Page 6 of A Laird and a Gentleman

“Why?” Her chin came up. “If you mean to humble me, then what better way than to force me to ruin one of my gowns?”

He could easily buy her ten new gowns and she knew it, but he allowed the barb meant to make him feel guilt slide past him. He would yield to whatever power she still possessed—the power of her words.

“Get started then.”

*

Mariam froze at the doorway to the lady’s chapel. Cobwebs blocked her from entering until she burned them away with the brace of candles in her hand. The chamber stretched before her, coated in a thick layer of dust with trails of cobwebs everywhere, making her wonder just how many spiders lived in the darkened corners.

“You want me to clean this?” she asked, unable to disguise the dismay that threatened. “I’ve lived here a year and I never knew you had a lady’s chapel.”

Beside her, Cameron appraised her with a careful, bland expression. “No one wants to clean it, so no one uses it.”

“This place is a disaster.” Distress echoed in her words and around the empty chamber.

“Disaster or not, this is what you are tasked with doing. And when you are done, the chapel will be available for your use.”

Mariam studied Cameron instead of the filthiness around them. He looked so out of place, dressed as he was in a fashionably slashed black doublet, with black breeches, black boots, and a long, lethal sword strapped to his side. He appeared dark and dangerous. Different from the man she’d known a week ago, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had changed.

She couldn’t really blame him for the change. They’d both changed. Adversity did that to people. From her experience, it didn’t make them stronger . . . just different. He’d learned that not even his association with the king could keep him or his brothers-in-arms safe. And she had learned that no matter how hard she tired, she could not escape the tendency toward evil she had inherited from her father.

And despite the changes in them both, and the indisputable evidence of her own bad behavior, Cameron offered her this final chance at redemption.

“You have until nightfall to do the task no one else wanted to do,” Cameron said, his voice firm.

Mariam stiffened. “What?” Her uneasy gaze darted about the chamber then back to Cameron. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, Mariam.” His lips twisted in a bittersweet smile as he handed her a broom. “I will send Mistress MacInnes up here with all the other supplies you will need. In the meanwhile, I suggest you start with the cobwebs.”

Desperation tightened Mariam’s chest. “And if I cannot do it?”

“You have one day. Get started.” With those words he left her alone.

Mariam took a step inside the chamber and listened. Nothing scurried in the darkness. She stepped cautiously through the thick dust on the flagstone floor, making her way to the altar where she set the brace of candles. Yellow-gold light spilled through the chamber and banished the shadows into the corners. In the half light, she could make out an arched wooden ceiling and gray stone walls through their dusty coating. The room’s two windows were so coated with dust they no longer let in much light.

She raised her broom to the window on her left and swept the glass with soft but efficient strokes. Dust floated on the air as light brightened the chamber further. Mariam repeated the process with the window in front of the altar, and despite the dust swirling about the chamber, daylight filtered into the room. Next, she got rid of the cobwebs along the peaks of the ceiling and felt a momentary satisfaction.

“Milady?” came a voice from the doorway.

Mariam turned to see the hunched figure of Mistress MacInnes, as well as Petunia and Estella. In their hands they held buckets of water, several rags, and each also had a broom. “Thank you for the supplies. You should probably set all of that in the hallway. I was thinking I should probably sweep the entire room before even attempting to scrub anything down.”

The women did as Mariam had instructed but then they stepped into the chamber with brooms in their hands.

Mariam startled when they began to sweep. “What are you doing?”

“We came to help,” Mistress MacInnes said from beneath the dark lacy veil that partially concealed her face. “There is far too much to be done here in the time Laird Sinclair allotted.”

The older woman’s aura was a vibrant violet, indicating that she was filled with divine wisdom and enlightenment. “This was to be my punishment and my humiliation,” Mariam said.

A lopsided smile pulled up the corner of Mistress MacInnes’s mouth. “The laird is out in the lists with his men. He will be there for a time, so the girls and I thought we might help.”

A sudden warmth filled Mariam’s chest. The feeling was so foreign she gasped at the sensation. “You would help me? Why?”

“Because we have all failed to do what was right at one time or another. Why should we hold you to a different standard than ourselves?” the older woman said. Behind her Petunia and Estella nodded their heads, their eyes illuminated with such caring that Mariam was unable to look away.

“I don’t know what to say . . . except thank you.”

“That is enough,” Mistress MacInnes said with a nod.