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“Och, I’ll forgive ye entirely if ye go and tell everyone I’m nae feelin’ well.”
John shook his head. “I cannae let ye do that, M’Laird. Ye’ve brought this Clan and this Castle into high regard among the Lairds of Scotland, and I willnae allow ye to ruin yer reputation because ye’re afraid.”
“Oi!” Felix’s expression transformed into one of affront. “I’m nae afraid!”
John raised an eyebrow. “There’s nay shame in it, M’Laird. I ken why ye’re reluctant, but ye must do this. Ye must show courage, at least for a few hours. Then, ye can slip away and retire for the night.”
“A few hours?” Felix swallowed thickly.
John nodded.
“Just a few hours… I can manage a few hours.” Felix dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. “Och, I ought to lock me sisters in the dungeons for the night, to punish them for this.”
John chuckled. “I doubt Mr. Murray and Laird Millar would allow that.”
“They’re fortunate they’ve got such imposin’ husbands.” Felix liked Angus and Ryder well enough, but they were too different to ever share a brotherly bond. Sometimes, Felix envied the easy rapport between his sisters’ husbands, feeling a little left out, but the sensation always passed quickly.
John picked up the ceremonial great kilt that had been laid out by one of the maids, dyed in the mossy green and royal blue colors of Clan Moore. He draped it over his arm and went to stand by Felix, as if he were a gentleman’s manservant instead of a hardened Man-at-Arms.
“The lasses cannae stop talkin’ about ye, M’Laird,” he said, offering the garment. “I heard at least thirty of them chatterin’ about ye in the hallways, wantin’ to get a glimpse of ye. I dinnae realize ye had a different kind of reputation, M’Laird, but I hope it’ll stand ye in good stead for findin’ a bride among them.”
Felix groaned. “Nae ye, too! I’ve told me sisters and I’ll tell ye—I’m nae interested in findin’ a bride. Nae now, nae ever.”
“At least humor a few lasses tonight, even if ye’re nae interested in anythin’ more. Let it be seen that ye’re as formidable with the lasses as ye are in business, and this Clan will only continue to rise in respect.”
Felix took the great kilt, already pleated, and began to fix it into place. John was right—this was more about upholding his reputation as a Laird than anything else, and he would not undo all the good he had done.
I owe my sisters that much. Let them think they’re goin’ to succeed in marryin’ me off. Let them believe I’ll be happy, even if it’s just for one night.He took a silver brooch in the shape of a stag’s head, and pinned it to his chest, just above his heart, to hold the section of kilt that banded diagonally across his chest and draped over his shoulder.
“Ye look every bit the Laird of Clan Moore,” John said softly. “Show ‘em yer courage, even if ye must hide it behind this.” He handed Felix the black mask, decorated with ornate gold vines and fringed with white feathers, that Meredith had left for him.
Felix set the mask back down on a nearby table. “Nay mask for me, John.” He paused. “Ye should wear it.”
“As ye prefer, M’Laird.” John took the mask and stared at it with a fond smile. “Och, I’ve always wanted to wear one of these.”
“Maybe, ye could wear itandthese garments and pretend ye’re me for the evenin’.” Felix cast him a hopeful glance through the reflection, but John shook his head.
“I cannae do it for ye, M’Laird.”
Felix sniffed. “And ye claim to be loyal.” He mustered a smile. “Very well, I suppose I shouldnae keep the masses waitin’ any longer. The sooner I’m done with the pleasantries, the sooner I can find some peace again.”
In the true Scottish spirit, the masquerade would likely continue on until the early hours of the morning, and the strangers swarming down below would find reasons to be in every hallway, every room, every safe place until daylight chased them back to where they had come from.
Gulping down a quaich of spiced wine that he had poured earlier, he straightened up and marched out of the chamber with his head held high.
* * *
“If ye want to avoid yer wives, ye’d need to mask the rest of ye,” Felix joked, standing awkwardly with Angus and Ryder, his sisters’ husbands.
“Believe me, I wouldnae be able to avoid me wife, even if I wanted to,” Angus added, casting a longing smile at Melissa. “I havenae seen her this giddy in an age. Aye, I could do without the mask itchin’ me face like a nettle sting, but I’ll keep it lashed to me face as long as it keeps that smile onherface.”
Ryder nodded in agreement. “Meredith has been rushin’ around like a fox with its tail on fire, but I ken she’s enjoyed every minute. She was always wantin’ to throw more gatherings at Castle Millar, but other things kept gettin’ in the way.” He sighed. “Och, would ye look at her. I daenae ken if I’ve ever seen her more beautiful, though she becomes more beautiful with every passin’ day.”
Despite their insistence that Felix would be the host of the evening, Meredith and Melissa were lapping up the attention and compliments of the guests. Indeed, they stood out in elegant, elaborate gowns, with long trains that had almost knocked over several children, and wore the most intricate masks—glorious feats of lace and feathers and jewels and silk that made them look ethereal.
“Of course they would appear more beautiful—they’ve got half their faces covered,” Felix joked in a brotherly fashion, gaining what looked like two disapproving stares from his brothers-in-law. Although, it was hard to tell through the oval eyeholes in their masks.
Angus cleared his throat. “I’m goin’ to see if me love wants to dance.”
