Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“Riders from the north passed the bridge this morning,” Ewan said as soon as Darragh stepped outside, his voice low and urgent. “One of them bore the Mackenzie stag.”
Darragh rested his chin in his hand, considering the information. He trusted Ewan’s judgment, knowing his right-hand man wasn’t one to stir up trouble when there wasn’t any, but he had more to worry about than just the implications of rival clansmen riding through their territory.
“Perhaps we should invite them to the spring hunt,” he said after a long moment, thoughtful rather than alarmed.
“Invite them,” Ewan replied slowly, looking at Darragh as if he’d lost his mind. “Me Laird, they werenae authorized to be ridin’ through our lands.”
“I ken,” Darragh replied. “But I daenae think we should be engagin’ in fights right now. There are still loose ends to be tied up with the hunt where we found the lasses.”
“So ye’re suggestin’ that rather than pursuin’ them and demandin’ to ken why they’re here, we treat them as our guests?” Ewan asked, speaking each word slowly as if he were worried that Darragh wasn’t understanding him.
“Aye,” he confirmed. “Perhaps we invite Lairds from the east and north as well.”
“Ye’ve a reason ye’ve nae told me,” Ewan said after a moment, folding his arms over his chest.
“It’s nae a bad thing to foster diplomatic relationships with the men in charge of the territories around us,” Darragh pointed out before glancing inside the shop where Amelia and Abigail were looking over different patterned bolts of cloth.
“And I still daenae ken enough about Amelia. If someone kens the lass, it may help us find her family.”
“Ye’re tryin’ to return her?” Ewan asked.
“I’m only tryin’ to do what’s best for her,” Darragh argued, though Mrs. Rowan’s words echoed in his head. “I cannae make a decision without kennin’ everythin’ I can. But I’m nae tryin’ to pawn her off onto someone else. She’s welcome at Fraser Keep.”
“And she’ll be welcome until the gatherin’?”
“Of course,” Darragh replied firmly. “She cannae leave yet. Nae until I ken who her family is and where she would be goin’ back to. I need to see her safe.”
“Ach, I see,” Ewan said, still seeming to buzz with the nervous energy of his ride here. “And when ye do?”
Just as Darragh was formulating an answer, a woman slipped past them, bowing politely to Darragh. Then, she opened the shop door, going inside to see the seamstress. He grunted, looking back at his man-at-arms.
“We will keep an eye on the riders,” Darragh said to Ewan, not dismissing his concerns. “But at the moment, we must think of Amelia as well. And perhaps invitin’ them to the spring hunt would allow us to figure out what their motivations are.”
When Ewan nodded his assent, Darragh stepped back toward the shop. Leaving Amelia alone when they were in public for any amount of time made him anxious.
His hand on the door, Ewan cleared his throat. “I ken ye came with Amelia in a carriage. Is that how ye’re sendin’ her home?”
“Nay,” Darragh said, his fingers tightening on the brass. When he spoke again, his voice was firm. “She’ll ride with me. I’m nae takin’ any chances.”
* * *
“I ken this isnae made to yer exact measurements,” Abigail was saying as she helped Amelia into a deep green gown, “but it willnae drag along the ground when ye walk.”
“That would be an improvement,” Amelia said quietly, the action of being dressed in something that didn’t hang from her feeling foreign, though it hadn’t been all that long since this had happened before.
She still remembered her last visit to the seamstress. Her father had complimented the colors she’d picked, his voice deceptively appreciative. Even looking back on it, she couldn’t have predicted that he’d sell her to the Hunt. He’d pretended to be so loving, so warm, in front of the seamstress.
I was naive, thinkin’ that kindness could mean care and protection. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll betray me. I couldnae even trust me own father.
“There we are,” Abigail said, fussing with the fabric at Amelia’s waist and making it lie just so. “Ye look even more bonnie in somethin’ that fits ye. I will be right back. I may have some shoes that fit ye better than the ones ye’re wearin’ as well.”
Amelia nodded, then stepped in front of the mirror. She didn’t look directly at herself at first, instead choosing to track the movements of Darragh and the man outside. He was someone she vaguely recognized. She could only assume that he was Darragh’s second in command.
While she was curious about what they were talking about, what had been so urgent that the man had come to find Darragh while they were in the village, those thoughts disappeared almost as soon as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Unlike the borrowed gown she’d been wearing when she arrived, this one didn’t have a single stain from a previous owner. It hugged her waist, showing off the curves she was sure were gone. The neckline hid the worst of her bruising, making it look as though she’d been carrying on a normal life.
“Oh,” she whispered, turning slightly to get a full view of herself. “This is…”
Just a few days ago, Amelia would have balked at the idea of ever seeing herself like this again.
Abigail had taken the liberty of putting a new ribbon on the end of her braid, a luxury that was laughable when she was rationing out water.
The sleeves of the gown even reached far enough to cover the angry marks from iron cuffs.
The door opened then, making her jump. When she turned, another woman had stepped inside, nodding politely at Amelia before walking to the counter to await Abigail. As the door closed, Amelia caught the now-familiar voice of Darragh, but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.
“Ach, it’s nice to see ye, dear!” Abigail said, emerging from the back room carrying an armful of shoes. “I’ll be with ye in just a moment.” She stopped in front of Amelia, kneeling to place the items near her feet. “I’m a wee bit busy today. I pray ye forgive me.”
“Nay need to worry,” Amelia assured, turning back to her reflection and taking half a step closer. “I can only assume we dinnae have an appointment.”
