A Highland Pearl (Highland Treasures Book 1) (3 page)

Her neck cramped from bending over, and her back ached. She
rubbed a sore place on her arm. The gloaming turned dark, but Maidie continued
to work without stopping to eat or rest. Too many were losing too much blood,
and every life was worth her sacrifice. Someone touched her shoulder and she
turned around. Davina stood at her side.

“Maidie, you need to rest. You’ve been here all day and now
into the night.” Davina’s soft brown eyes shone with compassion.

“There are still some who need tending.” Maidie turned back to
the task of washing the grime off a dirty leg.

Davina motioned for a nearby servant. “Finish washing this
mon. I’m taking the lady with me.” She turned back to Maidie, pulling her up.
Her legs were numb and she could hardly stand. Davina held tightly to Maidie’s
arm. “Angus and his assistants will finish the task. I have a bedchamber and
bath made ready, and food ordered. You should eat now, and rest. However, I
would ask that you look in on Andrew before retiring.”

Maidie rubbed the small of her aching back. “I must return
home. Sven is waiting at Flora’s.”

“I will have someone fetch Sven.” Davina pulled Maidie along
by the arm.

Maidie looked back at the wounded man she had been tending.
The servant busily washed the dirty body. She hated to leave, but knew Davina
was right. Maidie, picking up her leather sack, barely had strength to follow
Davina up the spiral stone staircase to the second floor of the keep. The two
women walked through a passage, with only the light from a few pitch torches in
wall sconces lighting the way. Smoke from the torches curled around the ceiling.
Davina stopped at a heavy door and knocked gently. The
gille
opened the door and held it open for
them to enter.

They stepped into a large bedchamber, sparsely but richly
furnished. A fire burned brightly in the enormous fireplace that covered one
wall of the room. Two portraits hung above an oak mantle. One was of a hunter
in full attire with a bow and quiver of arrows. The hunter was dressed in a
great plaide woven in the muted hues of hunting colors held in place by a wide
leather belt with a beaver skin sporran at his waist. A large silver brooch
with a tear-shaped crystal in the center attached the plaide at his shoulder. A
bonnet of the same colors with a silver Munro badge pinned to the front fit snugly
atop dark, shoulder-length hair. The broad face with high cheekbones sported a
spade-shaped black beard. Grey eyes peered from under heavy dark brows. Two
large spotted hounds stood close to his stockinged legs. Maidie thought she
must be looking at a portrait of Laird Andrew, but the man seemed older.

The second portrait was that of a delicately featured,
chestnut-haired young woman with hazel eyes and alabaster skin dressed in a
low-cut, red silk gown. She wore a jacket of matching red leather, the outside
facings and cuffs trimmed in sable fur. Her thick hair, parted in the middle,
was combed back with a red caplet covering the bun. Earbobs of soft white
pearls adorned her ears, and rings graced the forefinger and third finger of
each delicate hand.

The lady’s left hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy
dressed in a belted plaide of muted reds, greens, and blues, secured at the
shoulder with a large silver brooch. He wore a fitted black leather jacket with
the crisp collar and cuffs of a white linen
léine
showing at the neck and sleeves. White wool stockings held securely by a red
garter covered his legs with black brogans on his feet. The boy’s black hair
was tied in a queue, and his grey eyes bore a serious look.

“’Tis a portrait of our father and our mither with Andrew,”
Davina said. “She died before Gavin and I could have our portraits painted with
her.” Maidie heard the sadness in the young voice.

She turned to the lass, searching her youthful face. “You
favor your mither, Lady Davina.”

“Aye, so everyone says. Even in her ways, I’m told.” The lady
stood transfixed, gazing at the portraits.

Maidie continued looking around the chamber. A large
intricately carved, highly polished wooden trunk gleamed on either side of the
fireplace. The carvings on the lids of the trunks were of birds, flowers, trees
and animals overlaying one atop the other. The trunks probably held the chief’s
clothing. Two leather-backed chairs sat before the fire with an oak table
between them. A cut-glass decanter and two goblets graced an ebony tray atop
the table.

Davina turned away from the portraits and caught Maidie by the
arm again, pulling her to the side of a large four-poster bed with heavy
curtains hanging from the top rail. “You must see about Andrew now.”

