" I’ve drunk too much wine, Circenn. I’m afraid I must find one of those dratted chamber pots.” She sighed morosely. “There are some things I really miss about my century.”
“A chamber pot? Why not use the garderobe?”
“The what?”
“The garderobe.”
“You have garderobes here?” she said stiffly.
He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Not that I wish to pry, but where have you been going?”
“Chamber pots,” she muttered.
“And what have you been doing . . . er . . . ?”
“Dumping them out the window,” she said, prickly as a porcupine. So much for demure privacy. If there was a garderobe, why on earth had Eirren told her to use the chamber pot? Then she realized how mischievous the lad could be. It was just like Eirren to be prankish. “Was there a garderobe at Dunnottar, too?”
“It is you who has been dumping them out the windows? I have been blaming it on my men, making them wash down the stones. Aye, there was one at Dunnottar. I had garderobes put in every keep I own or visit.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked. How was I to know? When you first arrived here, I wasn’t about to address such private issues. I assumed you had found our garderobe on your own.”
Lisa snorted. Eirren had truly bamboozled her, and her pride had kept her tidily trapped in his jest. “I can’t believe all this time I’ve . . . Oh! Where is the blasted garderobe?”
He told her, biting his lip to keep from smiling. He watched her hips sway gently in her emerald gown as she climbed the stairs. She’d said she loved him. That was promising.
Perhaps it was nearly time to talk to her about loving him forever. "
― Karen Marie Moning , The Highlander's Touch (Highlander, #3)