Free Bride of Dunloch (Highland Loyalties) by Veronica Bale Page A

you’re in Scotland. Does that not seem like an alteration to you?”
    “It makes no difference where I spend my life; it’s all the same service to me. And I still have you, so nothing has changed for me really. Nothing important, anyway. But you obviously feel as though your life has changed, and I am interested to know what it is in particular you’re thinking.”
    “It is nothing,” Jane insisted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Take no notice of me, my Ruth. I am blathering.”
    Ruth eyed her doubtfully. Self-conscious under her silent scrutiny, Jane sank farther under the water, submerging herself to the top of her lip. She wanted so much to tell Ruth her secret, but she dared not. It was not some special hiding place she’d found, or some trinket. It was a wounded enemy Scot. Jane was naive—she was only beginning to get a sense of just how naive she truly was. But she was not so thick she didn’t know full well that were Robbie discovered, he would be hanged for treason. Perhaps she, too, would face justice for her part in helping him, for keeping him concealed. He was an enemy to the Crown, after all, not just to Lord Reginald D’Aubrey.
    She could not think of such things. Not now, at any rate. At Ruth’s silent urging, she sat up again and let her maid wash her hair. She closed her eyes, revelling in the comforting sensation of Ruth’s strong hands stroking her wet locks. Down the length of her back they caressed as she poured a cascade of water from a pitcher to rinse the soap. It was a sensation in which Jane had taken comfort all her life; she held onto it especially hard now—now that she was so far from her home, her family, everything she’d ever known.
    Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her chamber door as it was thrust wide and banged against the wall. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her bare breasts and drew her knees up to hide her nakedness. Ruth’s hands pulled away from Jane’s hair, as surprised as her mistress by the intrusion.
    Lord Reginald stood at the door, wavering back and forth slightly as he squinted not at Jane, but in her general direction.
    “Don’t bother to cover up, girl,” he slurred with a teasing grin. “I’ve seen all there is to see.”
    “What is it, my Lord?” Jane asked pleasantly despite the unease that fluttered about in her stomach.
    Lord Reginald eyed Ruth. “Away with you, woman. I’ve a need of my wife at the moment.”
    “As you wish, my Lord,” Ruth answered with a squeeze of Jane’s shoulder. “Only, I have not finished my mistress’ bath. I beg you should return in an hour.”
    He laughed, his voice low and throaty. “No need. I’ll only dirty her up again.”
    Ruth paused, searching for a way to prolong her presence for Jane’s sake without being insubordinate.
    “It is alright, my Ruth,” Jane allowed, suppressing her panic as best she could. “I pray you go.”
    “My Lady,” Ruth acknowledged with a curtsey. She glanced sidelong at Jane as she stepped around Lord Reginald. Jane heard the unspoken sympathy in her glance, the apology and the encouragement.
    When she’d gone, Lord Reginald stepped close to the tub.
    “Stand up for me,” he commanded playfully.
    Jane swallowed the fury that began to bubble in her chest and her throat, and did as her husband bade.
    “Mmm,” he murmured, and reached forwards to massage her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Walter was right—you do have a fine figure.”
    “Thank you, my Lord,” she mumbled, lowering her chin so that he would not notice the scowl she could not contain.
    “You were well worth the trouble to negotiate for,” he added.
    Lord Reginald reached forwards abruptly and gripped her under the arms. His intention was clearly to lift her out of the tub as if she were a mere child, however, in his drunken state he lost his balance the moment he tried to raise her. Alarmed, Jane instinctively stepped back to keep herself from falling over him,