“Because I ken that ye miss yer home, so I thought I would show ye mine,” he said.
A bright smile came across her face. For a moment it stilled his heart.
They rode in easy silence, the rhythm of hooves steady beneath them as the land stretched wide and green. When they reached the loch, James dismounted first, offering a hand without thinking. Eloise accepted it, her fingers brushing his as she stepped down.
The touch lingered a fraction too long before she pulled away. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her gaze sweeping across the still water.
“Aye, the bonniest thing,” James said, though he was no longer looking at the loch.
They walked along the edge, the quiet between them no longer tense but thoughtful. The wind stirred her hair, lifting strands across her face, and without thinking, James reached out and brushed them aside. His fingers grazed her cheek, warm and fleeting.
Eloise stilled slightly but did not step away.
He withdrew his hand slowly.This is fleeting.Remember it.
“How fares yer cousin’s visit?” he asked, forcing his tone back to neutral.
Eloise brightened instantly. “Oh, it is wonderful,” she said. “I hadnae realized how much I missed her until she arrived.”
He watched her as she spoke, the way her eyes lit, the way her smile came easily. It struck him harder than it should have.
“She brings ye joy,” he said.
Eloise nodded. “Aye, she does.”
“She has many questions, though,” Eloise continued, her expression turning slightly amused. “About the bindin’ ceremony, about the wedding… she finds it strange I’ve nay gown yet.”
James huffed faintly. “She is right,” he said.
Eloise glanced at him. “She is?” He nodded once. “If we are to make this convincin’, then we must see it through in all things,” he said. “That includes proper weddin’ clothes. Let us to the seamstress.”
Eloise studied him for a moment. “Ye mean to take me to a seamstress?” she asked.
“Aye, now,” he said.
“Now?” She blinked, then laughed softly. “Very well, me Laird,” she said. “Lead the way.”
They returned to their horses and rode into a different village, closer to the castle.
The seamstress’s cottage sat at the edge, small but bustling with quiet purpose. Inside, bolts of fabric lined the walls, rich wools, soft linens, and finer silks carefully folded.
The seamstress herself, a sharp-eyed woman with nimble hands, looked up as they entered.
“Me Laird,” she said with a quick curtsy.
Her gaze shifted to Eloise, interest sparking at once. “And this must be the new Lady.”
“Aye,” James said. “She requires wedding clothes. Quickly.”
The woman smiled knowingly. “Of course she does,” she said, already circling Eloise. “Stand still, lass.”
Eloise laughed nervously. “I feel like a prized hen at market,” she muttered.
James smirked faintly. “Ye daenae look like one,” he said under his breath.
“Arms up,” the seamstress instructed, measuring tape already in hand.
Eloise complied, though she cast James a look. “If ye laugh, I shall make ye regret it,” she warned softly.
