Duncan had no idea why Baltair had helped Aishlinn and he doubted he would ever learn the reason. “Now,” Duncan said slapping his hands upon his knees before standing. “I’ve work to see to,” he told her. “I am glad that ye’re doing well, Aishlinn.”
Aishlinn stood and from the expression on her face, he could tell there was something on her mind. “What is it, lass?” he asked.
“What of me now?” she said quietly. “If the English are not looking for me, what shall I do? Where do I go?” She felt completely lost. Terrified of the English soldiers all these many days, she had made no plans for her future other than surviving it.
Duncan smiled. “This is yer home lass, at least as far as I am concerned. We’ll no’ worry over anythin’ else until Angus returns. For now, I wish ye to consider this,” he said spreading his arms out wide, “yer home.”
He suppressed the urge to pull her into his arms again.
“Thank you Duncan,” she whispered softly. “Shall I move to the maids chambers?” she asked him, “I’m ready to begin earning my keep.”
Duncan needed no time to think on it. “Ye are a guest in this castle until Angus says otherwise. When he returns, he’ll decide what tasks to give to ya. For now, ye’ll stay here, in this room.”
Had he admitted to it, which he would not do unless under direct threat of death, he enjoyed knowing she was but a few steps from his own room.
When he had seen her face for the first time, free of the bruises, his heart had skipped a beat or two or ten. For the life of him he could not figure out where these blasted thoughts were coming from. He did not like the idea of her moving below stairs and sleeping in the solar with the other women. He liked the idea of having her near.
“Aishlinn, will ya sit with me at the evening meal this night?” The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them. Although he would very much enjoy having her sitting next to him at the evening meal, he was not sure if he would be able to keep his hands to himself.
“In the gathering room? With everyone?” she asked. She had never attended an evening meal as a guest before. A servant she was and nothing more. Her meals were always eaten in the kitchens, never with the powerful or privileged.
Duncan laughed at her. “Of course, in the gatherin’ room with everyone,” he said. She was a perplexing thing.
Aishlinn attempted to speak, stopped and tried again with no success. She searched for a way to word her question without appearing daft. “As a guest?” she asked him.
“Aye. As my guest.” He was puzzled by her question. “What be the matter lass?” he asked her.
She blew out the deep breath she had been holding. “Please do not think me ungrateful Duncan, for you know that I truly am,” she began. “But I’ve never been a guest to an evening meal. I’m a servant, a scullery maid. I’m not used to such things.” A wave of red came to her skin and Duncan found that he rather liked the fact that she was painfully innocent.
“And?” he said, as he crossed his arms over his chest and silently cursed the English. The manner in which they treated the poor was shameful.
Her skin grew more crimson as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve no clothes!” she blurted out. “I have the shift Bree has given me and nothing else. I know not what happened to my dress, the one I was wearing when you found me. Do you have it? Please say you do so that I can mend it before the evening meal!”
More embarrassment came to her when she saw his scowl deepen as his eyes turned to black slits. She took the scowl to mean that her worn and tattered dress was not the proper thing to wear for such an occasion. She felt her heart fall to her toes.
“I’m sorry Duncan,” she said, staring at her bare feet that instantly reminded her that she did not even own a pair of shoes. “I’ll eat in the kitchens. It would probably be more proper for me to do so anyway.”
She cursed her own heart for allowing it to let her think for even the briefest of moments that she was worthy of dinning in the gathering room as a guest.
Damn! She had a way of pulling at his heart! She’d lived a life he could not imagine and had been through one hellish ordeal the past weeks. Duncan knew all too well how she must be feeling at the moment. When he had come here as a boy, he had been in the same predicament. Not a damn thing to her name. Not even a stitch of clothing to call her own.
He pulled her chin up with his fingertips, forcing her to look at him. He had to tamp down the lust that shot up in his belly when he looked into those deep green eyes.
