"Bonjour!" The voice came from the salon, and Skye hurried back into the main room of the apartment to confront a tiny, black-eyed woman of middle years dressed neady in the clothing of an upper servant.

"Good day," she said.

"Bonjour, madame. I am Mignon," the woman smiled. "Madame la Comtesse has sent me to take care of you." She turned quickly as she heard the door opening behind her. "Ahh! The footmen with your bath, madame. Into the bedchamber, mes amis! Vite! Vite!" She hurried ahead of them, leaving Skye standing rather amused.

The footmen who struggled with the bulky oak tub were followed by a brisk procession of their fellows, each lugging two buckets of steaming water until, finally, the tub was filled. Mignon stood in the bedchamber door, and said, "Come, madame. I am ready to begin." Skye nodded, and walked into her bedchamber. Mignon had flung the windows wide, and the soft warm summer air was easily dispelling the dampness of the room and mingling the fragrance of the cut roses in the bowl with the many flowers blooming in the gardens below.

Mignon quickly undressed her new mistress, saying as she did so, "I have prepared a basin of warm water, madame, and I will first wash your hair. Mon Dieu! Never have I seen so much dust! Did you roll in it, like a naughty puppy?"

Skye laughed. "I might as well have," she said ruefully. "It was eight days of travel, and no rain to hold the dust down on the roads."

"We do not need the rains now," Mignon replied. "The more sun, the sweeter the grapes, the better the wines this harvest." Gently she pushed Skye over so that her long dark hair was in the porcelain basin. Then with quick, deft movements she began washing Skye's hair.

Skye sniffed disbelievingly. "Damask roses!" she exclaimed.

"Mais oui" came the calm reply. "Is it not your scent?"

"Yes, but how did you know?"

"Madame la Comtesse told me." Mignon rinsed, and began a second washing.

How much had Adam told his mother about her? Skye wondered. Obviously he had written quite a bit to Gaby. Skye was touched. He really did love her, she thought, and realized that when he had turned her away saying that she needed a greater, more powerful husband than he could be, he had done so because of that love. Khalid, Geoffrey, Niall-all had loved her deeply; but had they loved her as much as Adam de Marisco obviously did? Comparison was unfair in this instance, Skye knew, yet she was touched by his devotion to her, and sad that she could not accept his proposal. Adam deserved to be happy, but could she bring herself to marry again? Not now. Perhaps, and the thought slipped into her mind unbidden, much to her annoyance, perhaps later. He had said he would wait, but would he? Suddenly Adam de Marisco was of a mind to marry, and he might grow tired of a woman who could not make up her mind. Well, if he did, Skye thought mutinously, then so be it! She had had all she could bear of being owned.

Mignon was now wringing out Skye's long black hair, having emptied a final bucket of rinse water over her head. Vigorously she toweled her mistress's waist-length hair, then politely said, "If you will sit for a few moments, madame, here on the window seat with your hair spread out in the sun, I shall prepare your bath for you."

Skye stretched herself so she might lie straight out, the back of her head resting upon the windowsill while her flowing hair fell over it and blew in the gentle breeze. Having clean hair felt wonderful, and Skye closed her eyes for a moment in the bright sunlight, humming lazily to herself as Mignon poured the bath oil into the waiting tub and mixed it with a wooden paddle. It was several long minutes before the scent suited the tiny Frenchwoman, and by that time Skye's mane was almost completely dry.

"Sit up, madame," Mignon said with a cluck of satisfaction. Swiftly she pinned the hair atop her mistress's head. "You will find your tub perfection," she said as she helped Skye up a pair of steps and down into the water.

"Ohh, yes," Skye murmured as the hot, fragrant water soaked into her skin and tired muscles.

Mignon chuckled. "Eight days in a jouncing coach is exhausting," she said sympathetically.

"Could I soak for a few minutes?" Skye begged, and Mignon smiled.

