Much to his relief, Annabel was still waiting where he'd left her. She looked unharmed but anxious, and he couldn't help noting that for all she was stalwart about not complaining and so on, she did seem overly nervous a lot of the time. On the other hand, Ross supposed the possibility of having your maidenhood breached and someone coming up on you while you were relieving yourself were worthy of anxiety.
Taking her arm, he started to urge her back the way they'd come, but she dug her feet in.
"Oh, but I still have to--" She cut herself off and blushed.
"Aye. Ye will. I just want to fetch the men," he assured her, trying to get her moving again.
"The men?" Annabel squawked with dismay, digging in her heels.
"Aye. We can stand around ye and be sure no one creeps up on ye again," Ross explained. It seemed perfectly reasonable to him. But judging by the horror that covered her face at the suggestion, she didn't agree.
"My lord, surely you do not expect me to . . . with men standing around me?" she asked as if he'd suggested she do it in the village square for all to see . . . and naked.
"Well, they won't be able to see anything," he assured her with amusement. Damned if he'd let his men look on her cute little derriere as she knelt in the bushes. "They'll be on the other side of the bushes, but there to stop anyone else approaching."
Annabel was shaking her head before he'd finished. "I cannot possibly--not while I know your men are all standing around listening to me . . . I just cannot," she said helplessly.
"It's pissen, lass," he said helpfully since she seemed unable to voice the word herself. "It's a pissen yer needing. Ye can say the word. I'll no think less o' ye fer it."
Annabel opened her mouth, closed it, and then simply shook her head again.
Ross sighed. If she couldn't even say the damned word, there was no way she was going to do it with guards standing but feet away. He glanced around, considering what to do, then nodded. "Right. Then come here."
"Where are we--?" Her question died as he led her to a bush at the stream's edge and paused.
"Ye do it here," he said releasing her arm and moving three or four feet away to turn his back to her. "And I'll stand guard here. That way yer front and back are safe and we can both keep an eye on the sides."
Ross waited for either agreement or the rustle of her adjusting her clothes, but neither sounded. Resisting the urge to look back and see what she was doing, he asked, "Yer no' doing it, are ye?"
"Umm . . . nay, not yet," she muttered, then paused, cleared her throat, and asked, "Do you think you could whistle, my lord?"
"Whistle?" He did glance around then. She was standing where he'd left her, looking uncomfortable, but still upright, not down on her haunches with her skirt hiked up around her waist.
Annabel grimaced apologetically. "It would help if you did."
Sighing, Ross shook his head, but turned away and began to whistle. He was wishing though, that she'd just hurry up and get it done. He still had some pissen of his own to do. So, he was more than a little relieved when she cleared her throat a moment later and murmured, "We can return to the clearing."
Ross walked her back to where the men were setting up camp, had a word with Gilly and Marach, telling them both what had happened. He then ordered them to keep on eye on Annabel, and ordered the other men to search the area to be sure whoever had come up on his wife had left.
Ross suspected it had been another traveler, on foot, or camped nearby looking for their own spot to take care of private matters, but neither he nor any of his men came across anyone. He found the trail again that he'd been following earlier, but it continued only for another ten feet before disappearing at the water's edge. There was no sign of a boat having come aground there. He doubted the stream was even deep enough for a boat, though, so either they'd crossed the stream, or they'd walked through it for a while before coming back out. That didn't change his mind about it all being an accidental encounter though. They were in England. What Englishman wouldn't use the stream to cover his trail when an angry Scot was after him, ready to trounce him for coming upon his wife like that?
Satisfied that all was well, Ross called off the search and left the men to hunt up dinner while he returned to the campsite and his bride.
Chapter 4
Annabel rolled onto her back and opened her eyes with a happy, sleepy little sigh, then blinked in surprise when she found herself staring at a ceiling overhead rather than open air. Sitting up abruptly, she peered around, eyes wide as she took in the room she was in. It was a large one with a table and chairs in the far right corner, two chairs and a small table before a fire directly across from her, and a stand for a washbasin between two windows to the left of her . . . and then of course there was the bed she was in, quite the largest bed she'd ever seen, and so soft and comfy. It felt like it was stuffed with feathers rather than straw. It was at least five times bigger than the hard, narrow cot she'd slept in for the last fourteen years at the abbey, and almost twice the size of the bed she and Ross had slept in at Waverly. It was also definitely more comfortable than that bed had been. Annabel was quite sure even the king couldn't have a nicer bed when it came to comfort.
The problem was, she had no idea whose bed it was, or where she was. The last thing Annabel remembered was riding her mare on the third day of their interminable journey to her new home. They had stopped the first two days when the sun had begun to set, but on the third night they'd continued on well past sunset. Annabel had wondered about that, thinking perhaps they were near MacKay, but hadn't asked and had simply continued forward.
Annabel supposed she'd fallen asleep in the saddle and was rather surprised she hadn't toppled right off her horse. Really, that silly sidesaddle was an atrocious invention. People weren't meant to ride with their legs to the side, she was sure, and while she'd never ridden astride on a saddle, she was positive it must be much more comfortable. Certainly, it had to be easier to direct the horse with a squeeze of legs instead of counting wholly on the reins.
The opening of the bedchamber door drew Annabel from her thoughts and she tensed and glanced to it, relaxing a bit when an older woman stuck her head in. The stranger then beamed when she saw Annabel upright in bed.
"Ah, good! Yer awake, ye are." She opened the door wide then
and bustled in, leading a parade of servants carrying various items.
Annabel drew the furs up to her chin and stared wide-eyed as a tub was carted in by two men and set in the large space remaining in the far left corner of the room. It was followed by four men, each carrying a bucket of water in each hand; some of those buckets were steaming, others were not. The men were followed by women carrying soaps, linens, and one a tray with food on it. The last to enter the room were two more men carrying a chest between them.
It was quite crowded in the room for a moment, but cleared out quickly as each person set down their burden and hurried out with a quick curious glance, a bobbing curtsy, or a smile in her direction. Annabel smiled anxiously back, nodding at each person as they passed until just the first woman who had entered was left.
"There we are!" she said cheerfully, closing the door behind the last departing servant. "We're all set then I think."
"Erm," Annabel murmured, still clutching the furs to her chin. She wasn't quite sure what they were set for. She wasn't even sure where she was, though she was beginning to suspect she'd slept through their arrival at MacKay. Someone had obviously carried her up here to bed . . . and stripped her, she realized with dismay as she noted that she was completely and utterly naked under the linens and furs.
"Now ye just break yer fast while I prepare yer bath fer ye." The words were accompanied by the tray of food being plunked on her lap in bed.
The tray held bread, cheese, two fluffy-looking pastries and some sort of beverage. Judging by the scent of the steam wafting from it, warmed cider. Annabel simply stared at the fare, the woman's words winding through her thoughts: "Now ye just break yer fast while I prepare yer bath fer ye."