12
The knock on the door awoke her. A maid stepped through, placing a tray with bread, water, and a few pieces of fruit on the floor just inside the door. Anne rolled over and eyed her curiously. She was older than Anne, just starting to gray around the temples with streaks in her hair, which was pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. Her long, gray dress mostly hid her soft shoes.
“Me Laird said ye is to ride wit’ him today. Goin’ to the Hamlet he is to see the damage done. I’m to tell ye to eat and be waitin’ fer yer guard to come gather ye shortly.” The maid worried her skirt between her fingers, keeping Anne in her sight the whole time.
Anne half-smiled, her head still on the pillow. Perhaps having the name McCleary might work to her advantage. She tossed the covers aside a
