"I saw Alec at a gathering of the Highland clans a couple of months ago. Ewan advised me to keep an eye on him because he was not to be trusted."
"Your cousin is wise." Mairiana wished she had been much wiser, too.
"When I came here, I was gambling on the hope he hadn't noticed me. He tends to ignore people he sees as lower ranking or inferior."
Now that she thought about it, Alec did have a superior attitude, as if he thought himself above almost everyone else.
"We need to find you more clothes," Darack said.
Startled by his change in subject, she glanced down at her clothes. "What's wrong with my gown?" She smoothed her skirts, feeling the intricate flower and vine embroidery beneath her fingers.
"Look at it." He frowned down at it in the moonlight.
"'Tis one of my finest."
"Indeed and that's exactly what's wrong with it. You need to look like a peasant, not a queen. At least your cloak is plain black."
He thought she looked like a queen? She would've thanked him if he'd meant it as a compliment, but he hadn't. Her richly designed gown was a hindrance to her getting back home safely. Her brother had spent a pretty penny on her wedding trousseau, and she was grateful for it. But what must Darack think of such extravagant fabrics and designs? His own clothing was very basic, a faded plaid kilt, a dull linen shirt and a worn doublet. For this journey, her clothing needed to be along the same social lines as his.
"Well, I've been known to wear anarisaidat times," she said. "'Tis also what crofter women wear."
"Mayhap we can find one for you."
Find one? How would that happen? She knew her family had sheltered her the whole of her life, not allowing her to experience many hardships. Losing her parents had been extremely difficult, of course, but she had never wanted for food, clothing or safety.
They walked along the muddy road for another hour or more, the moon climbing higher in the midnight sky. Suddenly, she felt exhausted. Never had she traveled so far on foot in her life. Was it true what they said—that she was coddled? She refused to be. From now on, she would learn how to be strong and resourceful. Mayhap Darack could teach her. She glanced up at his handsome face. Aye, he appeared very resolute and determined. His jaw was firm, his dark eyes hard as he glanced at her.
Finally, they neared the outskirts of a small village and she sighed with relief, hoping they could rest for a bit. All was dark and no doubt all the residents were asleep.
"Let's go this way," he whispered, then guided her as they slipped around back of a row of tidy cottages.
"There." Darack pointed. One of the crofter's wives had forgotten to bring in her laundry. More precisely, a plaid hung on a clothesline made of thin rope.
"It might be a man's plaid," she whispered.
"Nay, look at the length. Much of the weave is white. 'Tis anarisaid."
"Very well, but I've never stolen anything in my life. I don't like that. And what if they see us take it?"
"They're likely asleep. You stay here and I'll slip over and get it."
"All right." She crouched behind a bush. "Have a care," she whispered, then watched as he crept forward, stealthy as a wildcat. He snatched the piece of clothing from the clothesline and hastened back toward her.
"Let's go." He shoved the plaid into her hands.
The strong scent of urine overwhelmed her. "Ugh." She flung the material back at him.
"What now?" he grumbled.
"Didn't you smell that?"
Lifting it, he sniffed. "'Tis not that strong. After working in a stable for days, I'm lucky to be able to smell anything."
"Well… I'm not wearing that." She cringed.
"You were in the manure wagon earlier."
"Aye, but the straw kept most of the dung off me. The reek of thisarisaidis far worse."
