“Ye ken, whenever I visited MacKeith, I ran into Helena a few times. Mostly, he kept her locked away. But when I did seeher, she was a kind and beautiful woman. She didnae deserve the treatment she got. And Skye, she always had spirit, and it was evident she loved and protected her maither.” Magnus paused. “I have to ask then, does Skye agree with this proposal? Completely?”
Arran thought back to their meeting at the fourth-floor window. “Nae at first. And we talked and argued a bit. But she agreed eventually, so we’re gettin’ married first thing tomorrow.”
“Then it shall be done.” Magnus then looked at him gravely, a tinge of guilt in his eyes. “Arran, I’ve kenned ye all yer life. And I ken yer character—ye would never hurt a woman. But I’ll be watching out for young Skye, as I’ve always regretted nae helping her maither.”
Arran wanted to tell him that Helena lived, but that was a secret he wasn’t ready to share. It would be too dangerous while MacKeith was still alive.
The rest of the day was a whirlwind. Nellie whisked Skye upstairs and summoned two other servant girls. Her chamber was like a hive, busy and buzzing with women rushing about and discussions about how to style her hair, oils to scent her skin, and a schedule to have her ready in the morning.
Skye was dizzy, and she tried to keep the details straight in her mind.
“How did ye catch our Laird, me Lady?” Nellie joked. “Ye are a bonny lass, for sure, but there have been others who tried to snare him.”
Skye shrugged. She didn’t want to go into all the details, but she thought lying wasn’t a good option either. “I guess he is doing it to protect me. I’m in a bit of trouble with Laird MacKeith—I cannae go back there.”
Nellie nodded her head vigorously. “Nay, me Lady. Ye cannae even consider that. We’ve all heard how it was with yer lady mother. Some men are nae fit to walk upon God’s footstool. But is that the only reason he’s goin’ to marry ye?” Nellie asked, eyeing her shrewdly.
Skye looked down at her fingers, feeling her face grow hot. “There might be other reasons,” she said slowly. “At least I have one or two. But I’ve nay idea why he passed by all those other lovely lasses and settled on me.”
There was a bubble of feminine laughter, while Nellie looked at her as if she were daft. She turned to the young maids and said, “Lasses, I do think she’s blind.”
“What do ye mean?” Skye asked.
“Have ye seen the way he looks at ye, me Lady? Half the time he looks besotted with ye, and the other half he looks like he’s going to jump up and ravish ye in front of everyone!”
Skye’s face turned several shades of red. “Och, stop, Nellie!”
The maids were also blushing and giggling, but Nellie continued. “Tomorrow when he sees ye in yer gown, he willnae be able to keep his eyes off ye. Ye’re going to have him reeling, and then all he’ll think about is the ravishing, I tell ye!”
The room erupted in laughter again, but Skye was sure the woman was exaggerating.
“Nellie, I dinnae have a dress other than the one I wore when I arrived and this one that ye lent me. I like this one better, but perhaps I should press it before morning.”
Nellie gasped. “Ye willnae be wearing that day dress, me Lady. Arran had a word with me and we have a better plan.” With that, she bustled out of the room.
“Goodness, does she ever slow down?” Skye asked the young maids Nellie left with her.
“Nay, me Lady, she doesnae,” they both replied with smiles.
Nellie returned ten minutes later, carrying a creame white dress in her arms.
Skye couldn’t believe her eyes. “Oh, Nellie, where did ye get that dress?”
Nellie smiled and held the dress up, letting its full length fall to the floor.
The gown was crafted from the finest wool and was adorned with intricate lace at the scoop neckline. The lace overlaid the full-length sleeves and fell across the top of the bride’s hands. The bodice was adorned with delicate embroidery depicting thistles and heather.
Skye reached out to touch the fabric, marveling at the intricate details. She’d only seen work of this quality from her mother.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
Nellie nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Aye, it belonged to Arran’s maither. She wore it on her wedding day, and now Arran says if it fits, it’s to be yers.”
Skye gently took the dress from Nellie and held it against herself. She thought about the story of Arran’s parents’ love. A love that was sealed on the day his mother wore this dress. Her heart swelled.
“It’s perfect,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Such a privilege. Here, someone take it quick, before I start to cry.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. But Nellie was quick to shush them all.
