“Margaret, allow Annie inside before you begin questioning her so thoroughly.” Rory ruffled Margaret’s hair as if they shared a close bond.
Hmm, Annie had said if she hadn’t agreed to the handfast, it would have been Margaret, Rory’s sister who would have been bound to Alex.
“Have a bath drawn and a meal sent to her room,” Rory continued. “Then you may catch up.”
“Aye, I’m so sorry.” Margaret looped her arm through Anne’s then tugged her into the keep.
They entered the great hall, and the men she’d traveled with poured into the room behind her. Those at the tables rose and crowded around them, welcoming Rory, her and the men home. Margaret passed along Rory’s order to one of the maids, then guided her through the throng of well-wishers and up the curved stairs to the second floor.
“I should have had your fire lit when I heard the call Rory’s birlinn approached. I knew he’d found you. He promised he wouldnae return until he had.” Margaret shoved open a chamber door. “Your journey must have been arduous. Where have you been?”
“At Dunscaith, with Alex MacDonald.” Annie’s chamber held a queen-sized bed with a thick canopy drawn around the sides. The rich blue velvet swept onto the polished wooden floors. Gorgeous.
“You were?” Clapping a hand to her mouth, she barely hid her gasp. “That must have been awful. When you first disappeared, Rory scoured the nearby countryside. No one saw you leave, nor was it time for my brother to deliver you to Alex MacDonald. How did you find your way there?”
“It’s hard to—”
A maid hurried in and lit the fire. Two barefoot lads with sooty imprints on the knees of their breeches heaved a tub into the room. Another maid arrived with a drying cloth and bar of soap, and behind her another servant carried a tray. She set it on the side table then one-by-one they left.
“Never mind. Come and eat first. You can tell me everything once you have.” Margaret held out a chair.
“Thank you. I’m so hungry.” Breathing in the wonderful scent of mutton stew, she sat. A chunk of bread wedged half into it made her mouth water. She scooped it up and bit into it. The richly flavored juices exploded in her mouth. Delicious and hot. She ate until her belly could take no more.
“I’ll remove your shoes.” Margaret knelt, tugged her wet boots and soggy stockings free and dumped them in a pile. It had been impossible to keep her feet out of the sea-water sloshing in the boat’s hull. “There we go.”
The maids returned along with the boys, each carrying a steaming pail of water.
Margaret oversaw the filling of the tub then added a few drops of scented oil and a sprinkle of dried petals. “Perfect.” She clapped her hands. “Everyone out.”
They shut the door behind them.
“That looks amazing. Thank you.” With the room now cozy and warm, she shed her dirty riding habit then sank into the glorious water.
“You sound different, but I’ve missed my favorite cousin. Rory was a bear after you first left. He scoured the woods, the village, hunted down any ruffians encamping on our land. He was sure someone had stolen you away. That you’d head for Dunscaith didnae cross his mind until the end. Would you like me to wash your hair?”
“No, but sit and talk with me.” She slid under the water then emerged with a grin. “Oh, that is more than amazing.”
Margaret laughed, her blue eyes sparkling. “Here, I shall help whether you wish it or no’. Your hair is matted something terrible.” She lathered the soap then worked the suds through her hair. “Tell me all about Alex MacDonald. I saw him that time he came with his chief, but from afar.”
“You mean when he signed the agreement?”
“Aye. Dip your head and rinse.” She did, and after she popped up, Margaret carefully detangled her hair with a brush. “’Twas the meeting Rory asked you to attend, to ensure you had no issues with the handfast, though you didnae go.”
“Oh, that meeting. My timing was out.” By centuries no less. “I didn’t mean to miss it.”
“You certainly did.” Margaret snorted. “How did you make the trip unescorted to Dunscaith? I’m surprised that’s the path you chose. You told me divine intervention might be in order, and mayhap you’d even make a wish upon the Fairy Flag.”
Perhaps Margaret was the one she needed, and not Rory. She hadn’t yet had the chance to speak to him. She couldn’t miss this opportunity. “I did wish upon it. Although not me exactly, but Annie.”
“You are Annie.” She plopped the brush down, wrapped her wet hair in a cloth then rubbed.
With an elbow on the edge of the tub, she faced Margaret. “It sounds as if you believe in the fairy blood within the MacLeod line?”
“All MacLeods do.” She tapped her arm as if in reprimand. “Why would you ask such a silly question?”