Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Gracie stirred beneath soft linens as her mother’s urgent whisper reached her ears.
“Up, lass, up,” Margaret said, pulling back the curtains as pale morning light spilled into the chamber. “We’ve nay time to waste, Gracie, the ceilidh is in six hours and ye must begin readyin’ at once.”
Gracie groaned and buried her face in the pillow.
“Six hours?” she mumbled. “Mama, I can dress in less than one, surely that is enough.”
Margaret set her hands upon her hips and said, “Nay, child, there is much to be done, from yer hair to yer gown, and every detail must be perfect. Waitin’ for yer hair to dry alone takes hours.”
Gracie peeked out and replied, “It is only a celebration, nae another weddin’.”
Margaret shook her head briskly. “This is yer first ceilidh as Lady McMillan, and every eye will be upon ye.”
Gracie sighed and said, “Let them look, I am still me, nay matter how long ye primp me.”
Her mother softened and answered, “Aye, ye are, but tonight is special, and ye deserve to feel it.”
Gracie finally pushed herself upright, knowing resistance was futile.
With a resigned breath, she allowed herself to be shepherded from bed by Margaret and April. They led her through the sitting chamber where a great tub steamed before the hearth, its surface rippling with warmth.
April smiled and said, “Daenae fash yerself, me lady, the Laird has told us he will nae come to these rooms while ye are made ready.”
Relief loosened Gracie’s shoulders.
“I am grateful for that,” she murmured, feeling shy even at the thought of him near while she was so undone.
She slipped from her robe and stepped into the tub, the heat wrapping around her like a gentle embrace.
Scented soaps rested on a small table, their fragrance of lavender and heather drifting through the air.
As she sank into the water, a long breath escaped her, carrying away the tightness of the past days.
Margaret knelt beside the tub and dipped a cloth into the water. “Ye have been so brave, Gracie,” she said softly.
Gracie closed her eyes and replied, “I daenae feel brave, Mama, I feel lost.”
Her mother brushed her cheek and said, “Every new life begins that way, but ye will find yer footin’.” The water lapped gently, as though agreeing.
April worked the soap into Gracie’s hair, and the rich scent bloomed around her.
The heat eased the ache in her shoulders, and for a moment she forgot castles and lairds and expectations.
She remembered being a girl in a smaller keep, bathing in wooden tubs and laughing with her mother.
That girl still lived within her, no matter the title she bore.
“Ye look happier already with a blush,” Margaret teased lightly.
Gracie opened one eye and said, “That is the water trickin’ ye.”
Her mother laughed. “Nonsense, ye have always glowed, and now ye are radiant.”
Gracie felt warmth rise in her cheeks, unsure how to accept such praise.
As April rinsed her hair, Gracie whispered, “Mama, do ye think I shall be a good Lady?”
Margaret answered without hesitation, “Aye, for ye have kindness in yer heart, and that is what a castle needs most.”
Gracie considered this, letting the words settle within her. Perhaps kindness would be enough, even in a place so grand.
The bath ended, and warm wool enveloped her like clouds.
They guided her to a cushioned chair by the hearth, where April began brushing her hair in long, careful strokes.
Gracie gazed at the flames, feeling the steady rhythm calm her thoughts.
Each stroke seemed to smooth not only her hair but her fears.
Margaret laid out gowns upon a nearby table, each finer than the last.
“Tonight, ye will wear the blue,” she declared.
Gracie glanced over and said, “It is very fine, Mama.”
Her mother smiled. “It will suit ye, and the Laird will see what I have always known. Ye are the most beautiful lass in the world.”
Gracie’s heart fluttered at the mention of her new husband.
She wondered where Jaxon was at that moment, and whether he thought of her at all.
His words from the night before still echoed, sharp and confusing, yet his presence lingered like a steady shadow.
Gracie did not know what place she held in his heart, if any.
Still, as the warmth of the bath faded into a gentle glow within her, she hoped that tonight might give her a hint as to how he felt about marrying her.
Margaret smoothed Gracie’s hair once more and said, “I am goin’ to go speak with Brianna. I ken just the foods she should prepare for breakfast that will have ye glowin’ by the evenin’.”
Gracie blinked and replied, “Is there truly such a thing, Mama?”
Her mother smiled knowingly. “Aye, and ye shall see,” she said, then swept from the chamber with determined steps.
