Free An English Bride In Scotland by Lynsay Sands Page B

her arm as Annabel stepped out of the tub.
    Annabel allowed her to lead her to one of the chairs by the fireplace. There was no fire, but it was summer, and one wasn’t really necessary. She was silent at first as Seonag pulled a brush through her hair, but then began to ask questions. Annabel knew nothing about her new husband, her new home, or the people in it, and it did seem that arming herself with information was a good idea, so she asked, “Was my husband close to his mother?”
    “Oh, aye. He worshipped his mother,” Seonag assured her. “Lady Magaidh was a very special lady. Everyone loved her. She knew everyone’s name from the cook down to the lowliest servant. And she ran this keep like a dream.” Seonag sighed wistfully. “ ’Twas a sad day indeed when she died.”
    Annabel frowned. She had no doubt that she would not gain such lauding from anyone on her running of the keep. She didn’t even know what was involved. What was she expected to do, exactly? Sighing, she let that go for now, and asked, “How did she die?”
    “A chest complaint. At first she just seemed breathless on occasion, but then she seemed to gasp for air and cough a lot. Then she couldn’t even get enough breath to walk about. She had to run the keep from a chair in the great hall and then from bed, and then she just . . .” Seonag shrugged helplessly and finished, “withered away.”
    Annabel murmured in sympathy and let a moment pass in silence before asking, “And my husband’s father?”
    “Oh, aye, the old laird.” Seonag sighed sadly, the brush slowing in Annabel’s hair. “He died from a sliver.”
    Annabel blinked and turned to stare at her. “A sliver?”
    “Hmm.” Seonag nodded and urged her back around so she could continue brushing her hair. “It got infected. I fussed at him over it, but he waved me away and wouldn’t listen. The truth is I think his heart was so broken from losing Lady Magaidh that he just did no’ care to live,” she added with another sigh. “When a black line started up his arm I knew he was as good as done fer.”
    “Oh dear,” Annabel murmured. Death by sliver. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It was not all that rare, really. At least, not from what she’d been told. Sister Clara, who had worked with her in the stables, had once said that it was often the small wounds that were ignored and left to fester while larger ones claimed all the attention. Sister Clara had not been an oblate. She’d lived a normal life, growing up with her family before marrying and having children. It was only after her children had been married off and her husband had died that she had found her way to the abbey and taken vows. She’d said that life hadn’t been the same without her husband, and she was content to serve God for the rest of her days.
    Sister Clara had taught Annabel a lot. She had been one of a very few bright spots in her life at the abbey. She would miss her . . . and hadn’t even got to say good-bye. The thought made her frown. She hadn’t been allowed to collect anything, and hadn’t been given the chance to say good-bye to anyone . . . Could they not have spared just a couple of moments to do both?
    “Ahhh, that looks lovely.”
    Annabel blinked as Seonag suddenly thrust a hand mirror with a cloudy, slightly warped surface before her. Then she simply stared. Mirrors had not been allowed at the abbey. The abbess said vanity was a sin, and mirrors were a toy of the devil. Whether there was a mirror at Waverly, Annabel couldn’t say. Certainly her mother hadn’t offered her one once she was prepared for her wedding and she hadn’t thought to ask. The only time she’d seen herself ere this was in the surface of the stream she had swum in at the abbey, which reflected a wavy image at best.
    “Do you like it?” Seonag asked, smiling.
    Annabel reached up and touched her hair. Seonag had brushed it dry. It was a shiny, black mass in the reflection and flowed