My Highland Bride (8 page)

The words “
go down to hall”
effectively killed her appetite. Kenna nervously tapped a finger along the ridge running around the edge of the plate. “What’s that going to be like?” She pushed the plate a few inches away and looked up at Coira.

Coira frowned down at the plate, slid it back closer to Kenna, and thumped her finger atop the table. “Ye must eat. Yer already so tiny a good gust of Highland wind will blow yer arse into the sea.”

“I’ll eat after you fill me in about this ‘
hall’
business
.
Granny said I could trust you. I need to know what to expect…how to act.” Kenna swallowed hard. She needed to know what she was up against before she faced the reality of the thirteenth century. As time runners, they had all visited various epochs of time. Granny had jumped them all over the web not only as part of their education on how to maneuver through time but to broaden their knowledge of history in general.

She’d always been able to follow Trulie and Granny’s lead when it came to temporarily blending into whatever culture they came across. This time she was on her own. Trulie was understandably indisposed and Granny was busy helping with new baby Chloe. Coira was her only hope for help with thirteenth-century dining and socializing etiquette.

Coira leaned hard against the short-bladed knife slicing through the wedge of cheese. “Dinna fash yerself. Ye’ll be dressed proper and all will know ye as the chieftain’s good sister. Ye’ll be fine, I reckon.”

“That’s no help.” Kenna pinched off a corner of the bannock and popped it in her mouth. She shook her head against the small chunk of cheese Coira proffered. “No, thank you. The biscuit is plenty.”

“ ‘Bannock.’ ” Coira pronounced the word slowly, as though Kenna were a child learning how to talk. “Now eat a bit o’ cheese. That corner of bread ye pinched away wouldna properly feed a wee rat.”

“You’re a nag.” Kenna snatched the cheese out of Coira’s fingers and nibbled at the pungent, waxy chunk.

Coira’s face lit up with a proud smile. “Aye. I am that.” She cut off another wedge of cheese and put it on the plate beside the bannock. “Now eat while I fold back yer bed. When ye rise from yer wee nap, I’ll brush out yer hair, wash ye good, and dress ye.”

“Great,” Kenna said as she pinched off another bit of bread. Then she snorted out a disgruntled huff. “Just what I need—an honorary, bossy sister.”

“Hie yerself now and eat yer fill,” Coira called from the other room. “Yer bed’s awaitin’, and I’ll warrant ye’ll sleep for a fortnight from the look o’ those weary smudges ’neath yer eyes.”

“Lovely.” Kenna emptied her cup and brushed the crumbs from her fingers as she stood. Not only was Coira bossy…she was brutally honest. Kenna yawned and stretched as she headed to the private bedchamber. Maybe life would be a lot less daunting after
a “fortnight”
of sleep.

Chapter 9

“Up wi’ ye, mistress.” Coira ripped aside the heavy tapestry covering the window beside the bed, flooding the cozy room with bright sunlight. “Ye’ve slept a full day and a night and ’tis nearly time for this day’s midday meal. Up wi’ ye now. ’Tis time ye rose from yer bed.”

Kenna burrowed her face deeper into the feather pillow, squinting against the blinding light. She’d slept a full day and a night and halfway into another? No way. Rolling to put her back to the sun, Kenna rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time did you say it was? What day?”

Coira yanked the bedclothes down to the foot of the bed, looped a hand through Kenna’s elbow, and tugged. “The sun’s nearly to its highest point. Come now. I’ve brought ye proper clothing but we’ve a bit o’ scrubbing to do first.”

Kenna eyed the large stoneware bowl and pitcher waiting on the table where she’d had her meal before she’d gone to bed.
Lovely.
She cringed as she ran her tongue across her teeth and stood. “First things first. I really need to visit the…” What the hell did they call the bathroom in this era? She made her way to the end of the bed, lifted the heavy lid of the great, black chest, and fished out her fanny pack from its depths.
Garderobe. That’s it!
“I need to visit the garderobe and then I’ve got to brush my teeth. I can’t stand morning funk breath.”

Coira froze and fixed her with a wide-eyed look as she held the pitcher cocked above the basin. “Mornin’
what
?”

“Morning funk breath. You know—where your teeth feel kind of furry and stale when you first get up in the morning?” Kenna caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. She could tell by the dubious look on Coira’s face that the maid thought she’d lost her mind. Uneasiness settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
I’m really going to have to watch what I say.
“Uhm…the garderobe?”

