She turned away from the chest and leaned against it. What was she to do now? How did one spy on one’s estranged husband?

The door swung open and the dour-faced woman appeared once again. “Your maid is no’ to be found, then,” she announced, sounding vexed. “I’ll help you to dress, then, aye?”

God, please no. But Margot smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and mentally prepared herself to face her first full day back at Balhaire as a pariah.

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

MARGOT’S MAID, NELL, was hotter than the bathwater that had been drawn for her.

“How crude it was, milady,” she said angrily as she stalked around the old rooms Margot had once occupied, laying out gowns from which Margot would choose. “That man as big as a tree come in here as if he owned this pile of rocks and demanded to be shown your things!”

Jock, she meant. Margot stepped into the bath and sank down into the hot water.

“I says, ‘You can’t go looking through my lady’s things,’ and he says, ‘Stand aside, you wee nymph. I’ve no bloody time for it.’ Beggin’ your pardon,” she added hastily in apology for her language, and dipped a curtsy.

“It’s all right,” Margot said. The hot water felt good on her body, particularly those spots that had not been so well used in a very long time. She leaned back and closed her eyes as Nell stomped about, listening to the sweep of her gown on the carpet as she ranted about her encounter with Jock.

“I don’t like it here,” Nell said, tossing her blond head. “Never did. It’s not right that a man can come into a lady’s chamber and put his big paws into her things and stir them about like a mutton stew. And with no regard for costly lace and silk! My father always said Scots were hard-hearted and the only redeeming thing about them was the road they built to England.”

Margot laughed at that. “They’re not as bad as that.” She sat up in the bath, water pouring off her shoulders and breasts. “Come and help me wash my hair.”

When she’d dressed and Nell had put her wet hair up, Margot ventured out of her rooms. She went down the curving stairs to the main floor. She heard voices in the great hall, Jock’s rising above the others. Margot walked in the opposite direction of all those Mackenzies and out the front door.

The mists had lifted and left in their wake a blindingly bright day, and she stood a moment to let her eyes adjust, her gaze landing on Sweeney Mackenzie in the company of three men. At least Sweeney had been kind to her before. She’d never been able to determine exactly where Sweeney fell on the chain of command at Balhaire, but he was always about. She strode forward.