When the water grew cool, she stood. Good heavens, the bath had turned murky brown.

Grabbing a cloth, she dashed to the hearth and made quick work of rubbing herself dry and wringing out her hair.

As the door opened, a whoosh of cold air swept inside. “Here we are,” said Mistress Barton, sounding official and marching to the chair. “A shift, stays, a kirtle, an apron, stockings, garters, and I hope these slippers fit.”

Divana stared, gripping the drying cloth in front of her naked body. Stays? She’d never worn them. And the slippers were leather with red ribbons. “I hope I haven’t taken someone’s things.”

“They belong to Fiona—you’ll be sleeping in a box bed with her. She’s about your size, and I’ve ordered new clothes for the both of you. The mistress doesn’t care to see anyone in her employ dressed in rags.” Mistress Barton gathered Divana’s clothing. “And these are suited for nothing but the fire.”

“Nay! Those are the only clothes I own—Sir Kennan tore my blanket to escape from the mill, and I’ve naught in my basket but a rock, a slingshot, and a bit of driftwood whittled by…” She didn’t finish. What might the housekeeper think if she knew how much time Divana and Kennan had spent together? They’d slept in a one-room bothy, for heaven’s sake. Even a poor lass like her knew such a thing wasn’t done—at least not among society when there were other places to sleep.

“Well, then you’ll fare far better here.” The matron offered a warm smile right before she threw the clothing onto the flames. “Come now, pull the shift over your head and I’ll help you with the stays.”

Divana complied, not certain about anything. Now that she was a servant, would she ever see Kennan? Where was he? Would he set sail soon and forget she’d ever existed?

The linen shift was soft against her skin without a single hole—and the woolen kirtle was finely woven and warmer than anything she’d ever worn. Real woolen stockings and garters, too. But even with all the niceties, a thickness constricted Divana’s throat. The shoes pinched a bit, though she kept mum and didn’t complain.

She’d come to Achnacarry because there she’d still be a part of Kennan’s world. But after her bath, she suddenly felt as alone as she’d been on Hyskeir.

Heavenly Father, please do not let him forget me.

* * *

Fiona was a healthy-looking lass with brown hair and rosy cheeks. Thank goodness she was a bit bigger around than Divana, because wearing her stays already made it difficult to breathe.

Divana stood in front of a mirror while Fiona worked a comb through Divana’s hair. “I do not believe I’ve ever seen so many knots.”

“Mayhap we should cut it.”

Fiona gaped. “Cut this bonny mane of red? ’Twould be a sacrilege.”

“I’m sorry ye’ve been tasked with combing it.”

“Nonsense. Mistress Barton excused me from replenishing the water in the bathhouse. For that, I’d comb ten heads of knotted hair.”