“Lass, yer dress was too ruined to be saved and it was thrown away.” He could see a fire begin to form in her eyes as she began to protest. “Ye’ve a new life here, Aishlinn. One I’m sure will take some gettin’ used to. I’ll see to it that ya have a suitable dress to wear. And I’ll no’ have ya argue that ye’ll no’ go.”
Aishlinn began to protest but stopped when the scowl came back to his face. She was prepared to absolutely insist that she knew her true station and life and it did not involve grand meals in the gathering room.
“I’ll no’ hear anymore on the matter.” he told her firmly. ‘Twas then that her deep green eyes, brimming with tears, melted his heart like butter left in the sun. “Twould be my great honor and privilege to have ya sit with me this night, Aishlinn.”
She could only nod her head, for his blue eyes were quite penetrating. And the way her skin felt, as if it were on fire, was the most peculiar sensation she had ever felt. She supposed it would do her no good to argue. But tomorrow she would insist that things be put to normal, with her below stairs where she belonged.
“I’ll send Bree in to help ya, lass,” he said before turning and leaving the room. For the life of her she could not figure out why her legs shook and her heart skipped several beats as she watched him leave.
******
Bree returned to Aishlinn’s room as she had promised, her arms heavy with many dresses. She laid them upon the bed and began to hold each one up, twisting her lips, studying each one closely.
“These are some of Bridget’s old dresses,” she said, tossing aside a beautiful red gown. “Bridget is me older sister, well one of my foster sisters. Mum and dad have helped to raise many. She’s married now and has a bairn. Bridgett lives in Ireland -- she married an Irishman! I ken she’ll not mind ya wearing them!” She was prattling on so quickly that Aishlinn was having a difficult time keeping up and wondered from where on earth this girl drew her energy!
Aishlinn came to stand beside the bed and looked at the dresses. They were indeed fine and magnificent gowns of all colors and styles. Bree cried with glee when she found the one she’d been searching for.
“Tis the one ya should wear!” she said as she pulled a spectacular deep purple gown from the pile. Made of very expensive silk with fine gold braiding around the collar and the sleeves, Aishlinn thought it far too grand and she could not imagine wearing it.
Holding up the dress next to Aishlinn, Bree said, “Aye, this is definitely the one. It brings out the green of yer eyes!” Bree was far more excited about the notion than Aishlinn happened to be.
“I could not wear something so fine Bree!” Aishlinn protested. “Perhaps you have something a little more plain?” Plain girls, she thought to herself, do not wear such things and only the well-to-do and royalty wore silk! Peasants were relegated to wool or linen.
“Don’t be silly lass! Of course ya can wear it. Ya must wear it!” she smiled brightly. “The lads will be tripping over their tongues when they catch site of ya in this!” she giggled.
Back and forth they went with Bree insisting she wear the gown and Aishlinn insisting she shouldn’t. Bree finally gave up and with a heavy sigh laid the dress upon the bed and walked out of the room. Aishlinn sank onto the stool relieved that Bree was gone. She hoped that she would return with a dress more fitting of Aishlinn’s standing in life.
Moments later Aishlinn looked up to find Duncan standing in the doorway. “What’s this I
hear about ye no’ wantin’ to wear a beautiful gown?” He was smiling. Aishlinn was trying to catch her breath as she sat frozen on the stool. His smile had effect on her that she could not understand.
Duncan walked to the bed, picked up the purple gown and examined it closely. “Is the dress no’ to yer likin’?” he asked.
“Nay! It’s a fine dress. I’ve never seen one more beautiful,” she told him.
“Then what be the problem?” he asked as he walked towards her. Aishlinn stood, wishing she could run and hide, but he was blocking the door. Why must he have that infernal smile upon his face?
When she did not answer, he walked closer to her. “Why will ye no’ wear it?”
Aishlinn swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “It is a fine dress.”
“Aye, that it is.” He took another step closer as Aishlinn took another back.
