Chapter 21
THE DAY OF THE CèILIDH
“Nobody can settle down in the kitchens; there’s so much to be done,” Flora laughed, nimbly braiding Alaina’s hair into a deft twist. “The steward is goin’ mad. He loses his mind if he sees anybody even sittin’ down. Even I was given tasks.”
Sophie clicked her tongue. “That’s nae fair, Flora, ye are pregnant! Ye should be restin’.”
“I find that I daenae want to rest,” Flora confessed. “Aye, I daenae want to trudge up and down endless flights of stairs, but nor do I want to while away me days with me feet propped up, sippin’ mint tea.”
“I daenae ken,” Megan remarked, sifting through the basket of flowers Flora had brought, shortening the stems and snipping off leaves. “Feet up and mint tea sounds good to me.”
They chuckled at that. Flora caught Megan’s eye in the mirror and shook her head affectionately.
“Maybe it’s just me, but bein’ with child has made me restless. When ye are pregnant, Lady Megan, ye must tell me how it makes ye feel, and we can compare notes.”
Megan’s smile faded a little at that. Flora’s careless reference to Megan’s expected marriage and pregnancy reminded her of the obvious—that in the eyes of everybody, she was Ryder’s betrothed and would soon be his bride.
Alaina glanced over at Megan, her expression unreadable. Flora clucked her tongue and nudged Alaina’s head back into place.
“Is there another daisy in there, Lady Megan?” she asked, finishing one braid and moving onto the next.
“Aye, a couple. Here.”
Sophie had come up with the idea of braiding flowers into their hair, and Alaina jumped on it eagerly. She insisted on lots of daisies, and if Megan had had to make a guess, she’d have said that daisies just so happened to be Hamish’s favorite flowers.
The party wouldn’t start in earnest for an hour or two, but some guests were already arriving early. Not the important guests, of course. They would be fashionably late.
Megan and the girls couldn’t be late. It was rude of the hosts to be late.
Still, there was time. They were dressing in Alaina’s room, and there was a comfortable, chatty atmosphere.
It felt like family. It felt like home.
Flora hummed to herself, finishing the intricate braid in Alaina’s hair. “There. Done. What do ye think?”
Alaina stood up, shaking her dress out. As she looked at her reflection, her expression brightened, and she flipped her braided hair over her shoulder. The flowers, skillfully woven into her braids, drew attention as spots of color against the smooth sheen of her hair.
“Yer hair is just like mine, Alaina!” Sophie exclaimed. She was already dressed, her hair done in one simple braid—her own request—and dotted with colorful wildflowers.
“Thank ye, Flora,” Alaina murmured, smiling at the maid. “Where would we be without ye?”
“Ye would be without braided hair, I think,” Flora chuckled. “Now, Lady Megan, let’s get ye into yer gown, then I can do yer hair. I thought ye would be dressed already.”
Megan nibbled her lower lip, eyeing the gown tossed over the foot of Alaina’s bed. The dress was just as beautiful as when she’d first seen it, but Ryder’s words hung in her mind.
“Ye’ll nae be wearin’ that gown to the cèilidh… Every man there will be slaverin’ over yer and wantin’ to dance with ye.”
She shivered, remembering the way his gaze had raked hotly over her when he saw her in the gown. The feeling coupled itself with the memory of his touches, of his mouth on hers, his mouth on her inner thigh, of…
Swallowing hard, Megan pushed the thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time. She cleared her throat, quickly shedding the loose gown she wore and slipping into the cèilidh dress. Flora had altered the seams so skillfully that it wasn’t even obvious where she had made the changes.
“Lovely,” Flora said approvingly. She began to lace up the back, and Megan watched her silhouette tighten.
It wasn’t too tight to hinder her movement or breathing, but it accentuated her figure nicely, even highlighting the curve of her bosom.
She thought again about how Ryder’s hand had grazed her breasts, and she shivered.
Enough. Havenae ye just decided to put him out of yer mind? This preoccupation will do ye no good.
The words, however, were just that—words. They held no weight in Megan’s mind. The image of Ryder remained in her head, faintly laughing at her.
“I wonder if Uncle Logan will be there?” Sophie piped up. “If he is, ye must meet him, Megan.”
“Aye, Laird MacAdair will want to meet his nephew’s betrothed, sure enough,” Flora chuckled, finishing the lacing at last. “I warn ye, Lady Megan, he’s a firm, stoic sort of man. He’s nae much given to jokin’ around or anythin’ like that, so daenae try to charm him.”
“He doesnae like Ryder very much,” Alaina added.
There was a brief silence. Flora clicked her tongue and glanced disapprovingly over her shoulder at the girl.
“Come now, lass, that’s unkind,” she said quietly.
