He nodded. “Challenges.”
“I willnotbe wearing a kilt.”
His eyes piqued with interest. “I can see your ideas are more interesting than mine, Miss Hughes.”
“And what, exactly, did you have in mind?”
“I dare ye tae dispatch your use of the formal Mr. McKenzie.”
Arabella’s mouth went dry.
“Andcall me Gavin.”
She felt the intensity of his gaze all the way down to the pit of her belly. “That is what you want? For me to call you by your first name?”
“Aye. That is what I want.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying for composure. “So long as it is understood that I am by no means giving you leave to call me anything but Miss Hughes.”
He sat forward, eyes twinkling. “Ach, I never intended tae wait for your permission, Arabella. I’m far too impatient a man for that.”
TWO DAYS LATER, Arabella found Molly rifling through her dresses. “I’d like to choose my own dress for this evening,” she informed her.
Molly stared at her. “But your mother instructed me to—”
“I know,” Arabella said simply. “And I’m changing those instructions. From now on, I’ll be choosing which dresses I wear and when. And tonight, I’d like to wear the rose-colored silk velvet.”
“But I—”
“Please, Molly.”
Molly sighed. “Very well. Though I do hope your mother doesn’t find out. You know she has opinions.”
“Yes,” agreed Arabella, “I know.”
After Molly helped her dress, Arabella insisted they try something different with her hair—gathering it more loosely around her face, leaving curls cascading over one shoulder.
Arabella cut off Molly’s protest. “And yes, I know it isn’t what Mother instructed. But Mother isn’t here.”
Arabella could practically hear the litany of complaints in Molly’s head and was grateful that, for once, the girl had the sense not to speak them out loud.
Once Molly had finished, she examined Arabella from every angle, face pinched. “If you hoped to look different, you’ve certainly succeeded.”
Arabella looked at herself in the mirror.
Shedidlook different.
And she felt different.
She couldn’t help but remember the small thrill that had coursed through her the other night when Mr. McKenzie—Gavin, she reminded herself—had used her given name.
I never intended tae wait for your permission, Arabella.
And though she’d laughed in the moment, her heart had constricted a little.
She’d heard her parents say her name hundreds of times. When they said it, it was always infused with a reprimand, as if her name itself was a scold. But when Gavin had said her name, his Scottish brogue skirting over it,Arabellaalmost sounded like a different word.
Wild.
