her sore body over the edge of the bed and stood on shaky legs. As though her maid had been waiting for just that moment, the slightest sound of her arising, there came a soft tap at the door and a call of “My laird?”
Laird? Jenny whipped her head toward the door, staring at the wood as though it would answer her question.
She had claimed her brother’s title and her people had agreed, but then she’d ridden out to battle, and her men had called her Mistress J as they always had. It was clear, at least, that the staff honored her title.
“Come in,” Jenny called.
Sarah opened the door, a beaming smile on her face. “I’m sorry I missed ye last night, but Lady Mackintosh insisted she would aid ye.”
“Dinna fash, Sarah. ’Tis good to see ye.”
Sarah’s eyes went to the bed, and Jenny’s followed to the two dented pillows, the covers flung back from opposite sides. It was obvious that two bodies had slept there. Fortunately, her maid was discreet and said nothing as she quickly refilled the water basin and just as swiftly made up the bed. Without missing a step, she headed to the wardrobe, flinging open the doors and sifting through Jenny’s gowns.
Sarah asked, “What’s proper for a lady laird, I wonder?”
“I suspect the same things that are proper for a lady,” Jenny mused as she cleaned herself up with the water in the basin. It was cold, refreshing. After a night of making love, she was no longer chilled to the bone, but she was still incredibly exhausted.
“What about this?” Sarah pulled a somber-looking day dress from the wardrobe. “Seems serious, does it no’?”
“Aye, verra.”
Jenny allowed the woman to dress her and answered all of her questions about the battle, especially those of her beau, wee Alaric—who was not wee at all but a strapping Highlander who seemed ages above his own.
Outside the bedchamber came Dom’s distinctive low bark accompanied by a bop against the door as he tried to headbutt his way through.
“Somebody’s missed ye an awful lot,” Sarah quipped.
“Aye. I’d best see to him and the rest of the clan.” Jenny needed to pass on her condolences to the families of the men who’d died and assure them that Dirk would bring home their swords, though their bodies would have been buried on the battlefield.
Dressed and with her hound beside her, Jenny hurried below stairs, only to find that everyone had gathered in the great hall to await her.
Fiona’s familiar face was one among the crowd. Jenny greeted her friend warmly, though inside she was a jumble of nerves. “What are ye doing here? I thought ye’d stay with the prince. ’Twas dangerous for ye to travel in such foul weather. Has Annie come too?”
“Nay, she remained behind to aid with the wounded. She’s gained quite a reputation. In fact, the prince even requested her assistance for a sleeping draught and another when he was feeling an ague coming on.”
“That’s fantastic.” Jenny beamed, full of pride for her dear friends who were fulfilling their passions in aiding the prince.
“Aye. And speaking of the prince, I’ve a message for ye, from himself.”
“Oh?” Jenny’s belly flopped somewhere down near her knees. Her feet felt numb, and she wiggled her toes to regain feeling.
“Aye, Laird Mackintosh.” Fiona winked. “The prince is headed north into the Highlands and plans to stay a night or two at Cnàmhan Broch.”
Jenny’s mouth fell open at the news. “Dinna jest with me, old friend.” Though the prince had promised to do so on two occasions, she didn’t expect him to go through with it.
“I dinna jest at all. His entourage will have left Bannockburn just shortly after myself. General Hawley’s men are holding strong at Edinburgh, and so the prince wishes to winter in the north to gain more confidence among his troops.”
“We are to host the prince.” Jenny was breathless with excitement. “We have much to do.”
“Aye. And is there no’ some news ye wish me to bring to your allies, Laird Mackintosh? It’d be my honor to share.”
“Aye. Tell those who were no’ at Falkirk that the prince was victorious and rides north. They need to be prepared to bring their support should their regent grace them with his presence.”
* * *
For two weeks, the Highlands were quiet. The dragoons seemed to have disappeared, except for some who Toran knew were still occupying the garrison. Thankfully, fewer than there used to be. They were still holding prisoners, and men