Page 17 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Nervously, she fastened the hooks on her robe.

The dress looked good. Lissie rustled the cascading French silks around her ankles and admired herself in the glass. The sheer blue style set off her eyes to good effect and had been shipped directly from Burgundy that very week.

In ordinary circumstances, Lissie would be elevated and eager to show off her new fortune. But, with Annice so nearby, she could not relax one bit. Finally, after a long pause, her cousin sighed.

"Forsooth, Elisabeth, you are passable!"

Annice's dark eyes shone as she probed her further, jabbing with a pointy finger into her midriff. Lissie, who could never stand to be poked, bristled in stony silence.

"Thank ye," she said meekly, although deep inside, her heart was bubbling. It was all she could do not to shove Annice out of the way. But somehow, she managed to button it down.

She had learned nothing if not the art of patience these last few weeks.

"Indeed, it is the truth," insisted Annice, perhaps realizing that she had sounded less than encouraging the first time around. "No one would think only weeks ago you were a little ragged teuchter1 from the savage Highlands!"

Lissie winced some more. Unsurely, she brought her eyes to Annice. She could not always fathom her intent. But her cousin's expression seemed earnest.

"Well, wee I may be, but I am nae peasant," Lissie pouted. Indignation rose in her. Annice really was the most insufferable snob!

Her constant put-downs were one thing, but being called a peasant was a step too far. Lissie was just about to tell her so when Annice's demeanor changed again.

Now she was sympathetic.

"Hoo there. Elisabeth, I do know that you seek to make the most impressive match…"

Annice hesitated. She sensed a "but" coming. Annice's face contorted, confused. She was struggling.

Finally, it came.

"There is no problem with your looks. You are perfectly acceptable," she began, damning Lissie again with faint praise. "It's your mouth," she said.

Lissie looked, completely stunned. "My mouth?" she repeated faintly. "What's wrong with my mouth?"

She stared into the mirror, tracing the outline of her lips. Annice laughed.

"Not your actual mouth, but the words that come out of it."

Lissie was so shocked, she could not talk. Finally, she got the words together to speak.

"Pray tell, which of my words have offended you?"

She spoke cautiously and scrupled to use the correct parlance for her cousin. Although her tone held, inside, she was raging.

Lissie's eyes met Annice's, and for the first time, held her there. She did not waver. Perhaps she had suitably made her point, for Annice retracted her imperious gaze and appeared to be cowed.

"Sweeting," she said, taking a different tone. Annice hesitated and smiled. Even now, Lissie could not help but admire how effortlessly polished she was.

For a woman in her mid-forties, she held together well. Her skin was toned and smooth. She had scant lines and no pockmarks. Annice's teeth were still completely intact, and her hair was yet to show any signs of gray.

Her cheeks were rounded, and her eyes retained their youth. Annice looked good for her age and was not afraid to show it. Lissie could not help feel drab in her wake.

But now, something terrifying was happening. Annice was being nice. Unbidden, she brought her arm to Lissie and placed it on her shoulder.

"Dear heart, what I am about to say is not intended as a barb."

Mentally, Lissie battened down the hatches. A deluge was coming. Annice smiled pityingly.

"But I do think you need to lower your sights a little for this ball." She eyed her warily. "It is not your fault, Lissie, but the English nobles will never accept a Scottish lass, no matter how comely she is. Tickling that they simply cannot understand a word you say."