“It is a fine dress.” she knew not what else to say at the moment. There was something about his smile that made her insides feel as though she had cat o’mountains wrestling inside it. It apparently had an effect on her mouth as well, for she was unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence that would make any sense.
“Ya said that.” He was still smiling and continued to step towards her. Soon, she felt the wall against her back; she was trapped.
“Duncan.” she managed to whisper. Her mouth had gone completely dry.
“Aye?” he said as he cocked an eyebrow. He stood so closely that she could feel his warm breath upon her face.
While she rather enjoyed having him so near, there was a large part of her that wished he wasn’t. His deep blue eyes and smile made it nearly impossible to breathe. “I’d not be deserving of wearing such a fine gown.”
His brow furrowed. “What do ya mean no’ deservin’?”
“I’m not meant to wear such grand things, Duncan.” She took a very deep breath. “I’m a plain girl and I would look silly wearing such a thing.”
His scowl deepened. “Ye be far from plain lass. And I’ll no’ have ya saying yer plain again.”
The lass had no idea just how beautiful she truly was. He cursed the fool that had convinced her otherwise. His voice and stance softened when he saw the fearful look in her eyes. “I think ya’d look beautiful in such a gown.”
Aishlinn shook her head. She knew he was just being kind and meant not what he was saying. She began to protest further when he came so close to her that he was close enough to kiss. She pushed the thought away as far as she could. It was a ridiculous notion.
“It would make me very happy to see ya in it.” he told her as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Would ya wear it for me, lass?”
His voice was as smooth as the silk dress he wanted her to wear. “I believe it would also make the chief’s daughter happy as well.”
She could not think with him this close. What had he said? “Chief’s daughter?” She hadn’t a clue what he spoke of. ?
“Bree. She be the chief’s daughter,” he told her.
“She’s the chief’s daughter?” Aishlinn repeated before it finally sunk in. “Bree is the chief’s daughter?” She was shocked to hear it. Never in the past days had Bree mentioned who her father was.
“Aye, that she is.” He had not moved and his smile had grown brighter. He put his hand on the wall over her head as he stared down at her.
She wanted to crawl away. As far as Aishlinn could tell, the chief and his family were the equivalent of English royalty! And she had allowed the chief’s daughter to see her unclothed and had even allowed her to wash her hair, to feed her and help her to the privy! Aishlinn felt humiliated and embarrassed.
“What be the matter, lass?” Duncan asked, still holding that wry smile upon those full lips.
“She helped me to bathe!” His blank stare told her he did not comprehend the significance of the matter. “She’s the chief’s daughter and she helped me to bathe! She combed my hair! She brought me meals! I should be the one tending to her!” She felt like such a fool.
“And if she be the chief’s daughter and your sister, that makes you the chief’s son!”
“Aye, it does. He be my foster father. I’m one among many the man has helped to raise.”
Aishlinn was horrified and embarrassed. She had nearly kissed the chief’s son! Foster or not, it would have been a most terrible temptation to succumb to.
Duncan laughed at her. “Lass, we hold no pretenses here like the English do!” he said. “Why, Isobel, the chief’s wife,” he said with mock horror in his voice, “actually helps to deliver bairns!”
Aishlinn wanted very much at that moment to kick him square in his knee. She did not like being mocked any more than she liked being laughed at. “It isn’t funny, Duncan McEwan!”
It took several moments before he stopped laughing. “I am sorry, lass. But ya have to understand. None of us here sits atop high horses like the English do and pretend we be better than any one else. We leave those notions to the English.” His eyes seemed to twinkle even brighter.
“Lass,” he said lowering his voice and moving in close to her again. “Ya be no’ plain. And it truly would bring me great pleasure to see ya in the purple gown.”
He inched closer, his lips nearly touching hers. Aishlinn felt herself going weak in the knees again. “Would ya please wear it? For me?” he whispered.
