“And what wouldyousay, Gilly?” Fia asked, taking the brocade gown to the mirror, and holding it against herself.
“Me?” Gillian straightened her shoulders and took a breath. “I would say that simple would be better—a plain gown, but of the best silk, worn with a Sinclair plaid and a fine brooch.”
To her surprise Fia nodded. “Aye—the queen gifted me with a pearl necklace. A plainer gown would set it off perfectly.”
Gillian helped her sister dress, and when Fia went up to show Dair her finery, Gillian went to her own cabin and chose a plain gown of dove gray, simply trimmed with a narrow edging of lace. It was well cut and expensive, and it fit her slim curves to perfection, but the dress blended with the color of the rocks and the sea. She brushed her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. Then she wrapped her MacLeod plaid over her head and added a modest brooch to hold it in place. She glanced in the mirror. She looked as she always did—a pale face with a tendency to blush when anyone spoke to her and luminous green eyes that seemed to give away every thought that went through her head. She bit her lip. Perhaps she could wait here in her cabin, ensure she was the last one off the ship, and remain unnoticed.
But there was a tap at the door. “Gilly?”
It was her father. “Here, Papa.”
“Come up on deck, lass. The launches are waiting to row us ashore.”
There was no disobeying the Fearsome MacLeod, no matter how softly he spoke a command.
She opened the door, and her father’s sharp eyes roamed over her. “Ye look . . .” He paused, his mouth tightening. “What happened to the gowns ye bought in Edinburgh? The blue and yellow one, or the green one with the lace and the red ribbons?”
Gillian felt her face heat. If she wore one of those, the dress would be the talk of the whole castle. No one would rememberher, however.
“I didn’t wish to steal the moment from Alasdair Og and Fia, Papa,” she said quietly. She wondered if he’d insist that she change her gown.
“Oh, aye. Of course,” he said, already turning away, hearing the sounds of arrival from the deck above, anxious to be there instead of here. “Just come when you’re ready, lass. I’d best go up now.”
She watched him walk away with a sigh of relief. She waited for the first few launches to depart and then went up on deck, quiet as a mouse, plain and unnoticed. Her father had already gone ashore with Fia and Dair, and she’d been quite forgotten.
The Sinclair clansman who helped her climb down into the launch regarded her with polite and minimal interest. As they rowed to shore, she looked at the castle on the cliff, at the folk who lined the edge of the high perch, and the men milling about on the beach below.
Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart kicked. Arrivals were full of excitement and possibility. Anything could happen, couldn’t it?
And one little adventure was all she wanted.