The
gille
pushed a curtain aside, exposing the chief’s
limp body covered with a single quilt. His large arms lay folded across one another
on the outside of the covering. Dark chest hair curled along the top edge.
Maidie put her hand to his forehead. It felt hot.

She turned to the servant. “Get a bowl of cool water, and
begin washing his face, chest, and arms until the fever breaks. Change the
water often so it stays cool.” Davina bent over her brother and felt his
forehead. “All we can do now, Lady Davina, is wait and see if he survives and
the wound heals properly.” Maidie asked the servant, “Do you still have some of
the poppy tea I made earlier?”

“A verra small amount, Madam,” the man replied.

“You are to administer the tea only if he seems to be in a
great deal of pain.” The
gille
nodded.

Maidie searched Andrew’s face and placed a hand on his
forehead. Dark circles lined the cheeks under his eyes. His pale face felt hot
and moist with perspiration, but it no longer had the appearance of death. The
faintest pink tinge appeared on his high cheekbones. His dark eyelashes
twitched at her touch and his hand moved. She thought he might open his eyes,
but he did not.

“Come, Maidie. The servants and I will take care of Andrew. You
must rest now.” Davina placed her hand on Maidie’s elbow.

With one last look at the injured laird, Maidie turned to
follow Andrew’s sister from the chamber and down the passage to another door
just two down from the chief’s. They entered to find an elaborately furnished
chamber with a long gilded mirror, trunk for storing clothing, and another
large four-poster bed with embroidered damask curtains hanging from the upper
railings. A wooden tub with steaming water sat beside the ornate fireplace.
Several towels lay in a pile near the tub with a piece of soap on top. Surely,
this was the chamber for important guests. She felt honored to be allowed to
stay in such a place.

Davina opened the door when a knock sounded. A maidservant
entered with a kettle of steaming water. Davina turned to leave. “I’ll leave you
to your bathing. You will find a gown and robe on the bed, with slippers
beneath. Sven will arrive soon, so dinna be too long.”

Maidie went to the lady. “Thank you. I feel honored to be your
guest and stay in such a fine chamber.”

“You’ve done a great deed for my brother this day. The entire
clan is in your debt.” She took Maidie’s hand. “Thank you.”

Maidie looked into the depths of Davina’s eyes and didn’t know
how to answer. She had no pleasure in attending the wounded or burying the dead
after a battle. She did what she could; sometimes a life was saved, and
sometimes a life lost.

“I’ll be praying for your brother and all of the wounded,” she
told Davina.

“So will I. Thank you for your prayers.” Davina took her hand
from Maidie’s and left the chamber.

Maidie turned her thoughts to the pleasant task of relaxing in
a hot tub of scented water and bathing her tired body. The maidservant assisted
with removing the soiled, bloodstained woolen skirt, vest, and linen blouse.
She gently pulled Maidie’s chemise down over her waist so she could step out of
it and helped Maidie into the tub of steaming water. Strong hands assisted the
tired woman in washing her hair and body, and pouring warm water over her head
for rinsing. The maid helped Maidie get out of the tub, then dry off and dress.
She had not experienced such gentle touching and tender care from another since
leaving her father’s house and felt like a privileged lady of Fàrdach Castle.

“Madam, if you will sit in the chair beside the fire, I’ll
comb your hair before it tangles.” The maid fetched a comb made of bone from a
nearby table, while Maidie settled in the wooden chair beside the fire. The
woman began combing Maidie’s wet hair.

“What is your name?” she asked the maid.

“My name’s Nellie, Madam. Alan is my husband. He’s the warrior
whose leg you stitched.” Nellie gave Maidie’s hair one last stroke with the
comb, and then returned it to the table. She turned back the pale yellow
comforter and quilts of the bed and fluffed the down pillows.

“You’re done now, Madam. Would you wish to get into bed?”

“No, Nellie. I’ll sit by the fire and wait for Sven to arrive.
He may need a bath. I dinna want him to sleep in such a nice bed with a dirty
body.” Nellie hesitated. “I’ll bathe Sven,” Maidie said, “and there’s another
kettle of warm water. That will be all I need for now. Just place the kettle
close to the fire so the water will stay warm.”

Nellie curtsied. “I’ll be leaving you now.”

