Betrayed

calmly. 'The fireplace draws well and is large enough to heat water for yer bath, as ye can tell by the cauldron hanging there now. I see Nelly is already attending to her duties. She is my niece, and a good lass. I canna imagine where she has gotten to, however.'

Her words had scarcely died when the door opened and a young girl hurried into the room, carrying a silver tray upon which was a carafe of red wine. Sticking out from the pockets of her apron were two silver goblets. She was a pretty creature with bright blue eyes and carrot-red braids. Placing her burden upon the table, she then curtsied to the two other women. 'I have already begun warming the bath water, Mistress Una,' she said politely.

'Aye,' Una answered approvingly, 'and ye have fetched wine. Good. Well, I can see ye have yer duties well in hand, Nelly. Greet yer new mistress, Fiona Hay, and I'll be on my way.'

'God's greetings to ye, lady,' Nelly said, curtsying prettily.

'God's greetings to ye, Nelly,' Fiona returned. The girl looked to be about her own age.

'I'll bid ye good night then, Mistress Hay,' the housekeeper said, and she departed the room.

'I'll get the tub,' Nelly said briskly. 'Whew! I can smell the horses on ye. Did ye ride far today, lady?'

'From the bottom of Ben Hay,' Fiona replied, then looked about the chamber.

This was to be her new home, and it was far grander than anything she had ever had. She wondered if her sisters were as finely ensconced. It was, to her eye, a very elegant chamber. There were heavy draperies of crimson velvet drawn over the shutters that covered the windows. There was a fine big bed with curtains of scarlet and cream-colored brocatelle hanging from polished brass rings. But the ultimate luxury was indeed the fireplace. There had been but one at Hay Tower, in the hall, but their bedchamber above the hall had been so cold on many a winter's morning that the contents of the nightjar had frozen.

'Can I help ye?' she asked Nelly as the girl struggled to wrestle a round oaken tub from its storage space behind a small door.

'No, thank ye,' Nelly said, rolling the tub before the fireplace. ' 'Tis just getting it out 'tis tricky.' She began emptying a line of buckets set up by the fireplace into the oaken tub. 'The lads will be up with more hot water any minute now. It cools on the way from the kitchens, but that is why I have this big kettle over yer fire.' No sooner had she spoken than there was a knock upon the door. At Nelly's bidding the door opened to admit a line of young clansmen bearing two buckets apiece, which each dutifully dumped into the tub.

It was a fine tub, Fiona thought. It stood about three and a half feet in height. The sturdy oak was made even stronger by several iron bands that had been wrapped about the tub. The outside of the tub was polished smooth and clean, and she suspected the inside would be as well. Despite her early morning bath she was beginning to look forward to a lovely long soak in the tub, for her muscles were starting to tell her that riding was a sore business. The last of the water bearers disappeared out the chamber door, Nelly closing it firmly behind them.

Fiona pulled off her cap and laid it aside.

'I'll help ye, mistress,' Nelly told her. ' 'Tis me duty.' She quickly undressed Fiona, then said, 'Pin yer hair up, lady, while I add the boiling water. Do ye like it good and hot?'

'Aye,' Fiona said, a trifle embarrassed to find herself totally naked before a stranger, but Nelly didn't seem to take any notice as she cheerfully went about her task of swinging the iron arm holding the black kettle of boiling water out from over the fire, lifting it up using a cloth to shield her hands, and pouring it gingerly into the oaken bathtub.

'There now, and we're ready,' Nelly said briskly as she helped her new mistress mount the two steps up so she could enter the tub.

Fiona sank down into the hot water with a gusty sigh. 'Ahhh, Nelly lass, nothing ever felt so good to me as this does now,' she said.

Nelly chuckled. 'Ye've never been on a horse before?'

Fiona shook her dark head. 'They're hard creatures, and I've a soft behind, I fear.'

Nelly laughed. 'I prefer me own feet, thank ye,' she replied.

Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening, and a tapestry hanging upon the wall by the bed was lifted up as the laird stepped into the room. 'Good evening, my dearie,' he said to Fiona. 'Ye may continue in yer duties, Nelly.' Then he sat down upon the bed.

