THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

agree but she believed Lady Beth would try to hold her own against their laird. As Tom continued his fretful pacing, Margaret shifted and tried to get comfortable. She glanced at the clock as another contraction started. With a mixture of excitement and dread, she decided they were definitely coming closer together.
    “Tom, how will we know if all has gone well?”
    “Perhaps...” He stopped and grinned for the first time in days. “I’ve got to go to the castle.” He raced to the hall and slapped on his hat. As he shoved an arm into his coat, he said, “I must get his diary, the original one.”
    “Tom, stop.” Margaret grimaced as she levered her ponderous body into a standing position. As she did, a puddle of amniotic fluid formed at her feet. “Yer babe has finally decided it’s time, dearest. Our laird’s diary will have to wait.”
     
     
     

Chapter 16
     
    Dressed in jeans and armed with the poor excuse for a broom that she’d found in the kitchen, Beth chased two mangy dogs, three children, and the idle priest out of the hall. She didn’t care if they all thought her crazed. They’d just have to live with it because the hall was in for an overhaul.
    She swept rushes from one corner and started stacking the long benches in it. As she started dragging one of the many long tables toward the corner, Rachael appeared at her elbow.
    “My lady, there’s nay reason to strain.” Within minutes, Rachael had summoned half a dozen women to help. Much to Beth’s surprise they all smiled at her now and appeared more than willing to do her bidding.
    As they grabbed opposite ends of one trestle table, Rachael whispered, “Did his apology meet yer esperances —-yer hopes?”
    “I don’t want to talk about him, Rachael. If the man dies of a heart attack, I don’t want to hear about it. Leastwise, not until after the funeral.” She’d given Duncan Angus MacDougall as much thought as she was ever going to expend on him.
    “Heart ah tak?”
    Beth rolled her eyes and clutched her chest as she pantomimed a heart seizure.
    “Ah, oui . ” Frowning, Rachael muttered something in French before adding, “As ye luste, mon ami .”
    Thankful her friend let the subject of her wayward husband drop, Beth said, “After we get all the furniture moved, I want the room swept clean. I don’t want to see so much as a crumb on the floor.” She wanted to see the wide-plank flooring gleam.
    “Of course.” Rachael issued rapid instructions in Gael to four of the women and within minutes everyone was amiably chatting as they swept the rushes out the door and down the winding stairwell to the bailey. While one woman went for fresh rushes and Rachael dug around in the west wing for lavender and whatever herbs she could gather, Beth scrubbed everything made of wood. As she labored, she hoped the caustic lye soap did as much damage to germs as it was doing to her hands. If so, she’d be making headway.
    With most of the tables scrubbed, Beth found Kari at her side.
    “Please, to help ye, my lady?”
    Beth nodded. “Aye, ye may.” She pointed to the soot-coated fireplace on the east-facing wall. “I think the stone work used to be cream-colored, or at the least beige.” In her time the fireplaces had elaborate white marble facades, but not so in Duncan’s. He had built them of etched sandstone with broad mantels. From his diary, Beth knew the keep to be ten years old. How the fireplace facades had become so disgusting in so short a time, she couldn’t fathom unless the chimneys needed cleaning. If so, she could address it later. Right now, she just wanted to dine in a clean room.
    “Can you take a scrub brush to them and find out?” When Kari only smiled then shrugged, Beth had to wait until Rachael returned to translate. Once Kari understood what was being asked of her, Beth set Rachael to rearranging the tables.
    “But the rushes, madame. They are not yet spread...down.”
    “We’re not putting them down Rachael. We’re putting them up.”
    Rachael’s sable, almond-shaped eyes grew round as quarters. “Pardon, madame? ”
    “You’ll see in a bit. Just get the tables aligned like so...”
    As they labored, Beth thanked God Miss I’m Too Sexy Flora never showed. Had she the nerve, Beth would have set her to cleaning the chimney flues. With a short-handled broom.
    Three hours later her helpers stood looking about with mouths agape, then slowly, one by one, they all started to smile. Beth, admiring