“Thank you, Nellie. You’re verra kind.” Maidie smiled at the
young woman. The maid returned her smile with dimples showing on each rosy
cheek. Maidie thought Nellie to be very pretty.

Nellie opened the door, but turned around before leaving. “Will
you come to see about Alan on the morrow? He’s resting in our bed, but I would
feel so much better if you would have another look at his wounds.”

“Certainly. Come early and show me to your chamber.” How could
Maidie deny a request from such a kind and gentle maid who was concerned about
her husband?

Chapter Three

“Mam!” Sven pushed past Nellie and
rushed into Maidie’s arms.

She gave her son a hug and kiss to the forehead. “Did you have
a good time with Phillip?”

“Yes, and Sir Gavin let me ride a horse all the way to town.”
Excitement rang in the lad’s voice.

“But you dinna ken how to ride a horse.” Maidie held her son
at arm’s length and looked into his green eyes. He had the same red hair and
freckles of his father and favored him so, Maidie could not help but hug the
lad again, holding him close. Her heart cried for Kenneth and his arms around
her.

“Sir Gavin showed me how. We rode slow because of Randal being
in the ox cart.”

Maidie buried her head on Sven’s shoulder. Tears welled in her
eyes as the pent-up emotions of the day burst forth. “Oh Sven. Oh Sven,” was
all she could say.

He stroked her hair. “It’s all right, Mam. I didn’t get hurt.
Sir Gavin is real kind.” Sven pushed away to look into her eyes. “And he likes
Flora. He gave her a kiss when he started to leave and didn’t ken I was
watching.”

Maidie’s breath caught in her throat. She suspected Flora had
a beau, but had no idea the man was Gavin Munro. What was Flora thinking? The
tanist’s reputation as a playboy was well known throughout the region. He had
been seen with several of the local lasses, including widows of warriors killed
fighting for the clan. One young lass, Shirley, claimed Gavin as father of her
son. After she was found pregnant with no husband, a marriage had been arranged
with a young man named Fergus, but the villagers knew the tanist to be the
bairn’s father.

“That will be a secret between us. Dinna tell anyone else what
you saw.” Maidie knew Sven would keep the secret as well as a small boy could.
Sometimes he forgot and told things he shouldn’t, but mayhap he would forget
the incident soon enough.

Sven shook his red head. “I’ll nae tell. You can be sure.”

Maidie kissed a freckle on the tip of her son’s turned up
nose. “Be sure you dinna tell Phillip.” Sven shook his head again. “Now come ‘tis
time for your bath. The water should still be warm enough.”

Maidie rose and led Sven to the tub. She felt the tepid water
and decided to add more from the kettle beside the fire. She helped Sven
undress and step into the bath. The lad looked thinner with his ribs more
visible. Sven needed more meat in his diet, but she didn’t know how or where to
get it. She would have to help him hunt for hares and other small animals they
could kill with stones and a small dirk. Someday when Sven was older, she would
buy him a bow and have one of the local men teach him to use it.

Maidie washed her son’s body and hair with the sweet smelling
soap.

“I dinna like that soap, Mam. It smells like roses,” Sven
complained.

“Well, ‘tis all we have. You must use it. Wanna hurt you to
smell like roses for a while. ‘Tis better than smelling like a dirty boy.”

A frown broke across the wee mouth. “Ugh! I hate the smell of
roses.”

“Stop complaining. You’re getting a nice bath and a wonderful
bed to sleep in. Be thankful, Sven. We wanna always have these comforts.”
Maidie poured water from the kettle over the his head to rinse it. She helped him
rise from the tub, step out, and dry with a towel. “I hate you have to put on
these same dirty clothes. Mayhap there is a nightshirt or some other sleeping
garment in the chest.”

Maidie left Sven wrapped in the towel, went to the chest, and
opened the lid. Inside lay the prettiest light blue silk gown she had ever
seen. The neck was outlined in small pearls and beads of a darker blue. She
dared not unfold the gown or bother the beautiful garment in any way, so she
closed the chest just as a knock sounded on the door. Maidie opened the door a
small way to see who knocked. She didn’t want a cold draft of air to come in on
Sven. Nellie stood outside in the hallway with a bundle of clothing in her
arms.

“Madam, I have a nightshirt for the lad, and fresh clothing for
the two of you to wear on the morrow.”