Left alone with April, Gracie stared at her reflection in the polished mirror. Her stomach fluttered, for the night’s celebration loomed in her thoughts, bright and loud and full of eyes. Yet beneath that nervousness lay a deeper fear, one she scarcely dared name.
Is all this pamperin’ truly meant for the ceilidh, or is it to prepare me body for the marriage bed?
She thought of scented soaps and warm water and gentle hands, and her cheeks burned. Was this what being a wife meant, that she must be prepared for a man she barely knew? Her heart beat too quickly, and she clasped her hands in her lap.
Is that why Mama fusses so?
April studied her face and said, “I ken that frown, Gracie, what is on yer mind?”
Gracie forced a smile and answered, “Oh, nothin’ really.”
April lifted a brow and said, “I daenae believe that, I’ve ken ye for too long.” She leaned closer and asked, “How do ye feel about all that happened yestermorn?”
Gracie’s shoulders sagged, and the truth spilled forth. “Humiliated and confused,” she said softly. “I daenae ken why Edmund would run away, he doesnae ken me at all. If he was just goin’ to leave me at the altar, why agree to the marriage in the first place?”
She drew a breath and added, “And why would his brother, the Laird, step in and marry me instead? It doesnae make sense.”
April scoffed lightly. “It seems clear to me that one of those brothers has a good head on his shoulders, and the other doesnae.”
Gracie let out a small laugh, surprised by it.
April smiled and said, “If anythin’ happens, I will be here with ye, nay matter what.”
Gracie reached for her hand. “Thank ye for agreein’ to stay here, instead of returnin’ home with me parents.”
“I wouldnae have it any other way,” April replied at once. “This place may be grand, but it will need yer warmth, and I want to be here to see ye make it yer own.”
Gracie’s eyes shone, and she said, “I daenae ken what I would do without ye.”
April squeezed her fingers. “Ye have more strength than ye think, Gracie Gallagher.”
Gracie looked down and murmured, “I am afraid, April.”
April answered gently, “That is nay shame, lass, any woman would be in yer place.”
Gracie whispered, “What if he expects too much of me?”
April tilted her head. “From what I saw, the Laird is nae a cruel man, and he looked at ye as though ye were to his likin’.
“That cannot be true,” Gracie said, her old doubts rising. “Men have never looked at me so.”
April frowned. “Then perhaps ye have never looked back long enough to see it,” she said.
Gracie considered this, her heart stirring with cautious hope. “Do ye truly think he might have some care for me?”
“I think,” April replied, “that he chose ye when he had nay need to.”
Gracie remembered the way Jaxon had stood, calm and commanding, offering himself in her defense.
The memory warmed her more than the bath had.
Perhaps his words had been clumsy, but his action had been bold.
She drew a breath and said, “That may be, but I feel it was only to save his clan from humiliatin’ our own clan.
He did it out of duty to keep the peace between clans after such a folly by his brother.
Nothin’ more than that. I wish I understood his way of thinkin’ more. ”
“Ye will, in time,” April said. “Marriage is a learnin’, nae a knowin’.”
Gracie nodded slowly. She imagined the ceilidh, the music and laughter, and herself standing beside Jaxon. Fear still lingered, but it was no longer alone with her maid at her side.
As the fire crackled, Gracie straightened in her chair.
“I will try,” she said quietly.
April smiled. “That is all any of us can do.”
In that moment, Gracie felt less like a frightened girl and more like a woman standing at the edge of her own becoming. She opened her mouth to thank April, but hearing familiar footsteps approach stalled her.
Soon, the door opened and Margaret reentered the sitting room with brisk steps and a satisfied smile.
“All is set, lass, and yer breakfast is on its way,” she said, glancing toward the hearth.
Gracie looked up and replied, “Ye work harder than any servant, Mama.”
Margaret chuckled. “For me daughter, I would move mountains.”
A knock came at the door, and servants entered bearing trays of breakfast. Bowls of bright berries glistened beside wedges of sheep’s cheese, and steam rose from cups of dark tea. Honey gleamed atop warm roasted fish, filling the room with sweetness. Gracie’s stomach growled softly at the sight.
Margaret arranged the trays and said, “This will settle yer stomach and make yer skin glow by evenin’.”
Gracie smiled and replied, “If it does both, I shall call it magic.”
Her mother handed her a cup. “Drink, lass, and trust me.”
Gracie obeyed, warmth spreading through her.
They ate together, speaking of the night to come and the ceilidh awaiting them.
