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you are about that, my lamb.”
    Isabel unwrapped the cloth that shrouded Mildred’s head. Isabel fit the cap over her own hair, and Mildred helped tuck Isabel’s braids into the back of it as Isabel pulled the tie closed to keep her hair completely inside the cap. There was a second piece that was little more than a square of linen, folded in half and sewn to the top of the cap. Once flipped back from her face, it fluttered down to hide every inch of her neck.
    â€œWe cannot have the baron displeased with my lack of modesty.”
    Mildred pressed her lips into a firm line to conceal her amusement. “Certainly not.”
    Isabel lifted the front of her robes and walked down the steps before she lost her nerve. She embraced her temper, which had flared from having her duties interrupted by Ramon’s demands.
    It was a bath, nothing else. A courtesy the lady of the manor performed for honored guests.
    That was all.
    If the man wanted to bare his body in her presence, fine. She wouldn’t be impressed, not a bit. Men so often considered their members to be something a woman enjoyed seeing, but Ramon de Segrave was bound to be disappointed if he thought the sight of his cock might sway her position on wedding him.
    You certainly were interested in him.
    Isabel muttered beneath her breath as she got closer to the bathhouse. She was a fool.
    Her husband had delighted in showing off his erect member before demanding her submission. She was obviously quite correct in her conclusions about Ramon. The man was exactly like her late husband.
    Yet, he was correct about her condemning him for crimes he hadn’t committed.
    Guilt made her stop. She stood for a moment and listened to the sound of the baron’s men making camp.
    It was welcome.
    She could not deny it brought a sense of relief. Tonight, her people would sleep soundly, knowing there would be no raids.
    Well, she still wasn’t interested in wedding the man. But she was willing to admit that there were some benefits to the baron being here. Such was logical thinking—something which had served her well.
    Now all she needed to do was find logical reasons for rejecting the baron’s proposal.
    The bathhouse was at the end of one of the long store buildings. With the warm spring weather, the window shutters were open. Isabel had to add wood to the hearth and push it into the ash to touch the coals, because no one needed a fire during the day at this time of year. The sound of the river rushing by filled the long room, and she could hear several women singing as they washed clothing. It was a short walk outside the bathhouse to the stone embankment her father had built to keep the water from changing its path by eroding the bank during the spring melting of snow.
    The river rushed up to the edge of the stones, and there were long poles for lifting buckets of water. Women used the surface of the stone walkway for scrubbing clothing, and the strong scent of lye soap lingered in the air. The soap kept the mold from growing on the stones and making the surface slick. The stone wall allowed the river close but kept the rushing current from eroding the land that the bathhouse was built on.
    Long troughs leaned up against the outside wall. Isabel lifted one and fit it into a standing trough that was near the edge of the wall. She would haul the water up from the river and dump it into the trough so that it would run into the bathhouse through the window. For bathing in the spring, it made the chore much easier. In winter, she would have to haul buckets of snow.
    She walked back into the bathhouse and pushed the large kettle into the flames of the fire. It was always hanging off a large hook, ready to be heated. The flames licked at the drops of water on the exterior, making them sizzle.
    â€œLady?”
    She turned to find two youths holding a bathing tub that was far larger than any Thistle Hill had.
    â€œThe baron’s tub, lady. Where would