Every part of her wanted to say ‘yes, I’ll wear it for you, but only if you kiss me.’ She did not have the nerve to say it aloud. “I’ll wear it,” she whispered, wishing she could take it back the moment the words passed over her lips. “But only to not insult Bree.” she swallowed hard again. “The chief’s daughter.”
“For the chief’s daughter then.” he said and after what seemed like an eternity he straightened himself and backed away. Aishlinn let out a sigh of relief.
Duncan laid the dress back upon the bed. He smiled as he turned to look at her. “And ya no’ be plain, lass.” he said before he left the room.
She stood on quivering knees and her heart that felt as though it would leap from her chest and go bouncing out of the room to follow him. She tried to convince herself that she was coming down with some illness, the fevers perhaps. There was no other explanation for these odd feelings and sensations she was beginning to have, at least none that she felt brave enough to admit to.
******
It was quite difficult to speak with Bree after learning of her stature and standing among the clan. Aishlinn felt overwhelmingly uneasy with allowing the chief’s daughter to braid her hair or to assist with getting into the purple gown. And Aishlinn felt close to fainting when the girl put magnificent slippers upon her feet!
Bree sensed that something was amiss. It took some prodding but she was finally able to pry from Aishlinn exactly what was the matter.
“What silly notions ya have, lass!” Bree told her as she grabbed a mirror from the table and handed it to Aishlinn.
“I’ve told ya before that we hold no false pretenses here. I have many friends but I find I can always use another!”
Aishlinn had been raised so differently from these people. The more she learned the more out of place she felt. She was also beginning to wonder if it was a mistake not to have fled to London. At least there she knew what the rules were and how to behave. In London, she’d not be forced to look a fool wearing such a fine gown and slippers. No matter how they tried to convince her otherwise, she simply did not feel right or proper dressing in such a manner.
“Aishlinn,” Bree said taking her hand. “I know ya were raised differently, with different ideas and notions and such. But ye be here now. We’re a good people, lass, and no one here would ever harm ye in any manner.”
Aishlinn knew that Bree and Duncan and the others meant no ill will towards her. They were merely being kind. It was their way. They couldn’t change that any more than Aishlinn could change the color of her eyes.
It certainly could not be said that Aishlinn was ungrateful. She h
ad prayed her entire life for the comforts of a loving and kind family. But now that it was being offered to her, free and clear with no strings attached, she found that she was frightened by it.
Bree had finished braiding Aishlinn’s hair as best she could and tied a fine deep purple ribbon around the ends. She handed the mirror to Aishlinn and said, “Have a look lass. I think ya look beautiful.”
Over the past many days Aishlinn had learned that Bree was as unrelenting as she was good-natured. Knowing it would do her no good to argue, she took in a deep breath and accepted the mirror. She was astonished to find the bruises nearly gone, save for the slight green and yellow around her eyes, and one mark left on her jaw. Though the bruises may be gone, she still found it difficult to believe herself anything but plain. Frustrated, she put the mirror back on the table.
Bree rolled her eyes, smiled and retrieved the mirror. “Look beyond the bruises, lass. I’d not lie to ya. Ya really are quite beautiful.” She held out the mirror with a look of dogged determination across her face.
Plain girls do not need a mirror to know they are plain. Plainness needs no affirmation. In an attempt to have Bree drop the subject all together, Aishlinn relented and took another look.
Doing something she’d never done before she studied her own face. I suppose my jaw is average, as is my nose. There be nothing special about them. Perhaps her nose was not quite as big as her brothers had told her it was. Still it was just a nose.
My lips. Maybe my lips are not too thin, nor are they too full, but they are still just plain lips. And my cheeks. Perhaps they’d look better with a bit of pink pinched into them instead of the green blotches they currently held.
Perhaps I am not hideous, she thought. But I am definitely no beauty like Bree. Plain yes, but maybe not quite as hideous as my brothers had told me. That was a thought she could live with.
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