“The Laird kens that I daenae mind fittin’ him and anyone he brings into me schedule,” the seamstress replied as she rose to full height again, a playful twinkle in her eye. “This shouldnae take too long.”
As she stepped away, Amelia watched Darragh and his man-at-arms through the mirror. The other man seemed tense and perhaps a bit frustrated with Darragh. As Darragh spoke, his words unheard by her, she could tell that he was decisive in whatever decisions he was making.
He’s a leader who’s sure of himself. I suppose it’s admirable, especially with the way the people on his lands react to him.
“I daenae have time to try these on,” the woman told Abigail, “but I trust they’re perfect after the last alteration.”
“If they arenae, ye come right to me,” Abigail said, her kind voice reminding Amelia of the seamstress she grew up working with. “Give me well-wishes to yer boys.”
“I will,” the woman replied, gathering her purchases,
Amelia watched through the mirror as the woman passed Abigail a few coins. She waited patiently as they were counted. Then, she turned to leave, but when she opened the door, she came to an abrupt stop, her path blocked by Darragh.
“Then I’ll return her where she came from.”
His words were loud in the quiet room, making Amelia’s entire body coil. She didn’t need to hear the rest of the conversation or ask for the context to know that Darragh was speaking about her. And that statement only confirmed her worst fears.
He’s goin’ to send me back, just as I thought he was. All his kindness was simply a ruse. He must be collectin’ a sum of money, and when I get back…
It seemed as though the entire shop went still, all of the air sucked out of the room through the slightly opened door.
She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the eyes that were on her.
The temptation to hide away, to make herself small, was overwhelming—the only thing that stopped her from doing so was the sheer stubbornness that carried her through her life.
Still, the dress she was wearing felt as if it were far too snug, and the reflection in the mirror was no longer a thing of joy.
It felt as if the wall of this place were closing in on her.
She was back in the dungeons, tied up and shoved into a carriage at her father’s insistence, and chained to the wall of the tower.
On shaky legs, she walked over to a bench, sitting as the room began to spin. The edges of her vision were fuzzy, the same way they had been before her fainting spell. As she sucked in deep breaths, Abigail walked over to her, concern etched into her features.
“Are ye well, lass?” she asked, her hands resting on Amelia’s knees, a grounding presence. “Ye just got very pale of a sudden.”
“I’m quite all right,” Amelia forced out, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I just got a wee bit lightheaded.”
“I’ll get ye some water and fan ye for a bit,” Abigail said, standing and rushing to the back of the shop.
Before she returned, Darragh stepped inside. His eyes instantly found Amelia, his brow furrowing. She thought that he had no right to look as if he were concerned about her. He was the one who was willing to return her to her father simply because he thought she belonged there.
“There ye are,” Abigail said, pressing a goblet into her hands. She stepped back, using the fan she’d procured from somewhere unseen to waft air onto Amelia’s face. “Ye’re already beginnin’ to get yer color back.”
“Did somethin’ happen?” Darragh asked roughly, beginning to take a step forward before apparently thinking better of it.
“I was just beginnin’ to overheat,” Amelia replied, the statement terse as his words echoed in her head.
I daenae think me father will try to sell me again… nay, he’ll take care of me and nay have to worry about me tryin’ to claim me inheritance rather than takin’ another chance.
“I’ll have the healer look ye over when we return to the castle,” he decided, going back to settle onto the bench on the other side of the room. “Are ye nearly finished?”
“Aye,” Abigail said, still fanning rhythmically. “I’ll send ye both on yer way once we find a pair of shoes that fits Amelia.”
“Ye daenae need to fan me any longer,” Amelia assured, taking a measured sip of the cool water. “I can sit as I try on the shoes.”
Abigail looked as if she wanted to argue, but she obeyed, setting the fan aside. As she slipped the first pair onto Amelia’s feet, the only thing Amelia could think about was getting back to the castle, where she could shut herself in her quarters.
I need to figure out a way to escape.
“These fit just fine,” Amelia said when Abigail slipped on the third pair. “I appreciate yer help. Ye dinnae have to give me all of these things.”
“It’s nae a problem at all,” Abigail assured her as she stood, offering her hand to Amelia. “I’m glad to help a guest of Laird Fraser.”
Amelia nodded, giving the woman a tight smile. For a moment, she’d felt herself believing she was truly a guest. Now, though, she was sure she was a prisoner. This time, her cage was simply gilded.
As Amelia walked toward the door, Darragh headed to the counter, placing a bag of coins there and promising Abigail that he’d send for the garments in a week. Amelia was nearly outside when he caught up with her. His hand was strong on her elbow when he grabbed her.
“Ye will be ridin’ back to Fraser Keep with me,” he said, guiding her to his horse that stood waiting.
“I’m perfectly fine with ridin’ back in the carriage,” she replied, stiffening in his grasp. “I prefer it.”
“Ach, I ken,” he said, sounding almost convincingly apologetic.
She knew better, though. She’d heard that he would be returning her to where she belonged.
’ “This is a safety precaution. I can get ye back faster if it’s just the two of us.
I’m nae askin’ for yer permission, Amelia.
I’m tellin’ ye this is how ye’re bein’ transported. ”
“Of course,” she relented, biting her tongue to keep from saying anything more. They were surrounded by villagers. She knew better than to cause a scene in such a populated area. “I suppose I cannae complain if it means the journey is shorter.”
“Smart lass.”
As she was helped into the saddle, each place his hands touched seemed to burn. The dress itched, and staying still, allowing this to happen, felt like a violation of her very being.