Page 14 of Kilted Seduction
“Well enough, but it wasnae the point I was after makin’, me laird.” Mac paused, and Aedan gestured for him to continue.“Tae truly make people believe yer ruse, ye need tae start upholding appearances. Rooms close tae yers, across the hall or right beside. A seat beside ye at the table. Speak tae her as if she’s yer bride… or at least yer lover. I can start rumors among the guards that she’s a village lass ye’ve been visiting when ye go out on patrols, and ‘tis why she sought ye out instead o’ informing a scout or a guard o’ her concerns. But ye’ll never convince anyone ye’re married, least o’ all Lachlan Ross, if ye dinnae dae at least that much.”
Aedan felt his heart sinking with every word. He’d intended - or rather, vaguely considered - that he and Thora would mostly ignore each other until it was time to depart. Aside from appropriate clothing, he’d entertained only the haziest of notions of how to play the part of being a man recently wedded to a lovely lass.
But now that hewasthinking about it, he knew Mac was right. There was no way any ruse of marriage would survive even the most casual of investigations if both he and Thora were unused to the parts they needed to play. And if Lachlan Ross suspected they were attempting to deceive him, there would be dire consequences - far worse than whatever Thora’s dreams might have led her to imagine.
He scowled at the fire beyond Mac’s shoulder and resisted the urge to drop his head onto the desk. It would only scatter his paperwork and give him a headache. “Make the necessary arrangements in regards tae her rooms and send a servant tae tell her she’ll be expected at dinner, so we can begin tae settle intae our roles.”
Mac rose with a speed that suggested his man-at-arms was well aware of the mood his words had provoked and was quite content to escape and leave his laird to brood. “Aye.”
Alone in his study, Aedan leaned back in his chair, then rose to collect a bottle of whisky and a glass. He rarely drank, but he felt the current situation called for it.
It seems matters keep getting more complicated with every passing candlemark. I just hope I can manage tae stay focused on what needs tae be done.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Within half a candlemark, Thora had come to several conclusions. First - Rhiannon McHavershan was a friendly, wonderful young woman with a heart of gold and an enthusiasm for tailoring that was second to none.
Second - Aedan Cameron wasdefinitelygetting his revenge for the way she’d cornered him into posing as her spouse by sending her to the seamstress.
The seamstress had pounced as soon as they entered her domain. “An’ who’s this, Master Sinclair?”
“Thora MacTavish. She’s travelin’ with Laird Cameron tae Laird Ross’s Yule celebration. She’ll be goin’ as Lady Cameron, and she needs the appropriate clothin’. Some o’ everything.”
With that, Mac had made his escape, leaving Thora in the clutches of the seamstress, who was staring after him with an open mouth. “Everything… and in such a short time…”
To her immense relief, Rhiannon seemed more preoccupied about the amount of work than the fact that the laird was to be married out of the blue.
A moment later, Thora found herself dragged into the middle of a whirlwind of measuring strings and fabrics. Rhiannon dragged her up onto a stool, chattering fast as a squirrel while she donned an apron covered in pockets, pins, fabric shears, and everything else that might be needed.
“Well, ye’re a lovely lass, that ye are… such pale skin and dark hair, and yer eyes… och, aye, yer eyes are lovely! And such a slim figure tae work with…och, just like a lady o’ the Fair Folk. ‘Twill be a pleasure tae make dresses fer ye… now just a moment tae tak’ yer measure…”
In short order, the measuring string was looped around her shoulders, bosom, waist, hips, arms, legs and draped across her back. Rather than writing down the information, Rhiannon labeled the measure with pins that had been decorated different colors. “I ken what each color is, ‘tis much simpler than tryin’ tae write things down and recall where I put the sheet later, and faster too.”
Measurements done, she began looking at different fabrics. “Yule… winter colors…ye’ll look bonny in them.”
She pulled several bundles of cloth down at once. “Greens I think… they’ll suit ye far better than reds… they can be used tae add trim or decoration, I think, nae as the main fabric fer anything except the underclothing…”
Before long, Thora felt almost overwhelmed by Rhiannon’s energy. It was all she could do to nod or shake her head as Rhiannon held up fabrics, made suggestions, and asked question after question about designs, decorations, embroidery, and texture preferences.
By the time Mac went to collect her for the evening meal, she was exhausted, and more than happy to leave the seamstress to her work.
She was less amused when Mac guided her to a new set of rooms, and pointed out a slightly oversized dress, simple but heavy with embroidery, and a sash in Cameron colors. “Laird Cameron thinks ‘tis best fer both o’ ye tae learn tae play yer parts afore ye journey tae Castle Ross. Until ye leave, ye’ll reside in these rooms, and ye’ll join the laird fer meals. We’ve decided tae spread a rumor that ye’re a lass he met while patrolling. It will also make the fact that you are accompanying the laird tae the Yule festivities more believable fer the council as well.”
She could see the logic, and Mac’s explanation of how and why she’d come to be at Cameron Castle made sense. It was definitely farfetched, but not unbelievable. And it was certainly more believable than a rumor she’d heard while walking through the halls - that she was a Faerie Princess come to take a mortal lover, either by order of or in defiance of the rulers of Underhill.
Still, she hadn’t considered starting their ruse so early. She hadn’t wanted to risk testing Laird Cameron’s patience any further than she already had. She wasn’t sure she was ready to begin playing the part of Lady Cameron.
Despite her reservations, she slipped into the adjoining bedroom and put on the dress and sash. Her brush had already been laid out on a bedside table for her, and she took a moment to rebraid her hair. Once she felt she was properly attired, she returned to where Mac was waiting. “’Twas the dress his idea or yers?”
“’Twas mine… even Rhiannon cannae finish so quickly.” Mac grinned at her. “It suits ye.”
“Thank ye, Master Sinclair.” She offered him a smile and curtsey, only for him to catch her arm.
“Nay one will think twice if ye thank me… Laird Cameron does often enough. But a lady doesnae lower her head tae a man-at-arms, and nay more should a lass who’s intended tae become a lady.”
Thora winced because she ought to have remembered that, as a laird’s sister, but fortunately Mac thought it was because she was simply a village lass acting in a manner unbefitting a lady. There was no reason Thora McTavish would know that and a village girl would be used to offering anyone from Cameron Castle the courtesy of a curtsey. Accidental or not, she’d acted precisely as she should.
For a moment, she wondered if her Gift was helping her after all. Perhaps it was guiding her, not with visions, but with the impulses required to properly enact the role she’d chosen for herself. Then she dismissed the thought, as Mac was waiting for her, and it was time for supper. After spending candlemarks under Rhiannon’s eye, she was in need of a good meal.
