer more than a minute." Clucking, she added on a sigh, "But then mayhap he has too many thoughts in his head to hold on to a one." Shaking her head, she muttered, "I ken I should ha'e checked it, and I did plan to, but he said he had added the water, and then what with Simon arriving and me heading out to find eggs, and then the storm, I plum forgot . . ."
Tsking with irritation, she set the spoon aside and moved off to grab a bit of cloth to protect her hands as she lifted the pot off the hook over the fire. "Get the door for me, please lass."
Hurrying ahead of her, Jetta opened the door so Mavis could carry the pot out, but as the woman passed, she suggested, "Mayhap it can still be saved. Perhaps if ye scooped out the burned bits and--"
"Nay, lass. The charred flavor will be all through the stew. 'Tis fine though. I planned on papyns for the nooning meal, and there's still plenty o' time fer me to get some more stew going fer the sup. Now, just you go sit down, I will no' be a minute getting rid of this."
Jetta watched her walk off toward the stables. At least, she thought she was headed to the stables, but the maid paused and tipped the heavy pot to dump its contents on the ground at the base of a tree next to the stables. Sighing, Jetta pushed the door closed and moved to sit at the table again and wait as she'd been instructed.
