mother,” he replied. “You will not leave this room until I return.”
So he was not as hard as she had originally thought. His expression said it all and somehow, in some way, she felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her. It was kindness from a stranger she had not expected.
“I will not leave this room,” she promised softly.
With a short nod, he turned from her and lifted the latch. She called after him before he could get away.
“Sir Stephen?”
He paused. “Aye?”
“For your kindness towards my mother,” she grasped for words. “I… thank you.”
He looked rather surprised by her gratitude. And then he looked guilty. Without another word, he quit the room.
THE SAVAGE CURTAIN
CHAPTER THREE
Joselyn woke up the next morning alone in the small, dirty bed. It was light outside but she had no way of knowing what time it was. Stirring, she propped herself up on her elbows only to realize that at some point during the night, someone had piled a mound of woolen blankets on the bed and a fire burned low in the hearth. The wood was crumbling, indicating the fire had been burning for some time. Just the least bit curious, not to mention touched, she realized that Stephen must have returned at some point.
Sitting up, she swiftly remembered that she hadn’t a stitch of clothing on. Her rough surcoat and shift were still on the floor where she had dropped them. In spite of the fire, the room was chilly and she moved to the edge of the bed, aiming for her clothing on the floor, when more items caught her attention that hadn’t been there the night before.
A bucket of water and a small cake of white soap sat on a small table just to the right of the bed. Standing up, she hooted when her feet hit the freezing floor as she hobbled over to the soap and water. A folded square of linen was placed behind the bucket, presumably to dry off with, and her lips twitched with a smile. She could hardly believe that the cold, hard man she had met yesterday would actually provide her with such luxuries and kindness that she could scarcely comprehend. Perhaps he was not so cold and hard, after all. It was too good to believe.
Just as she picked up the soap, the final surprise caught her eye; folded up quite neatly on a small three-legged stool next to the water and soap, were at least two layers of different colored material. Intrigued, she picked up the first bundle and watched it unfurl into a splendid surcoat the color of cranberries. She fingered the fabric, noting it was very soft wool that was long of sleeve and square of neck. It was also unhemmed and unfinished.
Underneath it lay at shift made out of a material so fine and soft that it was surely made of clouds. Awed, she picked it up, rubbed it against her cheek and was delighted to note that it did not scratch her at all as the wool did. In fact, she had spent the past ten years wearing rough woolen garments of all kinds and her skin was constantly red and scratchy from the material. It was miserable but it was all she knew. The introduction of the white shift made of angel’s wings had her reeling with delight.
Quickly, she threw off the dirty tartan and washed liberally in the cold water. She hooted and gasped as she lathered the soap and bathed, unassisted, in the corner of the dingy room. It had been the first bath she had taken in ages, so it was something of a delicious treat. The soap smelled strongly of pine but she didn’t care; it was a wonderful luxury in a world that had very few. After she had washed her slender white body thoroughly, she stuck her head into what remained of the water in the bucket and lathered her hair up with the pine-smelling soap.
Her hair was trickier to wash than her body but she managed to rinse it relatively clean. Anything was clean compared to what it had been. And with that, she dressed in the soft white shift and pulled the surcoat over her head. There were latticed-strings on the bodice of the garment,
Learning to Kill: Stories