Chapter 11
Nella smoothed her hand over the gown Alaina had provided along with her lady’s maid to help in the process the following eve.
The elder lady’s maid grinned a smile so broad it seemed her face was only teeth.
“The lords and lads and knights shall seek your favor, my lady.” Very unlikely.
Nella pressed her palms over the emerald wool sleeves which held a fine gold embroidery near the wrist. The gown was fit for a queen. This was what they would admire.
“Here, my lady, let me smooth the veil over your hair.” Nella shifted her weight slightly, leaning over when the helper sought the sheer veil which floated over her plaited tresses and covered the top of her scalp.
It was held in place by a thin braided cord of stunning gold which matched the sleeves’ embroidery.
It truly was so lovely; Alaina should not have troubled herself.
The lady’s maid words from earlier when gown was presented echoed once more.
‘I was told to relay to you that my Lady Alaina declared you shall find a fresh – pardon, my Lady Fawnella – her precise sentiment was ‘a cocksman who is worthy to bestow a sleepless night’.” Little did Alaina or the lady’s maid know this had been sought but not in the way they thought.
After the vicious fight and her temper once again running her mouth, she had not slept a wink.
The servant cackled, bringing her back in the moment.
“Lady Fawnella, make certain your tall, dark guardsman remains stoic.” Stern gray eyes met hers.
“Bloodshed will not be favored at the feast by Scotsmen seeking your hand.” Not an issue; Callum had been scarce most of the day she had spent thinking how he was right, and she was in the wrong last night.
A horrible mistake she would set straight once she had a moment alone with him.
“Aye,” she answered in part snort. Also really, who would fight over a lady with her features?
Callum was tender and his words in admiration seemed forthright before she had turned him away.
Even if not consummated in any way, Callum knew her shape when he had pressed her close for many a kiss, but she had been younger then.
Nae curves! The colossal liver-spotted toad’s harsh branding echoed her mind.
These “nae curves” had stayed with her even after most ladies filled out.
Naw, her widow’s dowry, this was what those calling would seek.
“You are very bonny, my lady.” The giving grin appeared at her once again. “Savor the feast, they have been laboring all day in the kitchens.” She gave a fresh low cackle. “Even the roosters are runnin’ scared from the butcher’s axe.”
Nella smiled after the lady’s maid began taking her leave. “For all you offered, thank you.”
“Ack,” the elder lass called over her shoulder as she popped open the door. “’Twas a grand amount to work with, my lady, only a wee bit in polish was lacking.”
The lady’s maid vanished around the corner revealing Callum and Brayden standing just outside.
Callum didn’t move nor blink nor smile. It was as if his feet were nailed onto the passageway.
Had the sweet lady’s maid been wrong in her appraisal?
Was the gown grotesquely gaudy? Why! Why one look from those deep blue lochs at her did she melt into a puddle herself?
Get it together! Abbot and Abbess, two incredibly giving souls, may have been killed at the Thistle Glen Abbey and the very culprit could linger in the feasting hall.
All the while she stood here wringing her hands like a foolish lassie.
They demanded better. Breathe. Good. Go.
Grasping her gown’s skirts, she fluffed them slightly. First matter. Attire. “Callum, do you consider the Benefactor shall find interest with the gown?” Her query was still riddled with nerves, dammit.
Why did Callum still not move?
Sir Brayden’s reply leapt at her. “For certain, my lady!” He jabbed Callum in the rib. “Once my friend retrieves his tongue from the floorboards, I believe he shall be inclined to agree. Aye?”
Callum blinked several times. Ahem, ahem. Hell, was he choking? She dashed forward. “Exquisite, my lady.” He was well. Her step paused. Wait… exquisite? Was he well?
“Sir Brayden, will you grant us a moment?” she asked the one quickly turning out to be a fresh friend.
“Aye.” He walked toward the passageway’s end, leaving them alone.
Second matter. Apologize. Taking a deep breath, Nella began.
“I wish to apologize for my rash outburst last eve. You sought only answers; alas, I let my temper fist my emotions. ’Twas wrong.
Once we have seen to the feast and seeking the Benefactor I would care to speak upon all regarding our past. If you would care for this as well? ” Her breath halted.
Callum searched her face a long moment. “Very much, Nella.”
Her lips turned up in a smile. “Till then.”
