Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Asharp knock rattled Edith’s door, and she bolted upright in bed.
It was the early hours of the morning, too early for anyone to be knocking so loudly.
Unless the castle is being invaded.
Edith went still, pulling up the blanket at the thought, the sleepy haze immediately clearing from her head.
Has the castle been invaded?
“Edith,” Violet’s voice called from the other side. “Open up.”
Goodness.
Edith sighed in relief. She sank back onto the bed, groaning in annoyance at the disruption.
She closed her eyes and turned, wanting to ignore the maid’s knocks.
Perhaps she is in danger.
Her heart lurched. She swung her legs out of bed, pulling a blanket around her shoulders as she hurried toward the door, barefoot on the cold stone floor.
Damn me.
She had only locked the door to keep herself from waking up to Aaron in her room again, but now she regretted it as her unsteady fingers fumbled with the unfamiliar lock.
A frown creased her face as soon as her eyes fell on Violet.
There is no danger.
She paused, taking in the smile on the girl’s face and the bundle of fabric in her arms.
“Mornin’!” Violet greeted her before she could say a word, squeezing past her into the chamber and heading straight for the wardrobe. “I need to get ye ready.”
Edith’s brows rose. “What?”
Her voice was stern enough to make Violet stop her rummaging. She spun around, bowing her head slightly.
“Forgive me manners,” she said, her tone a bit somber. “Ye have been summoned.”
Edith stared at her, confused. “Summoned by who?”
Violet’s expression shifted into something suspiciously close to excitement. “Yer husband-to-be.”
Edith blinked once. “The Laird?” she asked slowly.
Violet nodded, too eager to notice her hesitation. “Aye,” she said. “And before ye ask—nay, I daenae ken why. Only that a messenger came to me.”
Edith exhaled through her nose. “At this hour?”
“Aye.” Violet nodded. “He is waiting at the stables.”
That gave Edith pause.
Has he gone mad?
“The stables,” she repeated, as though saying it twice might make it make sense.
Violet was already moving past her. She hurried toward the bed, placing down the bundle of fabrics she had brought with her and a few items from the wardrobe.
“Hurry up, then. ’Tis freezing outside, and ye’ll catch yer death if ye go out like that.”
Edith looked down at herself. Though the blanket was still wrapped tightly around her shoulders, she hardly remembered what she had on underneath.
“I am already dressed,” she muttered.
Violet gave her a look. “Ye arenae,” she countered briskly. “Sit.”
She pulled a garment out from the bundle and spread it out on the bed. It was an emerald-green dress—it was probably one of Scarlett’s old dresses—the color rich even in the dim morning light.
Edith frowned, moving hesitantly as Violet turned her toward the chair in a gentle but surprisingly firm motion.
“I can dress meself,” she protested weakly.
If Aaron was truly waiting for her out in the cold stables, then she was better off conserving her energy for his arrogance instead.
Violet was quick. Within minutes, Edith was dressed in the emerald gown, the color complementing her skin perfectly.
Violet brushed her hair with her fingers, pulling it into a tight bun and leaving a few strands hanging around her face.
Then she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and neck, tugging at it gently.
“Alright,” she said, clearly satisfied with her work. “Let us hurry. I ken ye daenae want to keep the Laird out in the cold for longer.”
’Tis nae me business if he freezes.
Edith shook her head, but she was already walking toward the door.
The cold outside was more biting than she had expected. The harsh air hit her face, cutting through her lungs as they made their way to the stables. Her face twisted into a frown once she spotted Aaron, his back turned toward them as he waited outside the stables in the harsh morning breeze.
“Good mornin’, me Laird,” she greeted once she finally reached him, curtsying deeply.
Aaron turned around, his jaw set. “Ye’re late.”
A small mist floated in the air before him as he spoke, evidence of how long he had stood in the cold.
Perhaps I should have been quicker.
Edith straightened, retrieving her cloak from Violet before dismissing her with a smile.
Aaron turned, disappearing into the stables for a moment before returning with two perfectly groomed horses—his own and Sirius.
Edith tsked, shivering as she watched him run his fingers through the horse’s perfectly groomed mane. If only he cared for people as much as he did those horses.
She narrowed her eyes slightly as he handed her the reins of the beautiful white stallion.
He didnae even keep them waiting in the cold.
“Scarlett’s horse,” she said aloud.
Aaron nodded, preparing his horse.
Edith already knew Sirius well. She had ridden on her back before, though it had only been for a brief moment, when she had been with Scarlett.
“Pray tell, me Laird.” She turned to face Aaron, making sure to hold tightly onto the reins. “Where are we going so early in the mornin’?”
Aaron cast a look at her. He had clearly caught the sarcasm in her voice, though he did not comment on it.
“The market,” he replied simply. “We shall go to the seamstress to buy ye a dress for the upcoming binding.”