“Laird MacAdair and Laird MacCulloch are different people, sure enough, but they have the well-being of ye two lassies at heart. Besides, Laird MacAdair will be happy to see his nephew sensibly settlin’ down and marryin’.
Daenae let Alaina’s unkind opinion of her uncle color yers, Lady Megan. ”
“I… I willnae.”
Alaina flushed at Flora’s rebuke, but was not cowed.
“I am nae bein’ unkind. I am bein’ honest. Uncle Logan is strange.”
Flora pressed her lips together. “Well, yer braither thinks highly of him, even if they daenae see eye to eye. I hope ye willnae be undutiful at the cèilidh tonight. This party isnae only about having fun. This is politics, lassies.”
Megan sighed, smoothing the front of her bodice. “I hate politics.”
“Daenae we all,” Flora agreed. “Now, yer hair. Would ye like a more complex set of braids like Alaina’s, or something simpler, like Sophie’s?”
Megan considered, tilting her head. “Can ye do one long, thick braid?”
“With flowers?”
“Aye, flowers. If ye daenae think they’re too childish, that is.”
Flora laughed. “Flowers are never childish.”
She began to deftly wind Megan’s hair into a braid, a heavy rope of coiled hair hanging down her back. She dotted in flowers here and there, bright blooms of color that Megan kept seeing out of the corner of her eyes.
“This reminds me of when me sisters and I would get ready for cèilidhs and festivals,” Megan murmured, closing her eyes and relaxing into the smooth feeling of Flora’s hands in her hair.
“It was chaos. We always waited far too late to get ready, so we were always rushin’, dartin’ here and there, tryin’ to get ready, getting’ in each other’s way.
Once, one of me sisters stood on the hem of me gown, and it tore.
Ye can imagine the panic. I stood there, shoutin’ at her, while she shouted back, and another of me sisters sewed up the tear. ”
Flora chuckled, then paused. “But ye have three sisters. If one was shoutin’ and one was sewin’, what did the third do?”
Megan snorted. “She was laughin’, of course.”
“Yer sisters sound like fun,” Alaina commented. “Will we be meetin’ them at the cèilidh?”
Megan watched her smile fade from her reflection’s face.
“Nay, I think nae. I’ve nae had time to invite them.”
I didnae even tell them.
She had sent a cursory letter to Lily, explaining that Laird MacCulloch had a job for her to do, which he’d told her about after she won an archery contest. With any luck, Lily wouldn’t think too hard about why Megan had gone to an archery contest. Megan loved shooting arrows and competition. It all made sense.
She had asked Lily to inform the others and to reassure them that she was safe at MacCulloch Keep.
That was all. Talk of a betrothal, real or otherwise, would bring her sisters down on the Keep like a plague of locusts.
It would unsettle everything, and it might open the castle up to more dangers.
For example, the Keep would be full of her sisters’ hired men and women, any of whom might be a kidnapper sent to spirit Alaina away.
No, it was best to keep her sisters at arm’s length for now. Besides, they would make it all seem too real. If they learned that the betrothal was false, there was a good chance that the secret would leak out.
Or they might do something sensible, like convince their sister to leave.
“Ye must miss them a good deal,” Flora murmured, her voice low.
Megan swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Aye. I do.”
I wish I had somebody at me back. Somebody on me side. Somebody who understood.
There was a moment of silence, then Flora stepped back, running an approving eye over her work.
“There. Done. What do ye think, Lady Megan?”
Megan surveyed her reflection. The gown fell around her, smooth and sleek, fitting perfectly, the forest-green color setting off her hair. Flowers seemed to bloom from her hair, and since all three of them had flowers in their braids, they matched perfectly.
“It’s nae quite done yet,” Megan said. Flora frowned.
“What did I miss?”
Megan plucked a large, pink bloom from the basket and threaded it carefully into Flora’s knot of hair.
“That’s a start,” she remarked, grinning.
Sophie jumped on the idea at once, and even Alaina joined in, collecting flowers to put in Flora’s hair until a halo of multicolored flowers surrounded her bun.
Flora beamed, reddening.
“Ye lassies are sweet,” she chuckled, lifting a self-conscious hand to her hair. “But I cannae wear this. I’m just a maid.”
“So what? Ye are comin’ with us to the cèilidh, arenae ye?” Sophie insisted stoutly. “Tell her that she must come, Megan.”
“I agree with Sophie,” Megan answered firmly.
“Well, I will say this, then,” Flora continued, taking Megan’s hand. “Ye might nae have yer sisters here, but ye do have the three of us.”
“Aye, we’ll be as good as sisters to ye!” Sophie added eagerly. “And when ye marry Ryder, we will be sisters. So ye will have even more sisters!”
“How wonderful,” Alaina joked, but there was no bite in her voice. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Megan.