“Ye’re tryin’ to return her?” Ewan asked.
“I’m only tryin’ to do what’s best for her,” Darragh argued, though Mrs. Rowan’s words echoed in his head. “I cannae make a decision without kennin’ everythin’ I can. But I’m nae tryin’ to pawn her off onto someone else. She’s welcome at Fraser Keep.”
“And she’ll be welcome until the gatherin’?”
“Of course,” Darragh replied firmly. “She cannae leave yet. Nae until I ken who her family is and where she would be goin’ back to. I need to see her safe.”
“Ach, I see,” Ewan said, still seeming to buzz with the nervous energy of his ride here. “And when ye do?”
Just as Darragh was formulating an answer, a woman slipped past them, bowing politely to Darragh. Then, she opened the shop door, going inside to see the seamstress. He grunted, looking back at his man-at-arms.
“We will keep an eye on the riders,” Darragh said to Ewan, not dismissing his concerns. “But at the moment, we must think of Amelia as well. And perhaps invitin’ them to the spring hunt would allow us to figure out what their motivations are.”
When Ewan nodded his assent, Darragh stepped back toward the shop. Leaving Amelia alone when they were in public for any amount of time made him anxious.
His hand on the door, Ewan cleared his throat. “I ken ye came with Amelia in a carriage. Is that how ye’re sendin’ her home?”
“Nay,” Darragh said, his fingers tightening on the brass. When he spoke again, his voice was firm. “She’ll ride with me. I’m nae takin’ any chances.”
* * *
“I ken this isnae made to yer exact measurements,” Abigail was saying as she helped Amelia into a deep green gown, “but it willnae drag along the ground when ye walk.”
“That would be an improvement,” Amelia said quietly, the action of being dressed in something that didn’t hang from her feeling foreign, though it hadn’t been all that long since this had happened before.
She still remembered her last visit to the seamstress. Her father had complimented the colors she’d picked, his voice deceptively appreciative. Even looking back on it, she couldn’t have predicted that he’d sell her to the Hunt. He’d pretended to be so loving, so warm, in front of the seamstress.
I was naive, thinkin’ that kindness could mean care and protection. It’s only a matter of time before they’ll betray me. I couldnae even trust me own father.
“There we are,” Abigail said, fussing with the fabric at Amelia’s waist and making it lie just so. “Ye look even more bonnie in somethin’ that fits ye. I will be right back. I may have some shoes that fit ye better than the ones ye’re wearin’ as well.”
Amelia nodded, then stepped in front of the mirror. She didn’t look directly at herself at first, instead choosing to track the movements of Darragh and the man outside. He was someoneshe vaguely recognized. She could only assume that he was Darragh’s second in command.
While she was curious about what they were talking about, what had been so urgent that the man had come to find Darragh while they were in the village, those thoughts disappeared almost as soon as she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Unlike the borrowed gown she’d been wearing when she arrived, this one didn’t have a single stain from a previous owner. It hugged her waist, showing off the curves she was sure were gone. The neckline hid the worst of her bruising, making it look as though she’d been carrying on a normal life.
“Oh,” she whispered, turning slightly to get a full view of herself. “This is…”
Just a few days ago, Amelia would have balked at the idea of ever seeing herself like this again. Abigail had taken the liberty of putting a new ribbon on the end of her braid, a luxury that was laughable when she was rationing out water. The sleeves of the gown even reached far enough to cover the angry marks from iron cuffs.
The door opened then, making her jump. When she turned, another woman had stepped inside, nodding politely at Amelia before walking to the counter to await Abigail. As the door closed, Amelia caught the now-familiar voice of Darragh, but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.
“Ach, it’s nice to see ye, dear!” Abigail said, emerging from the back room carrying an armful of shoes. “I’ll be with ye in just a moment.” She stopped in front of Amelia, kneeling to place the items near her feet. “I’m a wee bit busy today. I pray ye forgive me.”
“Nay need to worry,” Amelia assured, turning back to her reflection and taking half a step closer. “I can only assume we dinnae have an appointment.”
“The Laird kens that I daenae mind fittin’ him and anyone he brings into me schedule,” the seamstress replied as she rose to full height again, a playful twinkle in her eye. “This shouldnae take too long.”
As she stepped away, Amelia watched Darragh and his man-at-arms through the mirror. The other man seemed tense and perhaps a bit frustrated with Darragh. As Darragh spoke, his words unheard by her, she could tell that he was decisive in whatever decisions he was making.
He’s a leader who’s sure of himself. I suppose it’s admirable, especially with the way the people on his lands react to him.
“I daenae have time to try these on,” the woman told Abigail, “but I trust they’re perfect after the last alteration.”
“If they arenae, ye come right to me,” Abigail said, her kind voice reminding Amelia of the seamstress she grew up working with. “Give me well-wishes to yer boys.”
“I will,” the woman replied, gathering her purchases,
