‘If you need anything Morag here will attend you,’ he said.
The serving woman, buxom in thick homespun, might have been any age between forty and sixty. Her grey eyes regarded Ashlynn with frank curiosity. However, their expression was not unkind and when Ashlynn smiled it was returned. Iain glanced at the servant and jerked his head towards the door.
‘Wait outside.’
The woman bobbed a curtsy and withdrew. For a moment husband and wife faced each other. In spite of the chill Ashlynn felt sweat start on her palms for she was keenly aware that the servant’s restraining presence was gone and there was a large bed just across the room. Not only that, her husband was a head and shoulders taller than she, weighed roughly eighty pounds more, and was much too close for comfort. The dark eyes held a disquieting expression and were focused on her face. In confusion she looked away. In fact he guessed her thoughts with shrewd accuracy but just then had no intention of following up his advantage.
‘The accommodation is rough and ready at present,’ he observed, ‘but no doubt you’ll amend it to your liking in due course.’
Not knowing quite what to say Ashlynn remained silent.
‘Is there anything more you require just now?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing more.’
He moved towards the door. ‘Until later then, Ashlynn.’
Weak-kneed with relief she watched the door close behind him, then sank down on one of the chairs. It took her a moment or two to recover her self-possession. She was recalled by Morag’s return.
‘Do you require anything, my lady?’
‘Yes. I would wash after my journey. I would also like a change of clothes if that can somehow be arranged.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
When Morag had left, Ashlynn took another glance round the room and shivered, instinctively moving closer to the fire, seeking some comfort from its warmth. However, it did little to dispel the sensation of sick dread that sat like lead in the pit of her stomach.
* * *
Some time later the woman returned with a jug of hot water, soap, towels and a comb. Over her arm she carried a clean shift and a gown of brown woollen cloth. With them were woollen stockings and a pair of sturdy leather shoes.
‘These are as near to your size as I could guess, my lady.’
Ashlynn thanked her. Then, as the servant poured water into the basin and laid the towels ready, she unfastened her cloak and tossed it on to the bed before divesting herself of belt and tunic. Since the cold did not encourage her to strip off she contented herself with bathing her hands and face. With Morag’s help she combed and braided her hair and then pulled on the clean shift, stockings and gown. The latter was too big but not unduly so, and they contrived to disguise the fact with the aid of a girdle. Ashlynn glanced down at herself, smoothing the skirt with her hand. The cloth was warm and serviceable, the colour practical, but the garments had no pretensions to beauty or elegance. They could hardly have been more different from the ones she had worn hitherto. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Morag handed her the cloak and she put it on, glad of the additional layer.
‘Will there be anything else, my lady?’
‘No. I thank you.’
The servant withdrew then and Ashlynn was left alone. Once more her sombre gaze took in the details of the room and for the first time noticed the door, partially concealed by shadow, in the side wall. When she tried the handle it didn’t budge. She wondered what lay on the far side—a store room perhaps. It was of no importance and there would be time enough to find out later. In the meantime she needed to get away from this chamber. She let herself out but, instead of retracing her steps along the way she had originally come, set off in the other direction. It brought her at length to another narrow wooden door. This one was unlocked and yielded quite easily when tried. It led out on to a short flight of steps and thence up to a flat roof area at the top of the tower. Dusk was drawing in. In a little while it would be full dark.
The knowledge did nothing to lighten her mood. Wrapping the cloak closer around her Ashlynn moved to the crenellated wall and peered out between the stone merlons, but there was little to be seen save snow and swirling white mist. She recalled what Iain had said about the weather closing in. Soon they would all be its prisoners. She felt as one standing at the edge of the world in some uncharted waste, a place where different rules obtained and where, just out of view, lurked unspecified dangers. It was very cold out on this exposed place and far from an ideal refuge, but she didn’t want to return to her chamber and certainly had no intention of going down to that filthy, cheerless hall where there was a better-than-even chance of meeting her husband.