Page 42 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
“Come now, mistress. Up we go.”
Wearily, Katie lifted her head and the heady feeling of having arrived at her own personal nirvana rushed through her. That was a bathtub. A real big-enough-so-she-could-lie-down-in-it-and-submerge-her-entire-body bathtub. The gloriously hammered metal box that had to have been brought by angels waited for her, steam rising from the water within. “That’s a real bathtub,” she said in a breathy whisper.
“Aye.” Agnes smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Himself had the smithy set to work on it as soon as ye arrived at the keep and they set it up today.”
Ramsay had ordered the bathtub made for her.Damn. This is better than diamonds.
Without hesitation, Katie shucked off her stained chemise and hurried to sink into the heavenly bronze-and-copper receptacle that was filled to the brim with steaming hot water. Every tense knot in her cramping body loosened to an easily bearable level and she reclined back against the tilted end of the tub and closed her eyes.
“Himself is a good man,” she purred as she stretched out her legs and breathed in the steam that smelled faintly of lavender.
“Aye, lass, that he is.” Agnes set to gently combing out Katie’s hair and deftly scrubbing and massaging her scalp. “I’ll speak t’Flora about pullin’ yer braids so tight. Yer poor scalp is red as fire. The wee numpty nearly pulled yer hair out by the roots.”
“Fine…whatever.” Eyes closed and deeply breathing in the soothing steam, Katie would agree to anything right about now.
After Agnes washed her hair then returned her to her lounging position, the softly humming housekeeper moved to the other end of the tub, reached down into the water, and grabbed up Katie’s ankle and started a vigorous massage of her heel and the ball of her foot. “A healer came through these parts and told Old Creada that if ye’ll put pressure on certain parts of the body, ‘twill help ease pains in the other parts. Reckon ’tis true?”
Katie smiled without opening her eyes. “Must be, because my cramps are letting up and my outlook on life is definitely improving.”
“Good.” Agnes rubbed in silence for a long span of time then softly chuckled. “Ne’er ye fear, though about those wicked cramps. Once ye set t’havin’ bairns, ye willna have to tolerate the bleedin’ nearly as often. Always keep a babe in the womb—that’s what ye should do, aye?”
“Aye,” Katie weakly agreed just to appease Agnes. She hadn’t thought about babies. Obviously, she and Ramsay had dodged the bullet this time but what about the next time? Her birth control pills were back in a backpack in the twenty-first century and she wasn’t studied up on medieval birth control.We so have got to get back to North Carolina.For multiple reasons, safe effective birth control being just one of them.
“Ah now…dinna fret yerself, lass. Ye’ll get with a bairn the next time. I’ll ask Old Creada t’make a tea t’open up yer womb, aye?” Agnes frowned as she gently lowered Katie’s foot down into the water and picked the other one up. “And dinna ye let that Gerta, whore that she is, upset ye. Himself willna make the same mistake of layin’ with that filth twice.” Agnes rubbed harder. “ ’Twas a long time ago, ye ken? Himself was but a lad still wet behind the ears. At that age, a man’s cock does all his thinkin’. I’m sure he couldna help himself.”
“Yeah, but what about the boy?” The words had come out of their own volition. But now that she’d said them, she anxiously awaited Agnes’s opinion. The young man, Ramsay’s supposed son, had seemed…nice. A hell of lot nicer than his mother.
The older woman slowly shook her capped head. “I dinna have that answer. ’Tis for Himself and the goddesses t’decide.” She dug the heel of her thumb hard into the ball of Katie’s right foot, twisting it as she spoke. “That boy isna a pureblood from a goddess-blessed union.” Agnes shook her head again. “Just a bastard, he is, and more’s the pity. I hear the lad does his best t’compensate for his mother’s shameful behavior.”
A twinge of sympathy plucked at Katie’s heart as she thought back to the solemn young man standing in the great hall, more than a little humiliated by his mother’s antics. Maybe she and Ramsay could figure out a way to help him and at the same time kick his mother to the curb. Katie closed her eyes and sank down until her chin touched the water.
Yep. I’ll have to think on that. Help the kid but get rid of the bitch.Especially since as soon as the woman had said who she was, Katie had felt a burning surge ofhands off, bitch, he’s mineand the more she thought about it, the more she realized she meant every damn word.
Chapter 18
It was a hot summer day and the shade-free hillside surrounding the keep was filled with sweaty men, boisterous children, and farm animals milling about. Clusters of women were busy tending pots over smoldering fires, mending clothing, and sharing the latest gossip. All occupants of the hillside, both human and beast, had one extremely noticeable thing in common: they all stank to the nth degree and the black mud created by last night’s heavy rain added a damp primordial earthiness to their already intoxicating stench.
Damn—I’ve gone soft.Katie tried to breathe through her mouth. Soap and water hadn’t always been plentiful on archeological digs and some cultures had different definitions of personal hygiene. But it had been a long while since she’d lived under such conditions. Her Princeton students never got this ripe.
Princeton. Wonder if I’ll ever see it again?
The clatter of swords followed by jovial shouts rang out to her left, pulling her back to her current reality. A tingling rush of appreciation andhe’s mineamped up her body temperature by several degrees. There he was. Ramsay. Stripped to the waist. Wielding his sword. Facing off against Brant.
The two looked evenly matched. Katie tensed against a renewed sense of uneasiness churning in her gut. The tussling men were too well-matched. It was almost like looking at Ramsay’s reflection except Brant was a little taller than Ramsay and had a more muscular build.
Katie studied them as she headed toward the field. It soon became clear that whatever muscle or stature Brant had on Ramsay didn’t help the boy when it came to wielding the weapons. Ramsay’s lethality of choice might be the spear, but he was no slouch with a sword and dagger. He easily bested the boy in less than three moves with whatever weapon they chose.
And there was that damn woman. Gerta. Cheering the men on by jumping up and down until her tits popped out of her low neckline like a pair of oversized canteloupes.
I wish I had some duct tape. I’d fix that shit.
“Clan Ross needs to take up donations and get that woman some clothes that fit.” Katie walked faster, dodging children and chickens as she headed toward the patch of ground where several groups of men were testing their skills.
“They left, m’lady.” Flora skittered along beside her, reminding Katie a great deal of a chihuahua trying to keep up with the ground-eating gait of a racehorse. “Every last one of them gone afore sunup this verra mornin’.”
And they left the bitch behind.Katie slowed her long-legged stride out of mercy for Flora. “So Gerta and Brant areourproblem now?”
“Aye.” Flora shooed aside a particularly aggressive goose. “But dinna forget about m’brothers and the cesspit.” A wicked grin lit Flora’s freckled face and sparkled in her clear blue eyes. “All ye need do is give the word.”
