Chapter 7 #2
“A weddin’!” Agnes exclaimed, clapping her hands together and looking between Margaret and Ryan. Her eyes sparkled. “How excitin’! And when’ll ye need the dress?”
“Within a sennight,” he said without looking at Margaret. “That’s when we’ll be wed.”
The two of them kept speaking, but the information unsettled Margaret. While she’d known that there might soon be a wedding, she hadn’t thought about when it would take place. She also hadn’t considered that if she were to be wed, she’d be doing so without her family here to witness it.
She wondered if she should have demanded that she and the Laird make these plans together. It would have been fair, would it not? There were two people being wed, not just one. Her opinions should have mattered at least a bit.
I still need to write to Eva to let her know I’m safe. But do I tell her I’m getting married? Should I leave that out?
As Margaret was led through the selection of fabrics in Agnes’ shop, she thought about her aunt, uncle, and Eva. She missed them dearly, and until now, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about what she’d left behind. It had been easy to get caught up in the energy of her new home.
Now, though, with her wedding hanging over her head, her family was all she could think about. She missed the familiarity of her home. She missed the conversations she and her cousin had. She missed the lessons with her aunt.
When Agnes pointed to a deep purple, soft-looking material that would be transformed into Margaret’s wedding dress, she wondered what her family would think about this situation.
Eva would likely be thrilled and perhaps even a little jealous of Margaret’s adventure.
Not only had Margaret explored a new world, but she was becoming part of it.
Her uncle… she wasn’t sure about him. He loved her and wanted nothing but the best for her, but his opinions of Highlanders were in line with her aunt’s, even if he rarely voiced them.
And her aunt… Margaret shuddered internally when she imagined her reaction. She could already see the horror on her face. Throughout her entire life, Margaret had been warned about how ruthless Scotsmen were. Her aunt would never give her blessing for this wedding, regardless of Margaret’s reasons.
She’d tell me to come back home and that we would just find a way to deal with Duke Cunningham because the Laird would surely treat me worse than he.
“Ye’re going to be the bonniest bride we’ve ever had,” Agnes said next to Margaret’s ear, looking over her shoulder and into the mirror in front of them. “This color is darlin’ on ye. Look how it makes yer eyes sparkle.”
“Thank you,” Margaret whispered, her gaze locking on her husband-to-be.
The reality of her situation became heavy, and the carefree, almost playful mood she’d been in when she and Ryan left the castle this morning morphed into something more somber.
She forced herself to put on the best mask of excitement that she could though she knew it fell flat when Agnes frowned at one of her less than enthusiastic responses.
She tried to make up for it, so she glanced back at the Laird and said to Agnes, “I’m sure the wedding will be beautiful. I hope you’ll be in attendance. You’re the first person I met when I arrived after all.”
I will make it known this wedding is mine, too, if it must happen. I can invite whoever I want.
Agnes grinned, and the tense atmosphere shifted back to one of mirth. She bounced on her toes, the white of her teeth gleaming in the light filtering in from the big windows at the front of the shop.
“I’d be honored to attend yer weddin’,” she said, draping a swatch of gold over the purple fabric she’d rested on Margaret’s shoulder. “I cannae remember the last time I attended a celebration so important.”
Margaret observed Ryan. He was watching the two of them with an eyebrow raised. She wondered if she’d broken an unspoken rule by inviting the seamstress to the celebration though she found she didn’t particularly care.
Surely everyone will attend the wedding in some capacity. This village isn’t very big. There must be room within the castle to host them.
Agnes fussed a bit more. She murmured about ensuring everything was just right, pulling more bolts of cotton and silk and laying them to the side. It seemed as though the invitation from Margaret had renewed her enthusiasm for her task.
“Well, ye’re done for now,” Agnes said after a few more minutes, stepping back with her hands on her hips.
She looked between the Laird and Margaret, a grin on her face.
Then, as though struck, she bounced on the balls of her feet.
“Ach, I finished yer other gown right before ye walked in. Wait here.”
“So when did ye visit Agnes?” Ryan asked, his voice making Margaret jump.
She’d nearly forgotten he was there; he’d been so quiet. Even their brief moment of eye contact had slipped her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that his presence was as natural as her own.
“Is that really important?” Margaret said, turning away from her reflection. Instead, she focused on the Highlander. “This was my first stop when I arrived in Scotland.”
“Ye arrived without clothes?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. His head was tilted just so.
“No,” she huffed, narrowing her eyesthough her flushing cheeks betrayed her. “Travel was unkind to the dress I wore on my way here.”
“Here ye are!” Agnes said, appearing with a parchment-wrapped package, interrupting the rest of their conversation.
She presented it to Margaret, but Ryan stepped forward to take it, saying, “Thank ye, Agnes.”
“Anythin’ for our newest Lady,” she said, giving another curtsy. “I’ll have me cousin deliver yer dresses when I’m finished.”
“Thank you,” Margaret said before being led out of the shop, the weight of her new title settling on her shoulders.