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She only allowed herself a short space of time to rest. And she dared not close her eyes lest the entire night pass away. Leod had asked her to watch over his charges while he was away . . . and that she would do.
Meghan drew back her blankets and sat up. She hadn’t bothered to take off her boots and now she swung her legs out from under the covers and leveraged herself up to a standing position. Her back bone ached and she cricked her neck and flexed her spine, grimacing as the bones creaked reluctantly back to a more suitable position.
Reaching up to where her hair was fastened at the nape of her neck with a leather tie, she unbound it, and let it hang loose. It was dirty and tangled and she could barely comb her fingers through it. With an effort she managed to corral it all back from her face and to separate it into three thick strands. Her fingers flew quickly along their lengths, knitting them together into a braid.
‘’Twill have to do,’ she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. She would give anything for a long hot soak in the tub and buckets and buckets of hot water to wash her hair. Oh for some of her mother’s rose-oil soap and a thick bristled brush to scrub the layers of grime from limb and head.
Meghan shook off these indulgent thoughts, chiding herself for dawdling away her time with such selfish concerns. ‘Grab the bucket, girl!’ she told herself. ‘And get some fresh, cool water for your charges.
She nodded at Athwen, at the perimeter of the camp, as she passed by. Meghan held up her empty bucket, giving the indication that she would fill it and return directly . . .
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