Free My Highland Bride by Maeve Greyson

Coira pronounced the word slowly, as though Kenna were a child learning how to talk. “Now eat a bit o’ cheese. That corner of bread ye pinched away wouldna properly feed a wee rat.”
    “You’re a nag.” Kenna snatched the cheese out of Coira’s fingers and nibbled at the pungent, waxy chunk.
    Coira’s face lit up with a proud smile. “Aye. I am that.” She cut off another wedge of cheese and put it on the plate beside the bannock. “Now eat while I fold back yer bed. When ye rise from yer wee nap, I’ll brush out yer hair, wash ye good, and dress ye.”
    “Great,” Kenna said as she pinched off another bit of bread. Then she snorted out a disgruntled huff. “Just what I need—an honorary, bossy sister.”
    “Hie yerself now and eat yer fill,” Coira called from the other room. “Yer bed’s awaitin’, and I’ll warrant ye’ll sleep for a fortnight from the look o’ those weary smudges ’neath yer eyes.”

    “Lovely.” Kenna emptied her cup and brushed the crumbs from her fingers as she stood. Not only was Coira bossy…she was brutally honest. Kenna yawned and stretched as she headed to the private bedchamber. Maybe life would be a lot less daunting after a “fortnight” of sleep.

Chapter 9
    “Up wi’ ye, mistress.” Coira ripped aside the heavy tapestry covering the window beside the bed, flooding the cozy room with bright sunlight. “Ye’ve slept a full day and a night and ’tis nearly time for this day’s midday meal. Up wi’ ye now. ’Tis time ye rose from yer bed.”
    Kenna burrowed her face deeper into the feather pillow, squinting against the blinding light. She’d slept a full day and a night and halfway into another? No way. Rolling to put her back to the sun, Kenna rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time did you say it was? What day?”
    Coira yanked the bedclothes down to the foot of the bed, looped a hand through Kenna’s elbow, and tugged. “The sun’s nearly to its highest point. Come now. I’ve brought ye proper clothing but we’ve a bit o’ scrubbing to do first.”
    Kenna eyed the large stoneware bowl and pitcher waiting on the table where she’d had her meal before she’d gone to bed. Lovely. She cringed as she ran her tongue across her teeth and stood. “First things first. I really need to visit the…” What the hell did they call the bathroom in this era? She made her way to the end of the bed, lifted the heavy lid of the great, black chest, and fished out her fanny pack from its depths. Garderobe. That’s it! “I need to visit the garderobe and then I’ve got to brush my teeth. I can’t stand morning funk breath.”
    Coira froze and fixed her with a wide-eyed look as she held the pitcher cocked above the basin. “Mornin’ what ?”
    “Morning funk breath. You know—where your teeth feel kind of furry and stale when you first get up in the morning?” Kenna caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. She could tell by the dubious look on Coira’s face that the maid thought she’d lost her mind. Uneasiness settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. I’m really going to have to watch what I say. “Uhm…the garderobe?”

    “ ’Tis quite a ways down the hall to the other side of the tower.” Coira crouched beside the bed and pulled free a gleaming white pot that greatly resembled a stoneware bucket fitted with the handle of a teapot. “Use the chamber pot so we can be about gettin’ ye washed up and refreshed.”
    Kenna stared down at the pot. Seriously? She’d squatted behind the barn back in Kentucky, but she’d never squatted over a pot—indoors—with a total stranger in the room.
    “Go on now. I’ve yer water ready. Strip down and take yer piss, then I’ll wash ye good and proper.” Coira scurried to the other side of the bed, yanking free the bedclothes as she rounded the mattress.
    Sucking in a deep breath, Kenna nudged the pot between her bare feet and duckwalked it to the other side of the nightstand