After going up and down three separate flights of stairs, even Ryan’s excellent sense of direction had been thoroughly spun around and confused.
An older woman, in a longer skirt, was in charge. A bunch of large keys dangled from a ring at her broad leather belt. She had been in the lead, feet pattering on the deep carpets, and she occasionally glanced behind to make sure they were all keeping up with her.
“Here,” she finally said. “These are the rooms arranged for you outlanders.”
“Arranged by who?” J.B. asked.
“Mistress Marie.”
She had a small notebook on a piece of cord, also attached to her belt and she consulted it, reading out numbers and names, watching with an eagle eye to make sure the young servants obeyed her instantly.
“Cawdor and Wroth in sixty-eight. The boy in sixty-seven, next door. Do you wish to have the connecting door unlocked or kept bolted?” she asked Ryan.
“Unlocked. Please.”
“Ah.” The woman revealed surprise and veiled pleasure at the second word. “Then in sixty-four is Dr. Tanner, and Master Brother in sixty-three. Those rooms also have a connecting door.”
“Locked, I think, dear lady, if you please. That would be most awfully kind.”
Flustered by the sight of the old man’s large and perfect teeth grinning at her, she automatically dropped him a curtsy. “Pleased to serve, sir. And sixty-one is for Dix and Wyeth.”
She clapped her hands at the other servants. “Show them to their rooms, quickly, or you’ll find some skin missing from your backs, and blood down to your ankles.” The woman turned once more to Ryan. “Anything you want, just ask them. If you find any difficulty, then ask for me. My name is Mercy Weyman.”
“I’VE DEED AND GONE to heaven,” Krysty said, sighing.
The bathroom was lined with tapestries and filled with steam. The heavy scent of pine had flooded into the main bedchamber after the servant had poured it into the white enameled tub from a bottle of dark green liquid.
She had shown them the closets and the toilet in the corner by the bath, folded back the layers of bedclothes and pointed out an oak chest that held more blankets.
“Bellpull goes direct to us in the cellars,” she said in a breathy little voice. “Ring if there’s anythin’ you want and I’ll come runnin’ for you. My name’s Laura.”
Once they were left alone, Krysty raced Ryan for first to go at the bath. He was ahead, then one of the laces on his combat boots got snagged and she was an easy winner. He sat on the floor, picking at the knot, watching her lithe, naked body, the burst of hair between her thighs matching the flaming mane on her head.
“Don’t take too long,” he said, finally stripped off, walking into the bathroom.
She was lying down, almost invisible behind a cascade of white bubbles, smiling up at him.
“Good to be real clean, lover. And it’ll be good to have you real clean for a change.”
He knelt down at the side of the tub and held out his hand for the soap.
Krysty gave it to him, closing her eyes, smiling. “Start at the top and just sort of work your way down, lover.”
He rubbed the back of her neck, then around to the front, feeling the taut muscles relaxing under the massage. The soap smelled of fresh lilacs. Krysty wriggled as his hands reached her breasts. Ryan used the soap to run tiny circles around a nipple, bringing it instantly to a soft firmness. He lowered his head to lick the soap away.
“Ryan,” she protested. Very weakly. “We both have to bathe and then get ready to eat. I don’t think this baron is the sort of man who’d appreciate lateness. And if Oh, you shouldn’t do that, lover, or I’ll”
Her hand snaked over the edge of the tub, reaching down for him.
He gasped as her fingers tightened, bringing him to full, hard readiness.
“Thought you were worried about getting something to eat,” he said.
Krysty grinned and kissed him on the mouth, her tongue snaking between his lips. She broke away for a moment, looking down at his erection. “Something to eat?” she whispered.