Free Kathryn Le Veque by Lord of Light

better than to ask me that.”
    He pretended
to frown; a foot was sticking out from beneath her gown and he grabbed it,
pretending to tear off her shoe and tickle her small foot. “Insolent wench,
I’ll teach you some respect.”
    She squealed
in delighted terror. He grinned and let go of her foot. “Your bath awaits you, my
lady.   I thought you might enjoy one.”
    She sat up
on the bed, her shimmering brown hair askew. “You noticed my smell, did you?”
    “Everybody
smells.”
    “Not this
bad.”
    “Aye, I’ll
agree you are hard to miss.”
    “You should
be on my end.”
    His smile
broadened and he put his hand on the door latch. “I would like to be.”
    He quit the
room chivalrously. Alisanne sat on the bed, smiling like an idiot for the
longest time. When the giddy warmth passed over her, she shook herself free of
her thoughts and tore her mucky, stinky clothes off with eager abandon. It was
cold in the room but warm in the tub, even though there was barely enough water
to cover her. Still, a bath was a bath. Lathering herself up with the barwife’s
soap, she scrubbed vigorously with the cheesecloth that had been left for her.
    She had soap
on her face and in her eyes when she heard the door open. “Who’s there?” she
demanded.
    Roane
laughed softly. “Forgive me, my lady, I swear I am not looking. The barwife offered
to clean your clothing.”
    She put the
cheesecloth on her face, wiping the suds off. “But I’ll have nothing to wear
for hours!”
    “You would
rather put dirty clothing back on?”
    She peeped one red eye open. True to his word, he wasn’t looking
at her. “Well, I suppose not,” she said.   “But what am I going to wear in the mean time?”
    “Trust me.”
    He closed
the door again and was gone. Alisanne doused her whole head in the water to
wash off the soap, wondering if she was going to spend the rest of the day
wrapped in bed linens to keep from catching her death. She felt rather
vulnerable without her clothing.
    She sat in
the tub until the water was tepid and still no Roane. Climbing out of the tub, she
tore the coverlet off the bed and wrapped herself in it, and went to sit by the
fire. Running her fingers through her hair, she felt it slowly dry in the
warmth of the blaze. Still, no Roane. The morning
advanced and the barwife came and brought her bread and tart, white cheese to
eat, but said nothing about Roane when Alisanne inquired. She was beginning to
think she may have been abandoned.
    Finally, her
hair was dry in shiny brown waves. The barwife had left her a fishbone comb and
she stroked her hair absently. More than perturbed and just the slightest bit
fearful, Alisanne nearly jumped from her skin when the door popped open and Roane
entered. He moved so quickly that she didn’t see what he had in his hands until
he thrust it in her face.
    “Well?” he
demanded. “What do you think?
    It was a
wonderful garment of yellow linen, very well made and lined with several layers
of a soft cotton fabric so the skirt was thick and full. The bodice was laced
with a fashionable crisscross corset, the bust line daringly low cut, and the
sleeves long and flowing. Holding it up in one hand for her to see, he tossed
something on to the bed with his other hand. Alisanne saw a pair of matching
slippers.  
    “Well?” he
repeated.
    She was
stunned. “I… it’s lovely,” she fingered the linen.
“But… where did you get it?”
    “From a
woman in town who makes gowns and other garments,” he said, somewhat quietly.
“She is a friend of the barwife’s. We determined your dress to be unsalvageable,
so I thought mayhap a new one was in order. Do you like it?”
    She nodded
her head, too surprised to speak for a moment. “Where did you get the money?”
    “I traded
your gown, and a few other things, for it.”
    She looked
at him suspiciously. “What else did you trade, Roane? You had nothing of
value.”
    He shrugged
and laid the dress across the mattress. It was then