“My lord!'' Fiona had finally managed to find her voice.

'Aye, lassie?'

' 'Tis most unseemly that ye be here in my chamber while I bathe,' Fiona protested heatedly. 'Please leave at once!'

'Lassie,' he explained in an amused voice, 'watching one's mistress bathe is a pleasure, and I'll not be denied it. Besides, I see little more of ye than I already have seen. Nelly lass, bring me a goblet of wine before ye begin washing yer mistress.' He stretched his length out upon the bed, the pillows at his back, accepting the silver goblet the wide-eyed Nelly handed him. 'Thank ye, Nelly.'

Blushing, Nelly curtsied and hurried back across the chamber to the tub where Fiona sat glaring angrily at the laird. 'The soap has a nice fragrance of heather,' the girl said softly as she set to work to wash her mistress. Lathering her cloth, she gently scrubbed the creamy back and shoulders, the slender neck and arms, quickly rinsing them. 'Ye’ll have to raise yer legs, one at a time, lady, or I canna do them,' she whispered. Grimly Fiona followed the girl's soft instructions. 'Oh lady, how are we to do the rest if ye canna stand up, and ye canna with him here.'

Fiona's eyes met the wicked glance of the laird as he sprawled lazily upon her bed. With a small mocking gesture he raised his goblet to her. Not a word passed between them, but Fiona was aware of the silent challenge. Taking a deep breath, she stood up, saying as she did, 'Hurry, Nelly, 'tis chilly. When ye've finished, I'll want to soak a bit. While I do, please warm my night attire.'

Nelly swallowed hard but went swiftly about the task of finishing her mistress's bath. She heard the laird's deep chuckle, yet did not see him once again raise his goblet to Fiona in appreciation of not simply her charms but her defiance. As for Fiona, she kept her glance impassive, although she was frankly mortified at having to display herself. She knew she was too damned slender, and her breasts were no bigger than young apples in early autumn. They would never really be big, she feared.

Angus Gordon drank his wine, but he hardly felt the heat of the liquid as it slid down his gut. He viewed Fiona's nakedness, astounded by the sensuousness of her form. Everything was in perfect proportion, even her pretty little breasts. They would grow a bit fuller in time, he suspected, but he hoped they would never lose their curvaceous charms or the pert sauciness of their pink nipples. He could not see much else, for the height of the tub precluded it, and Nelly was discreetly attempting to shield Fiona from his curious gaze. After draining his cup, he set it aside and stood up, even as Fiona sat quickly back down in the tub.

'Ye've done yer duty nicely, Nelly,' he complimented her. 'Now go to bed. Yer mistress won't need ye until the morning.' Firmly, a hand beneath the startled girl's elbow, he ushered her from the room. Closing the door behind Nelly, he made a great show of turning the key in the lock. Then he came to perch upon the edge of the tub. Reaching out, he twirled a damp tendril of Fiona's hair between his fingers, noting with admiration the creaminess of her neck and shoulders.

'Yer as bold as ye accuse me of being, my lord,' Fiona said softly, surprised to find that her voice was in working order.

'A man should be bold, but a woman should not be,' he answered her quietly. Her emerald eyes were really quite spectacular, he thought.

'Are ye just going to sit there while I soak?' she demanded.

'Aye,' he said calmly. 'Ye canna soak forever, lassie.'

Silence descended, a silence so heavy it felt oppressive. Fiona hunched down as far as she dared without being cowardly. For a time the water was warm, but then it began to feel cool. She sneezed. Angus Gordon said nothing. Then he stood up and lifted her dripping form from the water, wrapping her in a towel. She was so surprised by his action, she had no time to protest it.

'Don't be witless, wench, and catch yer death. Ye have yer sisters to consider. They're better here with me than with one of yer brothers-in-law's families.' He began to rub her down.

'Take yer hands from me,' she snapped, her composure returning. 'I'm completely capable of drying myself off.'

'But I am enjoying doing it,' he said, continuing. 'Since ye are to be my mistress, Fiona Hay, 'tis time ye began