Binding?
Edith’s brows rose.
“But there willnae be a binding,” she protested. “’Tis nae part of our—”
Aaron closed the distance between them, holding a hand over her mouth.
“Careful now, lass,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned closer to her ear. “Ye daenae want any loitering servant to hear yer blabbering.”
Edith’s anger flared at his arrogance, and she glared at him for a moment before nodding.
“It is expected that ye get a dress for the binding, so ye will,” he continued. “’Tis another matter if ye wear it for another occasion. Like the harvest festival.”
Edith swallowed. It made sense that people saw them getting a dress for the binding ceremony. It made their arrangement look real.
She moved slightly backwards, but before she could escape, Aaron reached out, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her onto the horse.
She stilled, her entire body stiffening under his touch.
“Steady yerself,” he said quietly, his hands lingering on her waist as though it were nothing. “Ye are making Sirius nervous.”
Edith blinked, her face reddening.
“I am still,” she protested, though her throat felt tight.
It was as though Sirius could feel the tension in her body. The horse started, raising her forelegs and nearly throwing her off the saddle.
Aaron was faster. He caught her, pulling her against him before she could hit the ground. She gasped against his chest, her heart pounding so violently that she was almost certain he could feel it.
His body was rock hard, a mountain of muscles, holding her tightly to keep her from falling.
She did not dare to look up at him. She stood frozen, her freckles standing out sharply against the furious red spreading across her cheeks.
Damn me.
Her hands instinctively held on to him, unsure what to do.
“Perhaps we should go another day,” he said coolly, and her head snapped up.
“Nay.” She avoided his eyes as though they would turn her into stone, tearing herself from his grip. “I’ll have me lesson with Martin tonight,” she breathed, reaching for the reins again. “We go today.”
She placed her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up onto the horse in one strained, albeit successful move.
“Stubborn,” Aaron muttered.
She nodded, not bothering to protest it. “Aye. Ye ken that already.”
The market was already bustling by the time they arrived.
Voices echoed through the street as merchants called out to passing customers, their words overlapping into a familiar hum. The scent of fresh bread drifted in the cold air alongside smoke from roasting meat. Carts rattled over the uneven road, their iron wheels making a different noise.
Aaron rode beside Edith in silence. His horse moved steadily through the crowded street, though his attention was fixed somewhere else entirely.
Edith.
He caught every glance in her wake. Every glance of surprise, curiosity, and even admiration that spread quickly as the villagers and merchants realized who she was.
Word had already reached the market.
Of course it has.
Aaron kept his expression unreadable as another pair of merchants bowed their heads while he passed.
Beside him, Edith sat stiffly atop Sirius. She held the reins properly enough, though he could still see traces of tension lingering in her posture after what had happened at the stables earlier. Still, she had not complained once during the ride.
Willful lass.
The thought came with the faintest trace of amusement, and he bit back the smile tugging at his lips.
They stopped in front of the seamstress’s shop, and Aaron dismounted first, his feet landing heavily on the dirt. Then he helped Edith down from her horse, steadying her without a word.
The seamstress greeted them the moment they entered the shop, her eyes widening almost immediately in recognition.
“Me Laird,” she greeted, dipping into a respectful curtsy. “How may I help ye?” Her eyes flicked toward Edith, sharp with poorly hidden curiosity.
Aaron did not hesitate. “A gown,” he said evenly. “For me betrothed.”
The seamstress blinked once, before her entire face brightened with interest. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Of course.”
She circled Edith slowly, studying her with a sharp eye without touching at first.
“A fine figure,” she murmured thoughtfully.
Aaron folded his arms, watching in silence.
Edith stood still, her face perfectly composed as the seamstress examined her. He could see the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands curled slightly at her sides.
She did not belong in places like this. Not amongst silks and fittings and the quiet scrutiny of women who spent their days discussing embroidery. And yet she held herself with surprising steadiness.
The seamstress brought out several folded fabrics, speaking quickly as she held up different colors to Edith’s cheeks.
“Clan colors,” Aaron interjected. “Nothing excessive.”
The seamstress nodded. “Aye, me Laird.” Then she stepped closer to Edith and began taking her measurements with a ruler.
Aaron’s gaze lingered on Edith as she worked.
For appearances’ sake, he reminded himself. An engaged man is expected to watch his future wife with interest.
And yet, standing there, watching Edith beneath the soft light in the shop, he found himself thinking things far less practical and far more dangerous. Like the way her lips parted slightly when the seamstress adjusted the ruler beneath her arms.
Hell.
He straightened slightly, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“If ye have everything ye need,” he said abruptly, turning toward the seamstress, “we shall be on our way.”
The seamstress blinked, clearly startled.
“I’m already done, me Laird,” she said quickly, removing the ruler from Edith’s bosom.
“Good. I shall send someone to pick up the gown a week from now.”