“Till then, my lady.” For one who broke her heart. Why did this give on her part just feel so divine?
He had also been right about attachments causing distractions. Now was the time to focus. “Shall we?” Her smile turned to pursed lips by determination. “My guardsman, the one who burned an abbey and threatened those I hold dearest to me awaits.”
Callum straightened his shoulders with setting his jaw. Good, we are ready.
He extended his arm toward the passage only occupied by torches given the noise from a minstrel along with hum by guests speaking floated up the nearby stairwell. “We are at your service and await your command, my Lady Fawnella.” Her step, more steady than her nerves, sought the winding stairway.
The hum turned into a roar once they approached the great hall.
A pair of young lords perhaps ten and five raced her way, their movements erratic, most likely at sneaking more goblets than deemed proper in the mayhem.
Were they going to crash into her? Callum stepped up before her in a blink.
His massive frame seemed to swallow the passageway.
The mischievous pair froze at the sight while their mouths dropped low as a water well. They turned and flew the opposite way.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Callum gave a nod, then her guardsman took his stance behind her again.
Wringing her hands in her skirt folds, she stepped into the chamber which was alight like the sun had crashed into the highlands.
A massive chandelier that had been dark when they arrived last eve showered a glow over the whole chamber from hundreds of candles along with the wall torches.
The pungent torch fumes were swept away by the ocean in herbs upon salmon, fresh roasts including boar with a big apple in its mouth gracing the center dais table – yuck – spiced apples on trenches – yum – and breads and honey.
Callum stated, “Sir Brayden, would you please discover where we are to be seated?”
“Aye.”
At Brayden’s retreating form she gave a nod at Callum. Aye, time for the chronicle. Tilting her head in care, the voices flowed quick as the mead and wine and ale making the rounds at the horseshoe tables.
“You are more bonny than I could ever hope.” Her gaze looked up at the dais where the newly married couple sat admiring each other. How sweet of him. Lady Alaina had a charming lord for her daughter.
“Do not drop the balls or I shall lay a lash upon your hide.” Her brow furrowed while staring at the table’s open center area where a sour-featured jester ordered the younger jester about to juggle.
“My stomach aches; where are the garderobes?” a portly lord slurred on the hall’s opposite side.
Munch, munch, crunch. She rubbed her temple at all the teeth-gnashing sounding the same as hammers on granite.
“Nella,” Callum whispered behind her, “are you well? If this chronicle is too much, Sir Brayden and I may travel about the hall instead. I shall not have you placed at a stern cost of measure for this feat. There are over two hundred guests present, more than we had considered.” Her honorary Templar.
An inner smile appeared as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Callum, all is well. I…”
“Benefactor is the key. You cannot simply bed a lady, she must adore you, same as a benefactor who cares for her every whim.”
Her inner smile vanished. Benefactor. “Callum,” she said, her eyes still locked on his, “a guest is speaking, with a heavy accent born from the Kingdom of Norway. He just stated, ‘Benefactor is the key. You cannot simply bed a lady, she must adore you, same as a benefactor who cares for her every whim’.” Callum looked over the whole hall given his massive height granted the advantage while she tilted her skull a breath more.
“I say, Lord Kolson, if you seek to present wealth as bait to snare a lady, your dark blue doublet with silver trim is more than ample.”
“Callum, the nobleman is called Lord Kolson and is wearing a dark blue doublet with silver trim, and he’s speaking privately with a Scottish lord.”
“Nella, I have him, directly across the hall from where we have gathered.”
“Ack, the ladies this eve are all a tired lot from the feast last.” What an arse. “Fresh is what I seek. The beauty there, a more striking creature one shall not find. Who is that lady?”
“I am not certain from this angle, Lord Kolson, but she seems quite a bloom.”
“One to be plucked.” What a complete arse!
“Callum,” she gushed frantically, “he is admiring a lady in the hall of great beauty he seeks to bed. Whom is he gazing upon? I shall approach her for when he appears.”
Grind. Callum’s jaw clenched then he murmured, “He is staring directly upon you, Nella.”
She gave a chuckle on her reply. “Nae, he could not possibly…”
“Oh, ’tis Lady Fawnella MacHearin, a guest of Lady Alaina’s. A rich widows’ dowry that one.”
She turned, finding the crowd parting as a flaxen-haired Northman strode her way as if confidence infused his tailbone.