Chapter 20
The cold evening settled softly against the glass. Candles flickered at the corners of the room and illuminated the mess Ava had made.
Emma caught the smell of cotton and looked around. Gowns lay everywhere, with silk and wool ribbons hanging off the bed and creating a giant puddle on the floor.
Ava held up a deep green silk gown and squinted one eye. “What about this one?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Too bold. I am trying to look pleasant, nae like I mean to frighten him.”
Ava snorted and tossed the gown onto the growing heap. “Then maybe this one?” She lifted a pale blue dress with lace sleeves and shook it so the lace fluttered.
“Too meek,” Emma chuckled. “He’ll think I’ve come to beg forgiveness for something I havenae done.”
“Ye ken, something tells me he is going to like that.”
Emma laughed, and Ava held up another dress.
“Nay.”
Ava sighed. “Ye’re something else, do ye ken that?”
“I am cautious.” Emma tugged a fourth dress free from under two more. “There is a difference.”
The wardrobe gave up another armful, and the mattress sank under the weight.
Ava planted her fists on her hips. “What are ye even trying to say with this dress of yers?”
“That I am nae a fool,” Emma said. “That I am nae some easy lass he can just convince with his words. That I will hear him out, and that is all.”
“So a sermon,” Ava murmured. “Ye want a sermon stitched in cloth.”
“A small one,” Emma deadpanned. “Quiet letters. Only the clever ones can read them.”
Ava snorted again and pulled another gown free. “This one?”
“Nay,” Emma said quickly. “The sleeves pinch.”
Ava turned it inside out. “Ye havenae worn it since Saint Bride’s festival a few weeks ago.”
“I ken. I havenae worn it because the sleeves pinch,” Emma emphasized.
Ava threw the gown onto the chair. “I am losing patience with ye, do ye ken that?”
“Join the club,” Emma drawled, but she smiled as she set a simple grey dress aside and placed it in a stack of dresses she might resort to at the end of the day.
Ava nodded and walked to the edge of the bed. Then, she settled beside her sister and bounced once. “Maybe this isnae about the dress, after all.”
Emma reached for a fallen ribbon and picked it up. “What else would it be about?”
“Maybe ye’re overcompensating for somethin’ else,” Ava mused. “Maybe ye’re growing fond of him.”
Emma’s laugh came quickly and was a touch sharp. “Fond? Certainly nae.”
Ava folded her hands in her lap and studied her. “Then why is that paper still blank?”
“What paper?” Emma asked, though she knew.
“The one ye keep beside yer bed,” Ava said, the patience in her voice evident. “If it were a man ye hated, ye’d have written a full poem by now.”
Emma dropped the ribbon. “Just because I daenae love him, doesnae mean I hate him.”
“So ye like him,” Ava concluded.
“I didnae say that,” Emma protested, the alarm in her voice growing with each word. She realized in hindsight that defensiveness did not exactly help her case. “I said I daenae hate him.”
Ava cocked her head. “A step is still a step.”
Emma crossed to the washstand and fidgeted with the comb there. “What I feel is none of his business.”
“It is yers,” Ava said. “And mine, because I have to listen to ye figure it out.”
Emma set the comb down. “Are ye saying that ye are tired of hearing me talk about him?”
“I am saying that I am tired of hearing ye lie about him,” Ava corrected lightly. “Try the blue dress again.”
“Nay.” Emma picked up the grey one.
She held it against her figure and turned to face the mirror. The cut was plain; the line clean. It said nothing in particular, and that suited her. She looked at her face for a moment, then sighed loudly.
Ava saw the look and softened. “What do ye see happening if ye marry him?”
Emma breathed in, then out. “I daenae ken,” she mumbled. “Maybe I’ll take care of Stella properly. The girl needs someone steady. He says the marriage would be in name only, and if I become Lady MacLeod, I’ll be protected.”
Ava nodded slowly. “If that is the story ye tell yerself, what is stopping ye?”
Emma kept her eyes on the grey dress in her hands. “I daenae ken,” she admitted. “Perhaps it was the noise we heard that day during training.”
“What noise?” Ava asked.
Emma shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Emma,” Ava pressed. “What noise?”
“It was like a rustle in the woods,” Emma answered. “Jack heard it, too. There was someone there. He wouldnae say more. And we saw smoke and fire in the far field this afternoon.”
Ava went still. “So what did ye think happened?”
“I daenae ken what I think,” Emma said. “I guess I’m scared. That’s all.”
For a while, the only sound was the small scrape of Ava’s boot on the floor. Then she stood, crossed to the wardrobe, and reached inside. She came back with a dark wine-red dress and laid it over the grey one.
“This should work.”
