"It willnae be a long journey," he said, his voice sounding tight and a little hoarse. He wasn't looking at her now, and had his hands clenched tight into fists. "We'll be there soon."
"Oh. Good." Paisley managed lamely.
Keep MacLennan was not what Paisley had expected. There was a sort of attitude back home about Scottish lairds, that they lived a primitive life in stone and wood huts, cooking food over open fires. She'd known, in a vague sort of way, that couldn't be true, but the reality was something else.
The Keep was huge, bigger than the finest stately homes Paisley had visited, all rugged stone and smooth, polished marble flags on the floor. The ceilings were cavernous, set in rooms older than anything else Paisley had ever known.
Colorful and probably priceless tapestries hung on the wall, along with large, exquisite paintings. The main room – the Great Hall, Dominic had said – was vast, at least twice as large as their ballroom back home. It was warmed by a huge stone hearth in which a gigantic fire blazed, and wooden tables lined the walls, full of food and drink.
There were rushes on the floor, which was a very old-fashioned thing to do, and not something Paisley had ever encountered before. But the rushes – interspersed with dried wildflowers and bunches of herbs – were soft under her feet and let off a delicious savory-sweet scent of greenery and herbs.
"Well?" Dominic said, his voice low in her ear. "What do ye think?"
"It's beautiful." she breathed. "You livehere?"
"Aye, I do. Well, not at the moment, actually, but it is mine."
"Whywouldn'tyou want to live in a place like this?" Paisley breathed.
Dominic paused, glancing around, following her gaze.
"That's not a bad point." he murmured. "Not bad at all."
They enjoyed a full five minutes to take in the breathtaking place, then other people noticed they were there.
There was an immediate flurry of excitement. Some people headed straight towards them, and others contented themselves with hanging back, craning their necks to see.
Paisley at once noticed that nobody else was wearing a gown like hers. Some of the finer ladies wore dresses of silk and satin, but nowhere near as elaborate as hers. Most of them wore wool dresses, pretty but plain.
And yet the gazes directed her way weren't jealous or angry. The other women were smiling at her, whispering amongthemselves, admiring her dress. When Paisley smiled nervously at them, they smiled back.
"Laird MacLennan!" boomed a man in his fifties, entirely bald and hugely fat, waddling across the room towards them. "What a pleasure to see ye. We thought ye would not turn up. And who is this fine beauty?"
"My name is Paisley." Paisley spoke up, before Dominic could say a thing. She was tired of letting other people speak for her, tired of being introduced by others. "Paisley Burton."
"Lady Paisley is me betrothed." Dominic said shortly, staring at the man as if daring him to argue.
She extended a hand, careful to angle it so that he would have to shake it, instead of bestowing a flourishing kiss on her knuckles.
The man gave her a small, approving smile, and shook her hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet ye. Me name is James, the chief councilor here at Keep MacLennan. It's been a fair while since we had an English woman here, but ye are very welcome."
Paisley smiled back, beginning to feel relieved. She'd expected dirty looks, glares, and snubbing. It wasn't like English Society here. Not at all.
There was a tiny cough beside her, and Paisley looked around to see a young girl of no more than ten beside her, wearinga tartan skirt with a linen shirt on top. She was twisting her fingers together nervously and glanced back at an older woman – possibly her older sister – behind her.
The older woman smiled and nodded encouragingly at her sister.
"I like yer dress very well, me lady." the little girl said nervously. "Me name is Dora, and that is the prettiest dress I have ever seen. We only wear wool gowns, as it is usually too cold for anything else."
The older sister whispered something in Gaelic at the girl – Dora – and she blushed.
Paisley smiled down at her. "Thank you very much. This is my favorite dress, but I'm afraid it isn't very practical. It's white, so it would stain very badly, and there's always the danger that the hem could drag in the mud. Your dress is very pretty. I love the tartan, and it looks so comfortable!"
Dora beamed. "Itiscomfortable. And look, ye can lift up the skirts a wee bit if ye are going walking!"
To her older sister's horror, Dora hoicked up her skirt to knee-length, revealing hanging buckles that could be fastened to a leather belt around her waist, lifting up the skirt altogether.