“ ’Tis quite a ways down the hall to the other side of the tower.” Coira crouched beside the bed and pulled free a gleaming white pot that greatly resembled a stoneware bucket fitted with the handle of a teapot. “Use the chamber pot so we can be about gettin’ ye washed up and refreshed.”

Kenna stared down at the pot.
Seriously?
She’d squatted behind the barn back in Kentucky, but she’d never squatted over a pot—indoors—with a total stranger in the room.

“Go on now. I’ve yer water ready. Strip down and take yer piss, then I’ll wash ye good and proper.” Coira scurried to the other side of the bed, yanking free the bedclothes as she rounded the mattress.

Sucking in a deep breath, Kenna nudged the pot between her bare feet and duckwalked it to the other side of the nightstand up against the wall; she just couldn’t stand the thought of touching it with her hands. Beside the table and with her back to the wall, she stood a better chance at tricking herself into thinking she had a little bit of privacy. She stole one last glance at Coira bustling about the room, then peeled off her soft white tank top and shed her favorite pair of silky white bikinis. She squatted down over the pot and waited. Nothing happened.
Come on.
Her shy, overfull bladder refused.
Running water. Running water. Tinkle. Tinkle. Tinkle.
She concentrated on running water and lovely white toilets—with seats.
Finally. Success.

Crossing one arm over her bare breasts and keeping the other hand shielding her crotch, Kenna skipped across the room and backed up to the hearth. “I guess I’ll brush my teeth after I wash so I’ll have a place to spit.” Why the hell was she telling that to Coira?
Because I’m not used to standing naked and having someone I barely know wash me.

Coira bobbed her head in agreement. “Aye, mistress. That’s what yer sister usually does.” She soused a cloth in the water, then wrung it out. She smiled and nodded as she spread the cloth across one hand. “Stretch out yer arms.”

Kenna bit her lip and closed her eyes as Coira vigorously scrubbed her from head to toe with the icy water. When she’d nearly decided that Coira was determined to remove at least two layers of skin, the scrubbing finally stopped. She opened her eyes just as Coira came at her with a drying cloth.

“Now then. All clean. Do ye no’ feel refreshed?” Coira’s voice shook as she patted Kenna down with quick, efficient strokes of the cloth.

“Absolutely.” Kenna finally twisted free of Coira’s ministrations. “I’m good.” Scampering across the room, she scooped up a pale linen dress from the back of a chair and slid it over her head. At least now she could brush her teeth without feeling so…on display. Her mood lightened considerably once her mouth was minty fresh. She looked to Coira. “Now what?”

“Now yer overdress, stockings, and shoes. Then I’ll braid yer hair.” Coira slipped a deep green dress over Kenna’s head and tugged it down into place. “There now. I knew this color would suit ye fine.” She wrapped a long leather belt, fringed on the ends, below Kenna’s waist and fastened it at the front so it rested across the top of her hips, accentuating the long smooth lines of the gown. Bending down, she deftly tugged first one stocking and then the other up to Kenna’s thighs, tugged the ribbons tight, and tied them. A velvety soft pair of doeskin shoes came last.

Kenna wiggled her toes and tugged the bell-shaped sleeves of the overdress straighter across the linen sleeves of her shift. Smoothing her hands down the nubby weave of the dress, she padded across the room and took a seat beside the hearth. The snug ties of her stockings cut into her thighs and the seams bunched beneath her toes. She forced herself to sit still as Coira combed back her hair. This was going to take some getting used to. Thirteenth-century apparel and style were a far cry from jeans, T-shirts, and ponytails.

“Ouch!” Kenna flinched and leaned forward. “Give me the comb. I’ll do it.” If Coira kept yanking so hard, she’d end up bald.

“Och now, dinna fret so. Ye’ve got a bit of a rat’s nest that needs combin’ free.” Coira firmly pulled her back into place and set to combing and tugging with hard quick strokes. “Lore a’mighty, I’ve ne’er seen such a headful of curls.” Coira swept Kenna’s hair up off her neck, then paused and leaned around to look her in the eye. “And no lady of this keep has e’er combed her own hair, so get that thought right out of yer head.”

“To keep my mind off the fact that you’re scalping me”—Kenna flinched again at a particularly painful yank—“why don’t you tell me what’s expected of me when I go downstairs.” Maybe if she kept Coira talking, the maid would go a bit easier on her hair.

