Eleanor smiled tremulously, then grew grave again as she went to the chest at the foot of the bed and opened the lid. She lifted out a gown of sumptuous scarlet silk damask, with a rounded neckline and wide gored skirt. In the moonlight, it seemed to move and shift like a living thing. Riona had never seen so beautiful a dress in all her life, let alone put one on.
“I think it should fit,” Eleanor said.
Riona thought it would, too, as she took off her simple woolen gown and reached out for the scarlet dress, taking hold of it reverently.
“When this is over, you’re welcome to it.”
Riona shook her head. “It’s too fine for me.”
“I insist,” Eleanor said with a spark of determination as she helped Riona pull it over her head and down into place over her shift.
“Oh dear,” Eleanor murmured.
“It fits well enough,” Riona said, although it was a little tight.
“You can see your shift. It shows above the neck. If Percival sees that, he might stop you, to remind you of what he said about not wearing a shift. He’ll find out it isn’t me.”
Riona didn’t hesitate. “So I’ll take off my shift,” she said as she removed the gown.
While she laid it on the bed, Eleanor wordlessly, and delicately, turned away. Riona divested herself of her shift and swiftly put on the gown again. She hadn’t noticed before howlow the neckline was. No wonder Percival thought this would do for a seduction. It was also a snug fit, and when Eleanor tied the laces, the back of the gown wouldn’t close completely. Riona could feel the air, cool on her skin.
“I don’t dare bend over,” she said. “I’ll tear the laces.”
“The veil should cover the gaps,” Eleanor said, going to another chest and bringing out a long, white piece of cloth and a circlet of gold. The circlet, too, was a thing of beauty, made of entwined strips of the metal that shone in the moonlight.
Eleanor put the fabric on Riona’s head, and then the circlet to hold it in place. “I think you might really be able to fool Percival,” she said as she stepped back to run her gaze over Riona. “Except for those shoes. You’ll have to wear a pair of my slippers.”
Eleanor fetched two soft calf slippers, finely worked, and went down on one knee. “Give me your foot. I’ll be your maidservant.”
Riona smiled at that, and to hide her own growing nervousness. When she’d proposed this plan, it had seemed simple enough, and she’d truly believed she could sneak into Nicholas’s room without being discovered.
But now, when it came to it, she wasn’t so sure. What if Nicholas woke up? What if he wasn’t yet in his bedchamber, and entered while she was hiding there? She could always hide underhisbed, she supposed, until he was asleep.
“There, you’re ready,” Eleanor said, rising and stepping back.
When she frowned, Riona wondered what else might be amiss.
“If you don’t want to go, Riona, I won’t hold it against you,” Eleanor said softly.
Riona gave her a comforting smile and imitated Uncle Fergus’s jovial manner as she went to the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. Besides, when else would I have a chance to wear a gown like this?”
Once she made sure the corridor was clear, Riona crept out of the chamber and prepared to play her part.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ASHIVER RAN DOWNRiona’s back as she quickly and quietly hurried past the door of Percival’s chamber. It was open enough to allow a shaft of candlelight to waver on the floor, telling her that Percival was there and waiting. Keeping as close to the far wall as possible, she was very glad that there was no torch in a sconce nearby to light her face.
Her hand trembled as she pushed down on the latch of Nicholas’s chamber door and slowly eased it open. Even more carefully, she slipped inside, then closed the door behind her.
A hand clamped over her mouth, an arm went around her like a band of iron, and she was dragged backward. Struggling, she collided with a body. A man’s body.
Sir Nicholas of Dunkeathe’s voice growled in her ear. “I won’t be seduced into choosing a bride, Joscelind, even by someone as beautiful as you.” He loosened his hold. “Now go back to your chamber,” he ordered, gently pushing her away.
Whatever happened, Riona couldn’t leave. Otherwise, Percival would know that his plan was a failure and Eleanor would be in jeopardy.
“I’m not Joscelind,” she said as she faced him.
As he stood in the moonlight coming in through his window, he stared at her as if she were an apparition, while she regarded him with steady determination.
