Gabriella’s hearthammered in her chest. Even if she still had the few coins she’d managed to save from her work at the tavern, it would not cover even a single garment from this shop.
“Me Laird,I cannae. It’s too much,” she began.
“Be a good lass, now.”Hector’s tone brooked no argument, though his eyes were not as hard. “This isnae up for debate.”
Mistress Ross circledGabriella like a hawk eyeing its prey. “Such a lovely figure, once ye fill out a bit. Those cheekbones! And that hair, perfect for shades of green or blue to bring out yer eyes.”
Gabriella felther face heating as the woman continued her assessment. The idea of owning multiple dresses seemed foreign, even impossible. She’d never owned more than two at a time in her entire life.
“Arms up, dearie,”Mistress Ross instructed, producing a measuring tape from her pocket. “Let’s get yer measurements.”
As the seamstress worked,calling out numbers to her apprentice, who scribbled furiously in a ledger, Gabriella stole glances at Hector. He stood by the window, seemingly absorbed in watching the village square outside, but she caught him looking back more than once.
Why are ye doin’this, Hector? What do ye expect in return?
Gabriella knew enoughto understand that men didn’t simply give gifts without wanting something in return. Even kind, old Fergus had expected honest labor for her stay at the tavern.
“And the first dresses—ye’llwant them immediately, Me Laird?” Mistress Ross asked, measuring the circumference of Gabriella’s wrist.
“Aye,”Hector replied. “Whatever ye have that can be adjusted to fit today. The rest can follow.”
Gabriella’s stomachtwisted with anxiety. “Laird McCulloch, this is too much. I dinnae need?—”
His eyes locked onto hers,silencing her protests. “Ye do need, and ye will accept.”
“What colors would ye prefer, miss?”Mistress Ross asked, gesturing toward the rainbow of fabrics lining her shelves. “I think a deep forest green would suit yer coloring beautifully. Or perhaps a rich burgundy for evenings? And for summer, a pale yellow would be lovely.”
The choices overwhelmed Gabriella.Colors? Preferences? She’d never been asked such things before. Her tavern dresses had been brown or gray, chosen for their ability to hide stains and wear, not for beauty.
“I… I dinnae ken,”she whispered, her voice faltering.
The seamstress waited expectantly.The apprentice held her quill above the ledger. And Hector… Hector watched her with those intense eyes that seemed to see straight to her soul.
Gabriella looked at him,a question in her gaze that had nothing to do with fabric choices.
What did acceptinghis generosity truly mean? What would he demand in return?
And why,despite her fears, did some small part of her yearn to discover the answer?
14
“Surely ye have somethin’ ye like?” Mistress Ross pressed gently, her measuring tape draped around her neck as she studied Gabriella’s face. “A color that catches yer eye? A fabric that feels pleasant against yer skin?”
Gabriella fidgeted with her fingers,her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I dinnae want to be any trouble.”
“Trouble?”The seamstress laughed, a warm sound that filled the small shop. “Lass, ye’re the most interestin’ project I’ve had in months. Most ladies who come through that door already ken exactly what they want down to the last ribbon and button.” She gestured toward bolts of fabric lining the walls. “But ye… ye’re like a blank canvas waitin’ for the right artist’s touch.”
Hector watchedfrom his position near the window, noting how Gabriella’s gaze flickered nervously toward the colorful fabrics before dropping back to her hands.
“What about this?”Mistress Ross pulled down a bolt of deep red silk, holding it to Gabriella’s face. “It contrasts nicely with the deep blue in yer eyes.”
For just a moment,something sparked in Gabriella’s expression—a flash of longing quickly suppressed. “It’s… it’s very fine,” she said carefully.
“Aye, it is,”the seamstress agreed, then leaned closer with a conspiratorial wink. “And His Lairdship here has made it clear that the cost is nay concern. So, tell me truly, what would make ye feel beautiful?”
“A sapphire blue,”Hector found himself saying when Gabriella hesitated for too long. “To match her eyes when the light catches them.”
Gabriella’s gazeflew to his, surprise evident in those very eyes. Eyes he had apparently been noticing far more than he’d realized.
