“Ye did a fine job, brother. I’m impressed.”
Conran glanced up sharply at those words, and blinked at the sight of Rory claiming the empty space between him and Geordie on the bench. There was no hiding his surprise as he asked, “Ye’re done already?”
“Aye, well, Tildy got there ahead o’ me and helped Evina remove the wrappings and arrange a plaid around her so that I would only see the injury itself. I took a look, and ’tis healing nicely. No sign o’ infection, and yer stitching was better than me own. As fine as Mother’s when she was sewing. I think the scarring will be minimal. I told her she could have a bath, just to try no’ to get the injury itself wet, and then I gave Tildy a salve to put on it ere she replaces her bandages after her bath.” He shrugged. “It only took a couple minutes.”
“Oh.” Conran glanced toward the stairs.
“Tildy came below with me to fetch the servants with the bath,” Rory said solemnly. “She’ll no’ want to see ye while she’s bathing.”
“Right,” Conran murmured, but couldn’t help thinking he could offer to wash her back and squeeze in another lesson on the benefits of the marriage bed if he went up. He’d barely had the thought when Tildy hurried through the great hall, headed for the stairs. A passel of servants followed her, carting a big tub and pails of water, some of them steaming.
“Tildy must have ordered the water to be heated before she came to ask me to check Evina’s wound,” Rory said as they watched the parade of people head up the stairs.
“Aye. She’d been looking for ye for quite a while ere ye came below,” Conran told him, and then arched his eyebrows. “Ye slept rather late this morn.”
“Aye, well, there was a pretty blond lass who wanted me to take a look at something for her last night and I was quite late getting to bed,” Rory said with a shrug.
“Was her name Betsy?” Conran asked.
Rory stiffened in surprise. “How did ye ken?”
“Just a lucky guess,” Conran said with amusement, his gaze slipping past him to the stairs to watch for the servants’ return. It didn’t take long before the parade of servants were making their way back down the stairs. Which meant her bath was ready, and Evina was no doubt even now stripping and stepping into a steaming tub of water. It made him wonder if she was the sort to take long baths, or fast ones, and how long it would be before he could go above stairs.
“Remember, ye’re no’ supposed to get yer wound wet.”
“I’ll be careful,” Evina assured Tildy as she stepped over the edge of the tub and eased down to sit in it. A small sigh slid from her lips as the warm water closed over her and she briefly shut her eyes as her body relaxed. She’d been tense ever since Tildy had arrived to inform her that Rory Buchanan was on his way to check her wound. But it hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d expected. Tildy had helped. Before Rory arrived, she’d quickly removed the linen covering her injured breast, and then wrapped a plaid around Evina’s shoulders that she’d held together so that just the injured side of her back and the top of her wounded breast remained visible. Rory had come in, talked softly, asking if this or that hurt as he’d inspected and prodded her injury, and then had nodded, proclaimed her well enough to bathe, gave them a couple instructions and a salve and then left the room. It had been that easy, and hadn’t taken more than a couple minutes. It made Evina feel a little foolish about refusing to let the man look at it until now.
“Here. Hold this over yer wounded breast and I’ll wash yer hair first.”
Evina blinked open eyes she’d just closed and stared at the small strip of linen the woman was holding out.
“’Tis in case some water drips down yer face to yer chest,” the maid explained. “The healer suggested it.”
Nodding, she accepted the small bit of cloth and placed it over her breast, holding it there with one hand.
“Try to lean yer head back so I can dampen yer hair.”
Evina grasped the edge of the tub with her free hand and eased forward in the water until her bent knees were squished against one end of the tub. Once she’d given herself as much room as she could, she then leaned back, holding tightly with her one hand to keep from falling onto her back in the water and submerging her upper body and the wound along with it.
“Good,” Tildy said with approval. “Tell me if ye start to tire and need a break.”
Evina merely nodded and closed her eyes as Tildy picked up a pail and tipped the water over her hair. The maid worked quickly but carefully, managing to wet and soap the long tresses without getting water or suds anywhere near her chest or even her shoulders. But as quick as the woman was, the muscles in Evina’s arm were soon trembling with strain by the time she was ready to move on to the rinsing. She wouldn’t have said anything, and would have tried to last for the rinsing too. However, Tildy noticed and insisted on a break before she moved on to rinsing. Evina accepted the decision silently. She hated to admit weakness, but there was no way to hide it when it was visible as it presently was, so she eased up into a sitting position with relief.
“Here, I’d best . . .” Tildy didn’t bother to finish the phrase; she simply wrapped a fresh linen around Evina’s soapy hair and head, explaining, “‘Twill keep anything from dripping down yer chest and back now ye’re sitting up.”
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured, removing the still-dry strip of linen from her wound.
“Do ye want me to help ye with the rest o’ yer bath?” Tildy asked with concern.
“Nay. I’ll manage, and I’ll keep the wound dry,” Evina added before Tildy could give her the warning again.
The maid nodded, relaxing a little. “Well, then, I’ll strip the linens from yer bed and remake it while ye do that.”
“Thank ye,” Evina murmured again, and then turned her attention to soaping and cleaning herself as the woman bustled about the room, making up the bed with fresh linens and tidying up here and there. She finished before Tildy, but merely waited patiently until the woman completed the things she wished to do and returned to the tub.
“Shall I rinse yer hair now?”
“Aye, please.” Evina slid forward in the tub again and then eased back and tipped her head back to be rinsed.
“Here.”
She glanced down with a start as something light was laid over her injured breast. Spotting the scrap of linen she’d held there during the washing, Evina pressed one hand gently on the edge of it to keep it in place and then tightened the fingers of her other hand over the rim of the tub and closed her eyes.
Tildy was thorough but quick. It was just moments before she was wringing out Evina’s hair, and wrapping another dry linen around it.
“Oh, damn,” Tildy muttered suddenly as she helped Evina sit up in the water with the linen around her head.
“What is it?” Turning, she raised an eyebrow in question as she noted the old woman’s vexed expression.
“Well, I’ve used both the linens I brought up,” Tildy pointed out. “Now I’ve naught fer ye to dry with.”
Evina’s gaze slid to the sopping linen Tildy had wrapped around her soapy hair to keep her from getting her injury wet. It now lay a soapy wet mess in the rushes.