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It was Ma's turn to roll her eyes. "Lorna, I know that strong mind o' yours and it's nae always a bad thing but ye must remember—"
"Nae always, eh?" Lorna retorted but she was smiling.
Her mother waved a dismissive hand and said, "Ye know what I mean. Not everyone is as tolerating o' an outspoken woman as we've been in this house and ye know ye only get away with it because yer father is laird. I'm only saying, it will nae always be that way elsewhere."
"I hear ye, Ma," said Lorna, but Ma no longer had her gaze fixed on her – she was standing by the window; looking over the gardener who was hunched on his knees in the flower garden, digging holes and watering plants with his gloved hands and cap.
Lorna took in a slow, steady breath. Her wasn't looking – it was now or never.
As soundlessly as she could manage, she took out the violet dress and shoved it under her bed. Done! Ma's head was still turned to the gardens, her eyes lost in the flowerbeds ten feet below her.
Next, Lorna reached for the bag containing her bow and arrows. Of course, Ma chose that moment to turn around. Lorna bit her tongue to keep from cursing and released her grip on her bow; quickly shoving it aside before her mother’s eyes came to rest upon it.
Ma cocked her head, leveled Lorna a suspicious look. "Lorna—“ she began but Fenella cut her short as she shoved the door open and swooped back in.
"Pa demands yer presence," said Fenella.
Ma's eyes turned up in surprise upon hearing Fenella's words and so did Lorna's. Their reactions were comprehensible, as Pa had morphed intoa man of strict solitude over the years, withered and tucked away in his chambers. He hadn't asked for anyone's presence in a long time.
"Do ye mean that, Fenella?" Lorna asked, feeling dubious. It wasn't beyond her younger sister to play a prank on her.
"Yes, golly," said Fenella. "He sent a servant. I stopped him by the door and took the message for ye." She crossed her legs and started to fan herself as a sly smile stole the corners of her lips. "I dinnae want him intruding on yer sacred marriage-bride talk," she added, and Lorna made a face at her.
Fenella made a face right back. "So? What did ye two splendid ladies speak o' in mine absence? What husbands disapprove o' and from where babies come?"
"Fenella!" cried Ma; a hot flush of red spreading over her face. Lorna bit the inside corners of her cheeks to keep from laughing.
Fenella was a sweet, innocent girl at heart but every so often she enjoyed scandalizing Ma for the fun of it.
Lorna, on the other hand, did not scandalize her or draw on her disapproval for the fun of it. If anything, she preferred to always get along with her and enjoyed that they shared the same views on womanliness and being free-spirited, on husbands and marriages. It was rather quite unfortunate that Lorna had inherited Ma's beauty and Pa's too-strong mind.
Beside her, Ma fanned her face with her hand. Mary Lou was also stifling a grin at Fenella’s outburst.
Lorna smacked Fenella lightly on her thigh. "Ow!" Fenella yelled in lighthearted protest. "Yer going tae make babies someday," she called after her. "Somehow."
"Fenella!" cried Mother.
This time, Lorna couldn't help it. Her shoulders shook as she laughed. "I'll see tae Pa at once," she said as she excused herself. She crossed out of the room but not before whispering to Mary Lou, "Do try tae keep them from devouring each other before I'm back."
Then, she stepped out of her chambers and shut the door behind her.
A servant was kneeling beside Pa as Lorna entered his chamber. The short lass pulled the sheets over Pa's neck and shakily raised a glass of water to his lips. He gulped the water and then pushed the cup away.
"Excuse us," he said in his deep rasping voice to the lass who bowed and scurried out the door.
They were now alone. She smoothed her damp hands on the sides of her dress and sat on the stool beside him. "How do you feel, Pa?"
Her father mumbled something to himself while smiling at her. He'd had a fever for a few daysbut even when he wasn't sick, heremained tucked away;alone in the confines of his chamber or study – his meals alwaysbrought up to him. Shecould count on her fingers how many times she had seen her father in private settings.
And because of that, shehad gotten away with boyish pursuits like throwing stones, carving her own catapults, and playing with her uncle's swords: Pa had been too occupied with his solitude to shun her misguided inclinations, too preoccupied to stop her from sneaking out into the woods with her friends and practicing her self-carved bow and arrow.
He had not always been this shrunken and pale, she had learned. He used to be a sweeping storm of a man, bright-eyed and sure-footed, commanding presence from even the most hardened of men. He took over enemy villages. He crushed clans that rose up against them. Nobody knew what had caused him to collapse into a shadow of himselfbut Lorna knew when it happened.
Things had soured roughly after his return from the battle with the MacLeans, twelve years ago or so, after her betrothal to the son of the MacLean laird. Twelve years ago, when her life's purpose was decided for her: to be the bride of the future laird of their clans, to serve him and bear his children. The entire trajectory of her life had been altered in a single day, with a single decision.
Her life had never been the same since that day, but neither had Pa's.
Hesat up straight after removing the sheets from his chest andgrabbed Lorna's hand with all the strength his bones could muster, which wasn't much. "I feel strong as a mountain, dear lass," he answered her at last, "finer than I was yesterday."
