Free Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] by Border Moonlight

And,” she added with a near challenging look at Simon, “I shall insist that he bring his family, particularly his daughters, and spend a fortnight or longer with us.”
    “Ask him to bring his sons, too, madam,” Rosalie said with a merry twinkle. “If Simon decides not to marry an Englishwoman, mayhap one of my Percy cousins will form a desire to marry me. I am old enough and fast growing older. Moreover, I think it would be most interesting to live in England.”
    Lady Murray patted Rosalie’s arm as she said, “You are indeed old enough to marry, dearling, but I should dreadfully miss your companionship. And your poor father, as you well know, thought you still a trifle young for marriage.”
    “I am nearly two years past the age of consent!” Simon said, “Enough, lassie. We’ll decide when it is right for you to wed.”
    She pouted, but then her gaze met his, twinkling again. “I expect you’ll want to be rid of me soon enough once you marry, sir. In any event, I have not met many gentlemen yet. You must tell me how I shall contrive to do so.”
    “We will discuss that another time, but not tonight,” he said. “I have duties I must see to before I sleep, and the day has already been long.”
    His mother announced that she had eaten all she wanted and told Rosalie that they could look for clothes that she could take to the lady Sibylla on the morrow.
    Simon was tempted to suggest that they wait another day to provide Sibylla with clothing, but he knew he could not keep her in bed much longer.
    He stood politely as his mother and sister left the dais. Then he went down the nearby service stairway to the kitchen to confer with his cook about poultices—and to direct a scullery maid to see that someone attended to
    Sibylla’s riding dress and the red kirtle—before going out to see Jed Hay and discuss the puzzling increase of raids in the area. The two men talked long, sharing a jug of ale.
    Thanks to Tetsy’s efforts, Sibylla’s bed was clean and she had washed her face and body as well as she could with damp cloths. She donned a clean robe, and had eaten her supper when the maid returned, lugging a fresh pail of hot water.
    Sibylla eyed it askance. “What is that for?”
    “Ye said ye’re loath to get into a clean bed wi’ your hair such a mess, m’lady. I would, too, so I thought mayhap we could wash it up here in yon basin.”
    “I’ve much too much hair for that wee washstand basin,” Sibylla said, vexed that the girl had not realized how badly she wanted to feel clean again. “In troth, Tetsy, I want a bath. Is the kitchen empty yet?”
    “It is, aye, m’lady, but ’tis no use. I did ask Cook about fetching a tub up here, but the laird did tell him nae one is to bathe tonight. He said it were too cold.”
    Sibylla raised her eyebrows. “It will not be too cold in the kitchen.”
    Tetsy shrugged. “Mayhap it will not, but we canna go down there.”
    “You need not go with me,” Sibylla said. “But although I did the best I could earlier with a cloth and the warm water you brought me, my skin still feels as if it may crack, and my hair . . . Where do they keep the tub?”
    Tetsy’s eyebrows shot upward. “Sakes, m’lady, it takes two men to carry it!”
    Sibylla sighed, eyeing the pail of water with irritation. “Thank you for bringing that water, Tetsy. I know it was heavy, but I cannot bathe or rinse out my hair in that wee basin. There must be a scullery sink and hot water still on the hob.”
    “In the kitchen? Aye, mistress, o’ course there be a sink, and a big kettle of water always sits on the hob. Even a banked fire does keep it warm all night. But did anyone find us a-stirring up that fire, they’d be telling half the castle about it.”
    “Then here’s what I mean to do,” Sibylla said. She paused before adding, “I forgot you dare not go with me. I should say no more, so you can say honestly—”
    “Nay, m’lady, I’d best go with ye. Ye canna do it