So, she waited, shifting from foot to foot impatiently, as he walked over. Then, begrudgingly, she allowed him to place her into the saddle.
“And just how far will we be riding?” she asked as he climbed in behind her, his chest pressing firmly against her back, radiating heat and strength that made her insides twist in a curious way.
“Nae too far,” he said, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. He urged the horse forward at a steady pace. “If we daenae ride, I’m sure we’ll be stopped.”
She furrowed her brow, unsure of what he could possibly mean. The question was answered almost instantly. A woman stopped pulling weeds from her garden, her gaze locking onto the two of them, a wide grin spreading across her face.
“Laird Fraser!” she exclaimed, stepping forward. “We werenae expectin’ ye here today. Nor were we expectin’ a guest. We would have arranged a meal.”
“We’re nae stayin’ for long, Isabella,” Darragh said, slowing the horse but not coming to a stop. “We’ve got a bit of business, then we’ll be on our way.”
“That’s a shame,” she said as they passed her by. “But I’m glad I got to see ye!”
Strange. She looked at Laird Fraser as if he could do no wrong.
Amelia wondered what kind of life the woman lived that she would trust a man like the Laird. It hadn’t been anything like that on her father’s land. The village itself must be relatively safe. That theory carried her all the way to seamstress. But, as they were getting off, a man standing just outside the inn across the street made a noise of disbelief.
“Laird Fraser,” he called, not moving, “ye should have sent word that ye were comin’. I would have been in me kitchen preparin’ somethin’ for ye.”
“Nay need, Hugh, but it is appreciated,” Darragh said as he tied the horse to a post. “Nay other reports of thieves, aye?”
“Nay. Ye were right,” the man said. “It was the kids livin’ in the cottage right outside the village. I’ve got the eldest comin’ to clean me kitchens twice a week. I’ve been sendin’ him home with enough to feed himself and the wee ones.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Darragh said, starting toward the seamstress’ door.
“Ach, if ye’re lookin’ for Abigail, she’s at the market buyin’ furs,” Hugh said. “She should be gettin’ back any minute now.”
“Well, I suppose that means we have some time,” he said, looking over at Amelia, breaking her out of the spell she’d fallen under. “There’s a few market stalls down this way.”
She nodded numbly. As they walked, she tried to wrap her mind around the kind of leader that he was. The way he’d behaved with her was indicative of a tyrant, yet the way the people of the village greeted him spoke of a respect that was earned through compassionate leadership.
“Ye see anythin’ ye like?” he asked as they approached a stall.
Amelia forced her eyes to focus on the goods displayed in front of her. There wasn’t much of note, most of it more appealing to children than adults, but her eyes caught on a collection of glassorbs. She reached out, running her fingertips over the smooth surfaces.
“I used to love marbles,” she admitted quietly.
Darragh didn’t respond, but he examined her as if she’d given him another piece of a puzzle. She looked away from him, her face flushed. When she caught sight of small lace kerchiefs at a nearby stall, she shuffled over to them and busied herself with looking at the intricate designs.
When she felt the heat from his body to her left, she forced herself to continue running her fingertips over the threads. His voice low, he said, “Come now, Abigail. And take that with ye, I’ve already paid for it.”
Slowly, she met his gaze. After a beat, she glanced toward the merchant, then back at the fabric in her hands. Not quite believing his kindness, she gave a short bob of her head and followed him away from the stall, the softness of the kerchief a strange anchor in the storm brewing in her mind.
* * *
“Ach, look at ye!” Abigail said, her measuring tape in hand as she looked at Amelia. “How’d ye ken I was goin’ to ask ye to step up there?”
“I…” Amelia started, clearing her throat and carefully avoiding Darragh’s gaze. “I thought that it would be the logical place for me to be.”
“Gettin’ measurements doesnae come intuitively to everyone,” the seamstress said, stepping forward. “Ye’re makin’ me job so much easier.”
Darragh sat on a bench against the wall, watching as the two women worked. He was sure now that Amelia had been raised in a castle. She seemed to anticipate each request the seamstress had before it was voiced. This was a woman who had had her measurements taken too many times before to be an orphan.
“I ken we’re supposed to get yer proper measurements,” Abigail said, her tape circling Amelia’s waist, “but I can tell ye’ve nae been eatin’ enough. Laird Fraser will see to it that ye’re fed properly, so I’m goin’ to leave ye just a wee bit of room.”
“We’ll return if she needs new gowns,” Darragh said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I would prefer that she’s comfortable.”
“Aye, and she will be,” the seamstress said, clicking her tongue at his attempts to control the fitting. “But she will gain a few centimeters quite quickly at first. Then it’ll taper off.” She met his eye over Amelia’s shoulder. “Ye’re nae an expert in the female body, Me Laird.”
