Free Bond of Passion by Bertrice Small Page B

life.”
    “Aye,” Jean agreed. “It’s a perfect choice for ye.” She set out the two garments. “Let’s go and see how yer bath is coming along now.”
    She led the way to another room, where Annabella was surprised to see a large square stone tub half-sunk into the floor of the chamber. There was a fireplace with a hot fire burning in it on the wall opposite the tub. There were two doors: the one they had entered through, and another. Annabella was surprised to see a maidservant taking bucket after steaming bucket from an opening in the wall and dumping it into the tub.
    “’Tis Angus’s invention,” Jean explained. “These were once his mother’s rooms. She loved to bathe. When he became the Earl of Duin he designed this little device to bring hot water to her from the kitchens so the servants did not have to run and up and down, spilling half the water by the time they reached their destination. He made her a separate bathing chamber with a fixed tub. The pump at one end of the tub gives only cold water, but the tub has a drain that can be opened to empty the tub directly into the sea.” She walked over to the tub, looked in, and said to the little maidservant, “A dozen more buckets should do it. When it is ready call me, and I will mix the cold water into it for my lady.”
    The servant nodded, and, opening the second door, Jean led Annabella into her bedchamber. It was a lovely chamber with a large bed hung with rose-colored velvet. She saw her trunk was already there, but the space was also furnished with tables, chairs, and a chest. The fireplace was flanked by stone fairies with sweet faces and dainty wings. The windows overlooking the sea were also hung with rose-colored velvet and had a window seat with a tufted cushion. She had never seen such a beautiful room.
    With Jean’s help, Annabella divested herself of her garments, her boots, and her stockings, which after several days’ travel seemed to be welded to her feet. The tiring woman now hurried back into the bathing chamber, and Annabella heard the sound of water gushing.
    “It’s ready now,” Jean called. “Ye can come in now.”
    Naked, Annabella walked into the bathing chamber and got into the stone tub. It was long enough for her to actually sit down and stretch her legs out. The water flowed up to her chin, and was fragrant. “God’s mercy,” she breathed with a sigh. “Surely something this marvelous has to be a sin.”
    Jean laughed. “Despite what the priests and the pastors of the new kirk say, I think being clean is no vanity.”
    There was an alabaster jar of sweet-smelling soft soap on the narrow rim of the tub. Annabella loosened her hair, dunked her head beneath the hot water, and, taking a handful of the soap, she washed her long black tresses. When she had finished she wrung her hair free of excess moisture and, taking a pin from Jean, affixed her hair atop her head. Then she washed her body thoroughly. The fragrance from the soap was astonishing in its seductive elegance.
    “Who made this soap, and what is the fragrance?” she asked Jean as she finally finished her bath.
    “My mother makes it with ingredients she imports from Provence,” Jean said. “The scent she chose for ye was that of moonflowers, because she said if ye were indeed a plain lass, ye would need an extravagant perfume to make ye memorable. Moonflowers bloom only at night in the light of the moon. The earl’s mama preferred the fragrance of violets, for it reminded her of her home in Brittany.” As Annabella stood up, Jean held out a large, warm drying cloth for her mistress to wrap herself in. “Come and sit by the fire so we may dry your lovely hair.” She led her to the bedchamber, handing Annabella another drying cloth so she might get the moisture from her long hair. Then she gave her a silver hairbrush fitted with boar’s bristles.
    Annabella sat quietly, drawing the brush slowly through her damp hair. The heat from the fire felt