“Either way, ye should have what ye need for now to keep ye inside the castle, until it is time for the wedding.”
“Why?” she asked angrily.
His piercing gaze held hers. “Because I said so.”
“That is not a reason. People are still ill, and there is work to be done. You will let me go to the village and do what I can,” she insisted.
“I daenae take orders from anyone, lass,” he sneered.
Her cheeks flushed. “Then let me be clear: I am not here to be locked away.”
“It is only until dusk, lass. Surely, ye can remain inside. It looks like it will rain anyway,” Kayden said, looking up to assess the sky.
“I do not mind the rain,” Lilliana said before she could even think twice about it.
Kayden did not respond. Just stared longer than was proper, his gaze roaming over her face with embarrassing intensity, no doubt catching her pulse fluttering at her neck. Then he walked away, leaving her and Rua alone in the courtyard.
Betsy sidled back from where she’d been hiding and tsked. “That is a very strange man your father has betrothed you to,” she said softly.
Lilliana shook her head. “I do not know about that. All men like to tell women what to do.”
Betsy giggled. “That is true. I suppose you could do worse for a husband. He is a very handsome, strapping gentleman if you ignore his rudeness.”
Lilliana snorted. “If you say so, Betsy.” Her cheeks heated even as she lied. “I do not see it myself.”
“I will take care of all the details, daenae fash, miss,” Moira said as she patted Lilliana’s shoulder consolingly, as if Lilliana would ever be concerned about such a thing.
In fact, she spent the day writing a strongly worded letter to her father, informing him that she did not appreciate his heavy-handedness. She let him know how betrayed she felt and tasked him with informing her sisters of her fate, since they were expecting her to return.
It was just as she signed her name with a furious flourish that Betsy barged into the room with an ear-splitting yell. “Miss Lilliana! Miss Lilliana! Oh my heavens—I shall faint just now!”
“What is it, Betsy?” Lilliana asked as she stood calmly, folding her hands gracefully in front of her.
“There is—We did not—What will you wear tonight?”
“I am sure it will be fine to just wear whatever I brought, Betsy. Would that not be fine?”
“Oh no—No! What a scandal!”
“Well, what do you propose? It is nearly dusk, and neither you nor I can sew a gown in a few hours.”
“Do not worry,” Betsy blurted quickly, almost too quickly, as if Lilliana was the one distraught by this news. “I will find you something suitable to wear. Just stay right here.” She picked Bramble up from the floor. “Here. Hold her. I will be right back.”
With that, she dropped the cat in Lilliana’s lap and hurried out of the room.
Lilliana looked down at the cat and sighed. “I suppose I should resign myself to this, eh?”
Bramble’s purr seemed to indicate absolute agreement.
They sat in peaceful silence for half an hour before a knock sounded at the door. Expecting Betsy and wondering why her lady’s maid was knocking, Lilliana was surprised to see a stranger open the door.
From the way she was dressed, Lilliana could only conclude that she was a servant. This was reinforced by the awkward curtsy the girl bobbed before presenting Lilliana with possibly the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen.
“From the Laird, miss,” the girl said proudly before laying it on the bed.
Lilliana could only stare at it wide-eyed. “The Laird sent this?” she asked.
“Aye,” the girl said with a nod.