Emma touched the fabric. It was heavier than the blue dress but warmer than the green one. The color seemed to sit well against her hands as well.
“Aye,” she said. “Thank ye.”
“Ye can wear this ribbon as well.” Ava handed her one of the many ribbons lying at the foot of the bed. “It seems to match the dress.”
“I ken what it matches,” Emma said, but there was no bite in her voice.
Ava smiled. “If he looks too pleased, ye can scowl,” she suggested. “Ye cannae give him any reason to be too confident while talking to ye.”
“Nae once has he ever spoken to me without confidence, Ava,” Emma said.
“Good to ken.” Ava folded the pale blue dress and stacked it neatly. “I will send Lara to lace ye.”
“I can lace me own dress,” Emma protested.
Ava arched an eyebrow. “Ye will do it crooked and swear at me for letting ye. Let me be useful.”
“Ye are always useful,” Emma assured, and the words came easily this time.
Ava’s mouth softened. “Ma will want news,” she warned. “Nae the whole tale, just enough to keep her from fretting.”
“I will tell her that I chose a dress,” Emma said. “And that I didnae faint.”
“I would have paid good coin to see ye faint,” Ava snorted.
“Ye are a bad sister,” Emma mock scolded. “Bring me the pins.”
Ava fetched the small tin and set it by the mirror. “Do ye want the ribbon plain, or tied at the back?”
“Plain,” Emma said. “Nay fuss.”
“Nay fuss,” Ava echoed, then made a face at the pile of dresses on the bed and the floor. “Tell that to this.”
Emma gave in and smiled. “Get out of me room. I will change, and ye will come back and pretend that ye are surprised.”
“I am always surprised by ye.” Ava leaned in and kissed her sister’s cheek, quick and warm. “Daenae let him talk ye into anything daft.”
“He never could,” Emma said.
“Mm,” Ava murmured, not convinced, but slipped out anyway, pulling the door shut behind her.
The room felt larger once she was gone.
The wine-red dress lay alone now, neat and ready. Emma lifted it and draped it over the chair, then set the grey one aside without regret. She unhooked her day dress and let it slide down to the floor. A rush of evening air kissed her shoulders.
She stood like that for a moment and listened to the noises of the castle, just like she always did when she was alone. She could hear faint voices in the far passageway. Perhaps the guards were making a few more changes before retiring for the night.
She pulled the wine-red dress over her head and worked it down. The fabric moved easily. When she reached back for the laces, the door creaked open, and Ava poked her head in.
“I said I would send Lara,” she said, already crossing toward her. “Well, I might as well do it meself.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Ava continued, “Turn around.”
Emma turned and braced her palms against the wall. Ava looped the laces through the eyelets and drew them firm.
“Nae too tight,” Emma reminded her.
“I ken how ye breathe,” Ava muttered. “Hold on.”
Emma obeyed as the dress closed neatly and smoothly around her back. Ava gave the laces one last tug, then tucked the ends.
“There.” Ava stepped back. “Look.”
Emma turned back to the mirror. The color flattered her skin perfectly, just as she knew it would.
The dress looked fabulous. It hugged her body appropriately and hung around her like a choice she had made well and on purpose.
“It will do,” she allowed.
“It will do very well,” Ava said. “Now, the ribbon.”
Emma hesitated, then shook her head. “Nay. Nay ribbon. Nae tonight.”
Ava considered and let it slide. “Shoes, then.”
“Shoes,” Emma echoed.
She bent, slipped them on, and straightened.
Ava went to the door. “I will wait in the corridor and see if anyone else needs help with anything. Knock when ye are ready.”
“I will,” Emma said.
Ava left, and the door clicked shut behind her.
Emma braced her hands on the back of the chair and looked at the wine-red fabric where it folded at her waist. She strained her ears again, hoping to hear something, but nothing came forth. Nothing except the sound of the logs popping in the fireplace, anyway.
She lifted her chin and drew a steady breath. Then another.
The mess on the bed could wait, but the hour, on the other hand, could not. She stood for a long moment with her fingers on her waist, letting the silence slow her churning thoughts.
Emma found Jack later that night waiting outside his study, hands tucked behind his back, shoulders squared. His white shirt hung around his torso, and his leather trousers reflected the low candlelight.
He looked at her, and for a breath, he went very still. She knew the bodice pushed up her breasts, and she jutted her chin as if it did not matter. Satisfaction curved her lips as she noticed the look on his face.
He was entranced.
That was it.
That was the feeling she was going for. The real statement she wanted to make.
“So what did ye have in mind for tonight?” she asked, half curious, half guarded. Something about the look on his face gave her much-needed courage.
His gaze rose to her face at once. “Ye’ll see soon enough. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”