Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“Nay,” Amelia said stubbornly, glaring at Darragh. “I willnae be leavin’ this room. The healer told me that I need me rest.”
Darragh let out a noise that was a mix between a sigh and a growl. She took that as a sign that she was getting close to breaking his patience. Perhaps he’d finally leave her be.
“I’ve consulted with Mrs. Rowan and Hazel,” he said, each word coming out slowly, strained by his irritation. “They both agree that ye’re fine to go into the village to get yerself something to wear that fits ye properly.”
“Ach, but what did Isla say?” she challenged. “Does she agree? I trust her judgment.”
“Isla also thinks ye’d be much more comfortable in clothing that belongs to ye,” he replied.
Amelia scoffed. She desperately wanted to leave the castle, but she didn’t want his kindness, and she certainly didn’t want to risk another day of incessant questioning.
She turned her back to him, afraid he’d see too much on her face.
As she did so, she caught sight of herself in the mirror that was in her chambers.
The clothing she wore, while nice, was too big for her.
It wasn’t as comfortable as a well-fitted corset and a gown that didn’t threaten to trip her with each step she took.
“Leavin’ the castle will be good for ye,” he said when she didn’t protest further. “We’re nay goin’ to parade around. We’ll see the seamstress then return.”
“I suppose ye’re right,” she relented, refusing to look at him as she made the concession. “I would like to have a new gown.”
“And ye will have one,” he replied. “I will have a carriage for ye prepared for the journey. Jinny will come and fetch ye when it’s ready.”
When he left, Amelia let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing a bit. She supposed that she could stomach a trip to the village if she was able to ride in a carriage. She hoped, however, that Darragh wouldn’t be riding inside with her.
Jinny arrived to fetch her less than half an hour later, knocking on the door in that animated way of hers, saying, “Miss! Are ye ready?” She pushed it open slightly, peeking around the edge. “Do ye need me to help ye with anythin’?”
“Nay, I’m still dressed from earlier,” Amelia said, giving the woman her best approximation of a kind smile as she walked toward her. “I dinnae get a chance to shed any layers before Laird Fraser came to insist I go to the village.”
“Ach, for yer new wardrobe, he told me,” Jinny enthused, pulling the door shut when Amelia exited. “Are ye lookin’ forward to it? It’s quite balmy out. It’s an excellent day for gettin’ out of the keep.”
“I’m sure it will be nice,” Amelia agreed, though she didn’t really believe it. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending a day with Darragh, but her maid did have a point.
As they stepped into the sunlight, a carriage was waiting, and Darragh was blessedly on his own steed. She relaxed a bit, giving Jinny a curt nod as she approached the guard next to the door. Hesitantly, she accepted his hand, letting herself be helped inside.
Almost as soon as the door was shut behind her, the wheels began to turn. The ride was a bit bumpy as they traversed over the cobbled courtyard, but when they reached the dirt road, things felt a bit smoother. She leaned back, holding herself straight, but her eyes found the scenery they passed by.
It is quite bonnie. He couldnae have picked a better day to bring me out of me quarters.
The carriage came to a stop on a sparsely populated street, the door opening to reveal Darragh. He presented his palm and said, “We’re leavin’ the carriage here. Ye’ll be ridin’ with me to the seamstress.”
“Ye’re nae goin’ to tie me to the saddle again, are ye?” she asked, ignoring his hand and dropping onto the ground as gracefully as she could. The landing made a few of her bruises ache, but she didn’t let the discomfort show.
“Nae unless ye give me reason to,” he said, his tone serious but the corner of his mouth tugging upward.
She marched over to his horse and nearly threw herself in the saddle before she remembered the story she’d told him. Already, she’d made too many missteps. Another would attract more scrutiny.
I’m quite certain I’m correct in thinkin’an orphan wouldnae ken how to ride.
So, she waited, shifting from foot to foot impatiently, as he walked over. Then, begrudgingly, she allowed him to place her into the saddle.
“And just how far will we be riding?” she asked as he climbed in behind her, his chest pressing firmly against her back, radiating heat and strength that made her insides twist in a curious way.
“Nae too far,” he said, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. He urged the horse forward at a steady pace. “If we daenae ride, I’m sure we’ll be stopped.”
