Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,64
good deal better than he did at the moment. Which was why he’d requested a bath as part of their negotiations.
Nonetheless, it was with reluctance that he extricated his hand from hers and stepped back to allow her to leave.
Just before he lowered his gaze, he thought he glimpsed a hint of regret in her eyes. And though she addressed him with dignity, there was a flustered note in her voice. “About your bath… I’ll have… I’ll have…”
“Bart?”
“Aye, Bart. I’ll send him up after supper.”
“My thanks.” As she gave him a curt nod and swept toward the door, he added, “Ye won’t be sorry.”
As she hurried out the door, he grimaced.
Ye won’t be sorry?
Those weren’t exactly the words of a gallant diplomat.
He sighed. Battle strategy he knew. But he was unpracticed at peace negotiations. They were going to be a challenge. He would have to take his time. Temper his thoughts. Tame his tongue. All while in the presence of a formidable Valkyrie.
“Oh, nay, you won’t,” Hallie commanded.
Isabel scurried around their bedchamber with a wicker basket full of linen cloths and sponges. She pilfered several tallow candles and vials of herbs and oils from the table, tucking them into the basket.
“But someone has to scrub his back,” Isabel replied with a shrug.
“Scrub his…” Hallie grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Not you, Isabel. We have maidservants for that.”
Isabel glared pointedly at her arm, still in Hallie’s grip, until Hallie was shamed into releasing her.
“Burunild is assisting the midwife,” Isabel informed her. “Abygail has gone to visit her sister. Hilda is caring for her new babe. Gillian is ill with a fever. And the rest have gone to bed.”
“Gone to bed?”
Isabel shrugged. “You kept them quite busy today.”
That was true. Hallie believed that idle hands caused misbehavior, especially when it came to Isabel’s companions. She sighed, then grumbled, “Bloody hell, he’s a grown man. I’m sure he can scrub his own back.”
Isabel’s jaw dropped. “’Tis a matter of common courtesy, Hallie. You know that. Rivenloch has a reputation to uphold. If word got out that we’d left a guest unattended at his bath…” She shuddered.
“Rivenloch’s reputation isn’t built on our bathing services.”
“But such rudeness is a… What’s the word you taught me? A travesty.” Isabel shrugged. “Besides, I don’t mind doing the task.”
“That’s my point, Isabel.”
“What?”
“I’m sure you don’t mind at all,” Hallie said, inexplicably irritated. “Your friends are doubtless awaiting your salacious gossip.”
“Salacious?” She blinked. “What does that mean?”
Hallie cooed in imitation of Isabel’s friends, “Oh, Isabel, tell us all about the Highlander. How tall is he? Are those muscles real? Just how broad is his back?” There was more, but she wouldn’t go down that path with her little sister.
“What if I promise to keep my eyes closed?” Isabel offered.
Hallie let out an all-suffering sigh. This was ridiculous. There was no way she was going to allow her virtuous little sister to bathe a naked, healthy, warm-blooded Highlander.
“Give me that,” she muttered, grabbing for the basket.
Isabel pulled it out of her reach. “But Hallie—”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave you alone with a hostile hostage.”
She made another grab for the basket, catching one side of the handle.
But Isabel wouldn’t let go of it. “Didn’t you say you agreed to a pact of peace? So he’s not hostile.”
“Give me that basket,” Hallie warned, tugging harder.
“Nay.” She refused to put her little sister in harm’s way. It was too risky.
“But Hallie…”
“Nay. And that’s final.”
Isabel stamped her foot, but she still clung to the basket. “No one else is available for the task. And his bath is growin’ cold.”
Surely someone was available. Hallie racked her brains.
At waging war, she was an expert. At managing the household, she was highly efficient. But mastering the fine details of hospitality had always seemed a pointless pursuit.
Nonetheless, as laird, it was up to her to solve the problem. And in the end, she resorted to what always happened when she was unable to get cooperation from others. She took matters into her own hands.
Seeing no other course of action and cursing herself for a fool, Hallie muttered, “I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll do it.”
Isabel stifled a laugh. “You?”
Her scorn seared Hallie like the kiss of a hot coal. She pinned Isabel with an icy glare. “Aye. Why not?”
“Oh Hallie,” Isabel argued, her patronizing voice full of pity, “you don’t have a woman’s touch. You might as well send Sir Rauve to do the task.”