"Of course, madame! I will begin to unpack your things, which the footmen have brought up to the garderobe. I am going to find you a comfortable robe de chambre so you may rest for a few hours until the evening meal. I have ordered up some fruit, cheese, bread, and wine for you, as I suspect that you are hungry." Then she was off to the garderobe as Skye's thanks rang out.

What a jewel, Skye thought, and how fortunate she was that Mignon was available to serve her. Skye sighed, and snuggled down deep into the warmth. She could feel the very pores in her skin welcoming the heat and the silken bath oil. How foolish those poor women were who thought bathing was injurious to health, and covered their body odors in layers of perfume. Bathing was truly heaven-sent, and nothing cleaned a body like soap and water.

"Do you want company?"

Skye didn't even bother to open her eyes. "Not now, Adam," she pleaded prettily. "I don't know the last time I so enjoyed a bath."

His deep laughter rumbled about the room. Her refusal did not, he knew, stem from prudishness, or a cold nature. She simply did not wish to share her tub this time. Her enjoyment was plainly written upon her face. "I've already instructed old Guillaume to have a tub prepared for me, but I stopped on the chance you might be willing to share, little girl. I will be back when I have bathed."

When she opened her eyes briefly he was already gone. Why was he coming back? Then the truth dawned on her. For almost two weeks she had slept in the same bed with him, and other than hold her close in the night he had made no move to touch her. Adam was a man, however, and he had his needs as she had hers. He wanted her; she had not needed to see his face or the look in his eyes to know that. She had heard the longing in his voice. Adam was the one man she would never use, Skye thought seriously. If he wanted to make love to her, then they should make love. She smiled to herself, and then a tiny frown creased her brow as she remembered that no man had made love to her since Kedar.

"Are you ready to be washed, madame?"

Skye jumped at the sound of Mignon's voice. "Y-yes," she managed to answer as her eyes flew open.

"I am sorry, madame," Mignon apologized. "I did not mean to startle you."

"It's all right," Skye assured the tiring woman. "I was merely thinking."

"About M'sieur Adam?" Mignon inquired slyly. "I have known him since he was a boy. He is, how you say it, formidable! Magnifique! Un grand homme passionné! He is your lover?"

"She is to be my wife, you nosy creature," Adam chuckled from the door that connected their two rooms. "She is in mourning now for her last husband, but we have known each other a long while, Mignon, and Skye will marry me sometime next year."

"M'sieur Adam!" Mignon dropped the sea sponge with which she had been washing Skye's back, and clapped her hands together with delight. Then she ran to him, took his face in her two hands, and kissed him on both cheeks. "Bon chance, M'sieur Adam!" she exclaimed. "I am so happy for you! Did I not tell you those long years ago when that wretched Mam'selle Athenais spurned you that somewhere there was a wife for you. Madame Skye is far more beautiful than that other one!"

"She has a good heart too, Mignon," Adam said seriously.

"You are impossible!" Skye fussed at him. "Go and bathe, you great fool. You stink of half the roads of France! Mignon, this water grows cold!"

With another chuckle Adam disappeared back through the connecting door into his own room. Mignon, realizing the truth of Skye's complaint about the bath water, clucked and fussed as she swiftly washed her new mistress, then assisted her from the tub to dry her. "Madame la Comtesse tells me we are to go to Paris for the royal wedding," she chatted. "I did not think to be included in that journey. What a tale to tell my grandchildren!"

"You are married?" Skye was surprised.

“To Guillaume, who valets M'sieur Adam. He is much older than I, of course, but we have been married many years. I had my two babies before I came to be a tiring woman. When Comtesse Gabrielle married with M'sieur Antoine and brought her children to the château, Guillaume was assigned to be M'sieur Adam's valet. Now my husband is retired, but when he learned that M'sieur Adam would be visiting nothing would do but that he serve his old master. We have several grandchildren, madame, and they will enjoy the tales we will bring back of the royal wedding in Paris."