She furrowed her brow, unsure of what he could possibly mean. The question was answered almost instantly. A woman stopped pulling weeds from her garden, her gaze locking onto the two of them, a wide grin spreading across her face.
“Laird Fraser!” she exclaimed, stepping forward. “We werenae expectin’ ye here today. Nor were we expectin’ a guest. We would have arranged a meal.”
“We’re nae stayin’ for long, Isabella,” Darragh said, slowing the horse but not coming to a stop. “We’ve got a bit of business, then we’ll be on our way.”
“That’s a shame,” she said as they passed her by. “But I’m glad I got to see ye!”
Strange. She looked at Laird Fraser as if he could do no wrong.
Amelia wondered what kind of life the woman lived that she would trust a man like the Laird.
It hadn’t been anything like that on her father’s land.
The village itself must be relatively safe.
That theory carried her all the way to seamstress.
But, as they were getting off, a man standing just outside the inn across the street made a noise of disbelief.
“Laird Fraser,” he called, not moving, “ye should have sent word that ye were comin’. I would have been in me kitchen preparin’ somethin’ for ye.”
“Nay need, Hugh, but it is appreciated,” Darragh said as he tied the horse to a post. “Nay other reports of thieves, aye?”
“Nay. Ye were right,” the man said. “It was the kids livin’ in the cottage right outside the village. I’ve got the eldest comin’ to clean me kitchens twice a week. I’ve been sendin’ him home with enough to feed himself and the wee ones.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Darragh said, starting toward the seamstress’ door.
“Ach, if ye’re lookin’ for Abigail, she’s at the market buyin’ furs,” Hugh said. “She should be gettin’ back any minute now.”
“Well, I suppose that means we have some time,” he said, looking over at Amelia, breaking her out of the spell she’d fallen under. “There’s a few market stalls down this way.”
She nodded numbly. As they walked, she tried to wrap her mind around the kind of leader that he was. The way he’d behaved with her was indicative of a tyrant, yet the way the people of the village greeted him spoke of a respect that was earned through compassionate leadership.
“Ye see anythin’ ye like?” he asked as they approached a stall.
Amelia forced her eyes to focus on the goods displayed in front of her. There wasn’t much of note, most of it more appealing to children than adults, but her eyes caught on a collection of glass orbs. She reached out, running her fingertips over the smooth surfaces.
“I used to love marbles,” she admitted quietly.
Darragh didn’t respond, but he examined her as if she’d given him another piece of a puzzle. She looked away from him, her face flushed. When she caught sight of small lace kerchiefs at a nearby stall, she shuffled over to them and busied herself with looking at the intricate designs.
When she felt the heat from his body to her left, she forced herself to continue running her fingertips over the threads. His voice low, he said, “Come now, Abigail. And take that with ye, I’ve already paid for it.”
Slowly, she met his gaze. After a beat, she glanced toward the merchant, then back at the fabric in her hands. Not quite believing his kindness, she gave a short bob of her head and followed him away from the stall, the softness of the kerchief a strange anchor in the storm brewing in her mind.
* * *
“Ach, look at ye!” Abigail said, her measuring tape in hand as she looked at Amelia. “How’d ye ken I was goin’ to ask ye to step up there?”
“I…” Amelia started, clearing her throat and carefully avoiding Darragh’s gaze. “I thought that it would be the logical place for me to be.”
“Gettin’ measurements doesnae come intuitively to everyone,” the seamstress said, stepping forward. “Ye’re makin’ me job so much easier.”
Darragh sat on a bench against the wall, watching as the two women worked.
He was sure now that Amelia had been raised in a castle.
She seemed to anticipate each request the seamstress had before it was voiced.
This was a woman who had had her measurements taken too many times before to be an orphan.
“I ken we’re supposed to get yer proper measurements,” Abigail said, her tape circling Amelia’s waist, “but I can tell ye’ve nae been eatin’ enough. Laird Fraser will see to it that ye’re fed properly, so I’m goin’ to leave ye just a wee bit of room.”
“We’ll return if she needs new gowns,” Darragh said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I would prefer that she’s comfortable.”
“Aye, and she will be,” the seamstress said, clicking her tongue at his attempts to control the fitting. “But she will gain a few centimeters quite quickly at first. Then it’ll taper off.” She met his eye over Amelia’s shoulder. “Ye’re nae an expert in the female body, Me Laird.”
