Chapter Eight
Ellie looked at herself in the mirror, wondering for the fifth time if she’d made the right choice in her dress to please her betrothed. She was not accustomed to feeling such nerves, but tonight was, as the maid put it, “the first night of the rest of yer forever!” And Ellie needed to keep Sinclair happy because before that forever started, she needed to speak with Sinclair.
She wasn’t sure about what exactly, but itwasthe very first chance she would have to see the Laird since their one brief conversation in her sitting room when she first arrived. For a man who was determined to marry her and for reasons known only to him, he certainly kept himself occupied with any matter of concerns that were not Ellie. She had tried to approach him for conversation several times, but each time he was too busy, otherwise occupied, or even absent from the castle. She knew, as Laird, he would be busier than most common men, but it was as if he avoided her on purpose.
“Well, he cannae avoid me at our official betrothal dinner. He’ll have tae speak with me,” she said out loud to the empty room.
Even though she did not want to marry the laird, she had no interest in embarrassing him in front of his clan or their guests. Shedidwant to make a good impression. She’d chosen a dress of purple that closely matched the heather on the hillsides. The color complemented her green eyes, making them stand out against her fair skin. It had a green sash dotted with pearls around the waist. A small scrap of wool in the colors of her home clan MacAskill wrapped around the center of the sash. Her hair was tied up in an elegant knot, with tiny pearls strewn through it. Ellie had not often cared for her appearance, at least not enough to put any type of bold effort into it. Since her father’s death, this night was the first time she’d not worn some sign of mourning. It felt strange—but also freeing. Ellie knew that her father, though he would know she missed him, would not want her to spend her life trapped by his memory.
And so it was with a small smile that she left the chamber and followed her lady’s maid down to the welcome feast. She had but one true chance to begin her life from this point. She did not want to be a pawn in her mother’s game with Sinclair, whatever that may be. The nerves jumping around in her stomach were not entirely negative. She was excited, too. She felt a slight touch of guilt, but Ellie had missed dancing. Perhaps she would be able to join in at least one dance if the night played out well.
“My lady,” Aidam said, giving her a slight bow. He had been waiting in the corridor to escort her down as her guard. Ellie’s cheeks warmed, and she knew she was blushing when she saw how attractive he looked. He left his long hair loose, and it fell in gentle cascades down his shoulders. It was not the typical blonde she always thought of. In the waning light of the evening and the beeswax candles lit throughout the corridor, she could see each distinct color of gold running through his neatly combed locks. The shadows even worked in his favor, highlighting the slight darkness that the sun had brought to his skin. His shirt was a brilliant white, the sash he wore over it and his trews the traditional blue and red of the Sinclair plaid.
When he smiled at her, Ellie tried to calm herself to give the appearance that her heart wasn’t beating fast as a horse race through her dress.
“Ye actually look fairly neat for once,” she said, hearing her maid giggling behind her.
Aidam smiled. Lord, his smile was distracting. “And ye look fair bonny, Lady Heloise. Me uncle isnae gonnae ken what tae do with his old bones if ye approach him looking like that.”
“Oh, stop that,” Ellie warned, but she couldn’t help but smile in return. He offered her his arm, and she took it without thinking as they strode the rest of the way to the great hall. Her fingers rested on his muscled arm; she looked down, and something took over in her thoughts. It felt right to be standing with him in such a way. She quickly pulled her arm from his and stepped away.
“It wouldnae be proper for ye tae enter the great hall unescorted, Ellie,” Aidam whispered, pulling her back and placing her arm proper. She looked at him, alarmed, but he simply kept his eyes forward, a smile on his face. She knew he was right, but why did his simple touch make her feel so unsettled. For a moment, there was nothing but their combined heartbeats.
The doors to the great hall opened onto one of the most glorious sights that Ellie had ever seen. She immediately forgot her momentary unease at being so familiar with Aidam as she took in the sights around her. The room was lavishly decorated in the colors of Sinclair, with hints of MacAskill shining through—a concession to how their houses would soon be joined.
Each table was full to bursting with guests, and each of them turned their heads to see her as she entered. Ellie tried to tell herself that she didn’t feel nervous—tried to tell herself that none of this was affecting her. She was the daughter of a Laird, after all. She was used to such events.
But as she walked between the tables toward where her future husband was already seated, she couldn’t help but catch their whispers.
“Is this the girl?”
“So young!”
“Such a shame about her father…”
Suddenly, Ellie found it difficult to breathe, the weight of both clans' expectations falling onto her shoulders with a claustrophobic thud. “I cannae dae this,” she whispered, unsure if she meant calling off the wedding or entering the hall at all.
“Of course ye can,” Aidam replied, placing his hand over hers and lightly squeezing. “Ye’re the strongest lass I ken. It’s naught but a small party.”
She grimaced, trying her best to listen. Aidam released her arm and headed to the other side of the room as was proper, gave her a sympathetic grimace. It helped, somehow.
She reached the head table and gave a formal curtsey. “My Laird,” she said, glad that her voice came out normally and not tinged with her nervousness. “Laird Sinclair, It’s good to see ye at last.”
Sinclair was dressed just as finely as Aidam, yet for Ellie, the outfit did not sit on him quite the same way as it did Aidam. She could tell the Laird was quite the specimen in his day, and she should feel lucky to have any of his attentions bestowed on her. Yet, she could not shake the feeling that something was not quite right about any of this situation they found themselves in. He smiled at her, and though she could see a genuine kindness in his eyes, it did nothing to dispel her nervousness, not like Aidam’s reassurances. Sinclair had brought her here with promises to protect her and take away her sadness. Surely the silence since she had arrived had just been a mistake—a coincidence of bad timing.
“Lady Heloise,” he said. “Sit, me dear.”
She did. Sinclair stood and introduced her formally to the room at large and made the official announcement of their engagement. Ellie weathered the applause and congratulations but found her eyes travel along the table to where Aidam sat a few seats away. He wasn’t smiling like most, but he wasn’t frowning either. The expression on his face was…indiscernible.
Ellie tried to make small talk while the food arrived, with no luck. She tired of waiting patiently for any organic opening to discuss their betrothal. However, she found getting the Laird’s attention while he was eating a significantly more complicated task than she had anticipated. No matter what she said, his responses were short to the point of curtness, though he cushioned the words with his usual terms of endearment. Every time she moved to take the conversation further, it seemed like another man—whether the one on his other side or someone who had come up to visit the table—suddenly demanded his attention.
“My Laird, I would like tae speak tae ye about the wedding,” she said with a lowered voice.
“Dinnae fash, lass, the wedding will be a grand affair,” He spread his arms wide, and Ellie got a good whiff of what she imagined was a fine Sinclair whisky.“The ladies of me clan will take of ye.”
“Aye, my laird, I am sure of it, but I would like to speak tae ye on a more pressing matter before we—”
“Och, look at that roasted beast,” he replied, cutting her off as a large tray of meat came their way. Ellie let out a sigh of exasperation. Why could Sinclair not spare three moments to speak with her?