“A banquet’s been set for all the visitors who’ve come to celebrate the comin’ of the wee bairn.” Coira dropped the comb to the table beside them and set to braiding Kenna’s hair. “Yer an honored guest, so ye’ll be seated at the chieftain’s table.” She yanked and wove, then yanked some more before knotting and twisting the resulting long braid into a bun at the back of Kenna’s neck. “Enjoy yer food and drink.” She patted Kenna on the shoulders, then came around to face her. “All will welcome ye. Yer the chieftain’s good sister.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Kenna slowly rose, frowning back at her softly blurred reflection in the polished metal disk Coira held in front of her. “But I guess there’s no avoiding it.”

“Ye’ll be fine, mistress.” Coira fussed with a stubborn curl at Kenna’s temple, then beamed an encouraging smile. “Ye look lovely, and ye’ll be just fine.”

Chapter 10

Finally.
He’d begun to wonder if the lady would e’er descend from her rooms. Colum worked his way across the crowded hall, hurrying to the archway leading to the chieftain’s private tower. Lady Kenna stood in the center of the doorway. Her gaze darted nervously about the bustling room as she twisted the fringed ends of her belt between her hands.
Poor lass. She looks as though ready to bolt back up the stairs
.

“Lady Kenna, allow me t’lead ye to yer seat at the chieftain’s table.” Colum held out his arm and prayed the woman would take it this time without hesitation. The memory of the intoxicating sting triggered by her earlier touch awakened an ache for more. He yearned for the feel of her, longed for her closeness, even if it was merely the soft weight of her hand upon his arm.

Kenna glanced about the noisy hall one more time, then quickly looped her hand up into the crook of his elbow. “Stay close, would you? I didn’t realize so many people were going to be down here.” She nervously yanked at her belted dress and patted the dark braid neatly coiffed at the back of her head.

While Colum missed the mouthwatering view provided by Lady Kenna’s clothing from the future, a part of him was relieved she’d changed to attire better suited to a gentle lady of the clan. The others had no need to see the Lady Kenna as he had. A sense of ownership urged Colum to protectively cup his hand atop Kenna’s slightly trembling fingers.
Aye.
Her fine tight trews were his memory alone, since none but Galen had seen them arrive and that man would ne’er slander his chieftain’s kin.

Colum curled Kenna’s arm closer to his side. The warm silk of her touch stirred his blood even hotter this time.
God’s beard.
He’d ne’er felt this drawn to a lass before.
Aye.
He’d do anything to protect her from anything she feared. “I’ll no’ leave yer side unless ye bid me do so.” As the words left his lips, Colum felt a satisfied note of finality, as though he’d just made a verra precious vow.

Kenna peeped around him like a newborn colt hiding behind its mother. “Are they all here because of the baby or are there always this many people at the keep?” Her gaze rose to the second-floor gallery running the length of one side of the hall. “Even the balcony is full.”

Colum chuckled as he led her to the far end of the hall and the wide stone dais holding the main table. “The clan has anxiously awaited this verra special day. A healthy child born to the chief is cause for great celebration. All have come to wish him and the Lady Trulie well. Many were here the last time when nothing could be done but console their chieftain and his wife as they mourned the loss of their son.”

Kenna’s face fell, and she shuddered with a heavy sigh. “I understand. I wish I could’ve been here to help Trulie. I’m sure it was a terrible time.”

Colum reluctantly released Lady Kenna’s hand from his arm, then gallantly pulled free one of the cushioned, high-backed chairs closest to the center of the table. “Here, m’lady.” He gently held her hand until she was seated, then settled the chair closer to the table. “The MacKenna will be down soon t’join ye. I’ll have the lads fill yer cup whilst ye wait.”

As he moved to step to his usual place along the wall beside the MacKenna colors, Kenna looked up at him, panic reflecting in her eyes as her hand darted out and caught hold of his arm. “You’re not leaving me? Here—alone?”

His heart swelled with her words; emotions he’d ne’er felt before washed across him strong and hard like the rush of the incoming tide. “I’ll be right o’er there—standing guard. I canna sit at the chieftain’s table. As man-at-arms, ’tis no’ m’place.”

“Bullshi—” Kenna clamped her mouth shut, then quickly glanced about the room. “I mean…can’t you sit here at least until Gray arrives?” A plotting look creased her brow as she sat a bit taller in her chair and patted the table in front of the empty seat beside her. “Since I’m a guest, aren’t you supposed to make me feel…at ease?”