Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) by Debra Holland

a thick square of terry cloth that matched the towels, with a curly L on the front. Although reluctant to deface the surface of the soap, she ducked the bar and the washcloth into the water and scrubbed herself from face to toes. Then she closed her eyes, slid all the way under to wet her hair, soaped the long strands, and ducked under again. She finished by rinsing with clean water from the faucet. Her hand hovered over the drain plug. Should I leave the water for Caleb?
    Then she realized he wouldn’t want to smell like flowers and spice, and the hot water was so plentiful that there was no need to share. With a shake of her head at the realization, she pulled the plug. Fascinated, she watched the water gurgle down the drain.
    With her hand on each side of the tub, Maggie stood, muscles protesting the movement, although not as badly as before the soak. Even though she tried to keep her weight on her left foot, the surface was slippery, forcing her to shift for balance. A stab of pain shot through her ankle. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and took some quick breaths until the agony eased.
    She twisted her long rope of hair to wring out as much water as possible before grabbing up a thick towel and drying herself. She marveled at how the tiny loops of the material easily absorbed water. When she wrapped the towel around her body, the length enveloped her from the top of her breasts to her calves.
    There was no way she could just step out of the tub, so Maggie sat on the edge and shifted her legs over one at a time. Her feet rested on the rug. She paused for a minute, bracing herself to stand. As she pushed up, the rug provided a secure purchase for her feet, and she was able to keep most of her weight on her good leg. But still, the effort hurt.
    Maggie hated being in pain, hated that her injured ankle made her dependent on Caleb. How long before I can walk? Dr. Cameron had prescribed five days of bed rest for her body to recover from her injuries and childbirth and another five of careful movement and continuing repose. The amount of time seemed endless. She resisted the idea of being beholden.
    She donned Edith’s flannel nightgown. The matching quilted dressing gown went on next. Satin ribbons along the bodice tied the front securely. Both garments were too long, the hems pooling on the floor.
    Using the towel, Maggie rubbed her hair as dry as possible and then finger-combed out the snarls, wishing she’d brought along her brush. The thought made her heart ache. The loss of a brush was small compared with the destruction of the vardo , and Caleb had promised to send Jed to pack up the remainder of her possessions.
    I’ll have to borrow Caleb’s comb again. She sighed, wishing for the wayfarer’s cabin where it had seemed simple to share their scarce food and possessions. Already she missed the privacy and intimacy. . . .
    With one hand, Maggie gathered up the extra material of her garments, and with the other, she gripped the edge of the sink to brace herself. She hopped to the door and cracked it open, hoping to see Caleb and avoid Edith. The less I have to deal with that woman, the better.
    Through the opening in the doorway, she spotted Caleb holding Charlotte. He stood in front of his sister, and she could see his face.
    Edith shifted to the side, giving Maggie a clear view of her expression.
    The woman possessed the same striking good looks as her brother, characterized by large, dark eyes and patrician features. Her skin was fine and pale, with only a few lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, now turned down in disapproval.
    Edith narrowed her eyes at her brother in obvious suspicion. “Is Mrs. Baxter a new acquaintance? You didn’t know her before?”
    Caleb apparently caught her drift. Obvious anger made his eyes narrow. His icy gaze sent a chill down Maggie’s spine.
    “You malign Mrs. Baxter’s character, Edith,” Caleb said coldly. “And mine.”
    Maggie didn’t know