“It will nae be like the McDougal feasts,” Margaret said thoughtfully.
Gracie answered, “Nay, but perhaps it will become familiar in time.”
Margaret nodded. “This is yer home now, and it will shape itself around ye.”
Gracie held her cup, imagining music echoing through new halls.
After the meal, April cleared the trays while Margaret guided Gracie to a cushioned chair.
“We must begin,” her mother said, uncorking a small vial.
She warmed oil between her palms and smoothed it along Gracie’s arms.
“This'll make yer skin soft as rose petals,” Margaret added.
“I'll go gather flowers to put in yer hair,” April said before slipping away.
Margaret held wool cloth to Gracie’s hair to attempt to dry it faster, “Hold still,” she said gently.
Gracie asked, “Do ye think the McMillan clan will be acceptin’ of me?”
Her mother paused. “Aye, I think they will.”
April returned with sprigs of heather and tiny white blooms.
“For luck,” she said.
Gracie inhaled their fresh scent and smiled. “It smells like home,” she whispered.
April replied, “Then carry it with ye into this new life.”
Margaret nodded in agreement.
Gracie stood while Margaret lifted a linen chemise over her head. “Arms up, lass.”
April knelt to roll fine wool stockings up her calves and murmured, “These are spun soft for comfort, me lady, nay itch to trouble ye.”
Gracie glanced down and said, “I feel as though I am being built piece by piece.”
Margaret chuckled. “Aye, and each piece is to keep ye warm, modest, and well-held.”
Next came the stays, firm but carefully shaped, and Margaret warned, “Breathe slow, Gracie, this is nae a cage.”
Gracie winced slightly and said, “It feels as though it kens me secrets.”
April tied the laces with practiced hands and replied, “It only kens how to hold ye proud.”
Margaret smoothed the fabric and said, “There, see how it lifts ye, how it gives ye carriage.”
A quilted petticoat followed, warm and weighty, then another lighter layer that swayed when she moved.
Gracie lifted her skirts and laughed, “I could hide a bairn in all this cloth.”
April grinned. “Or secrets, or sweet cakes, should ye grow peckish.”
Margaret added, “Every layer tells the world ye are a woman of standin’, and they will see it before ye speak.”
The gown came last, pale blue with embroidered edges, and it settled over her like water over stone.
Gracie swallowed and asked, “Do ye think he will find me fair in this?”
April answered before Margaret could, “He would be blind nae to.”
“It is a bonnie dress,” Gracie said.
April grinned. “Ye are bonnie as well, me lady.”
Margaret fastened the buttons and stepped back. “See how it falls, how it honors yer shape?” she said.
Gracie studied herself in the mirror, uncertain but intrigued. “It doesnae hide me,” she murmured.
Margaret answered firmly, “It need nae, for there is nothin’ to hide.”
Gracie disagreed. She felt nervous, and wished that she could stay hidden instead of having all eyes on her.
“Now sit, lass,” Margaret stood behind her, fingers deft and gentle as she divided Gracie’s brown hair into shining sections. “Yer hair is as thick as autumn wheat, and it deserves care.”
April passed her sprigs of heather and tiny white blooms, saying, “These will rest along the braid, like stars upon a river.”
Gracie watched in the mirror and whispered, “It feels like ye are weavin’ courage into me.”
“Aye,” Margaret replied, threading a blossom into place, “for every flower carries a blessin’.”
April leaned close and added, “This one is for joy, and this one for strength, and this one so ye never forget who ye are.”
Gracie’s eyes softened, and she said, “I will carry ye all with me, wherever I go.”
Margaret finished the braid and kissed her crown, saying, “Then ye will never truly be alone.”
When they finished, Gracie scarcely recognized herself. Her hair shone, her skin glowed, and the soft dress framed her in gentle grace. She stood straighter, as though the mirror revealed not only beauty but possibility.
“I have never looked so…” she began.
Margaret finished, “So ready.”
Gracie turned to them both, emotion swelling in her chest. “Thank ye, for everythin’,” she said.
April curtsied playfully. “We are honored, Lady McMillan.”
Margaret embraced her daughter. “Tonight, ye will shine, and all will see who ye truly are.”
“I feel different, as though I have stepped into another self,” Gracie said.
Margaret kissed her cheek and replied, “Ye have, lass, but the heart within remains the same.”
Gracie drew a steadying breath, ready to meet the night that awaited her.
I hope I daenae disappoint him in the same way I disappointed his brother.