He scoffed, holding his tongue from making a comment that would be inappropriate in polite company. As he turned his head away, he said, “I just want ye to ken that I’m nae goin’ to make her wear things that are ill-fittin’. I’ll get her as many gowns as she needs and come as often as necessary.”
Amelia’s shoulders stiffened at that, the kindness seeming to come down on her like a blow.
Even Abigail seemed to notice, though she didn’t comment on it.
Instead, she said, “Well, I’d expect nothin’ else from ye.
And while I’m certainly nae complainin’ about the work, I’m only sayin’ that for a bit ye’d need fairly regular trips in.
I cannae imagine anyone would want to take that much time out of their day.
Ye’re a busy man, and Miss Amelia seems as though she’s got the makin’s of a busy woman. ”
“I will trust yer judgment, then,” Darragh relented, leaning his shoulders against the wall.
That earned him an approving smile from Abigail before she went back to her work.
She was efficient, muttering to herself as she measured each part of Amelia’s body twice before jotting down the numbers in a little ledger she pulled from her apron pocket.
He was sure he heard the woman talking about colors and types of fabric, though it didn’t seem as if she was speaking to anyone but herself.
The sun slowly made its way across the sky, the afternoon light streaming into the shop through the windows at the front. Abigail’s head popped up, tracking the shadows. She deliberated quietly with herself for a moment before nodding and stepping back from Amelia.
“I need ye to stand over here,” she said, walking toward a golden beam. “I’m goin’ to study yer frame, so I ken what kind of gown will flatter ye the best.”
He saw the way that Amelia seemed to have an answer, but kept it to herself. Dutifully, she walked over to where the seamstress had indicated, the sunlight to her back. The outline of her form fell along the floor, shadowed and exaggerated.
“This way, lass,” Abigail said, putting a hand on Amelia’s waist and shifting her slightly, turning her body so the rays caught her in exactly the way she intended.
Darragh couldn’t help but stare at the woman. He’d seen her beauty; he’d have to be blind not to. But he’d been more concerned with keeping her safe. This was the first time he was able to simply observe.
Now, he was struck by her. The sun caught her hair, making it shinier than normal, transforming it into a halo around her head that made her look angelic. The pale skin of her body glowed under the golden warmth. She was ethereal, and he didn’t think he could stop noticing it now that he’d seen it.
“Perfect,” Abigail said as she fetched her ledger and the wax pen. “Stay there for just a few moments.”
As the woman worked, making her notes, the rest of the room seemed to fall away.
The only thing Darragh was capable of focusing on was Amelia.
He committed each curve to memory, cataloging the way her body moved just so when she was standing idly.
The gentle rise and fall of her chest were rhythmic, and there was a slight sway to her hips as she shifted foot to foot.
Ach, lass… so bonnie.
The bruises, still visible, weren’t as prominent as the day that he’d rescued her, fading from a deep purple to a softer blue.
Her wrists, while still showing evidence of the shackles that kept her captive, were scabbed over and healing steadily.
As the healer had said, her body was recovering steadily.
When his gaze trailed up to her face, she was already watching him. Quickly, he masked the admiration he was feeling, but he could tell that she had caught it. A shy smile affixed itself to her pink lips, and she looked away, suddenly entranced with the seamstress fussing at her waist.
“I ken exactly the gowns I’m goin’ to make for ye,” she said, the measuring tape appearing once more as she checked her measurements a third time.
“But before I can get to work, I need ye to pick out the fabrics and colors. I’ve already come up with a few ideas, but these are yer gowns.
I want ye to feel comfortable and confident in them. ”
Amelia nodded, stepping away from the window. It seemed that she was suddenly very aware of the eyes that had been roaming over her. She didn’t hide away, though, keeping her shoulders pulled back and her chin held high.
A shadow passed by the window, coming to a stop next to the horse that the two of them had ridden here. Then, a man’s form appeared, the eyes squinting inside. Darragh recognized him instantly. Ewan. His man-at-arms.
Ewan held up his hand, closing his fist and jerking his head back. The signal, while mostly casual, was exaggerated. He needed to speak with Darragh alone, and the subject was urgent.
Darragh stood calmly, dusting off his trews and catching Abigail’s eye. “If ye’ll excuse me just a moment, there’s a matter I need to attend to.” Then, despite the instincts demanding he keep Amelia in his sights, he stepped outside.