Page 15 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)
Lily lingered by the window long after Alasdair had left her chamber. His words echoed in her mind, low and steady, as though he had meant them. She pressed her hand against the windowpane, unsure of what to think.
Perhaps it was only a ploy, his way of trying to soften her and put himself back into her good graces. He had always been clever with words, careful with the weight they carried. Still, there was something in his voice that she had not heard before. Something honest. Something she almost believed.
Well, a string of words wouldn’t undo ten years of damage.
She shook her head, as if to rid herself of the thought. She would not be duped so easily.
The door opened, and Daisy stepped back inside, carrying a pile of fresh bedsheets.
“Me Lady,” she asked with a smile, “shall I help ye get ready?”
“Aye,” Lily said, stepping away from the window. “We have a busy morning.”
Daisy set the bedsheets on the chair and walked to the wardrobe. “Which will ye wear?” she asked, sorting through the gowns.
Lily pointed to the deep green dress draped across the chest at the foot of the bed. “That one. Bring it here.”
Daisy paused, her lips pressing together. A sigh escaped her before she caught it.
Lily arched an eyebrow. “Do ye have a problem with it?”
The maid’s eyes darted up and down. “Nay, me Lady. Nae at all.”
Lily let out a laugh, soft but edged. “Daisy, I have only been here for two days, but I have ken ye long enough. If ye wish to scold me for the dresses, do it outright.”
“I wouldnae dare,” Daisy muttered as she lifted the gown.
“Then keep yer sighs to yerself,” Lily said, her voice still light, almost on the edge of laughter.
She took off her shift and raised her arms so Daisy could help her step into the dress. The cool fabric slid against her skin, the green darker than the forest outside.
As Daisy tied the laces, Lily’s gaze strayed to the wardrobe. The moonlight-blue gown caught her eye again, shining softly under the weak morning sun, and her heart clenched.
She tilted her head toward Daisy and let the words fall before she could stop them. “What do ye think of that one?”
Daisy turned her head. “The blue gown?”
“Aye. Would it suit me?”
The maid’s eyes softened, her hands pausing on the laces. “It would more than suit ye. It would be spectacular. Truly, me Lady. Would ye like me to fetch it?”
Lily’s eyes drifted back to the gown, then away again. Her chest warmed, then cooled all at once. She knew if she wore it, she would be yielding to him. She would be giving him a small victory.
But she would not.
Not now. Not ever.
“Nay,” she responded quickly. “Hell will freeze over before I wear what he picks.”
Daisy’s mouth twitched, but she said nothing in response. She finished tying the last lace and smoothed the skirt. “There. Ye are ready.”
Lily drew a breath. “Good. Let us be off.”
They left the chamber together and made their way to the hall. The storm clouds hung low again, shadows lying thick across the ground. The men were quieter than yesterday, more orderly as they rose to greet her. Lily walked among them, her smile light, her voice steady.
She bent over one cot where a young man stirred. “How are ye this morning?” she asked.
Sorcha answered from the far side of the hall, “The men are stronger today, me Lady. A few of them left in the middle of the night to be with their families, so more beds are emptying each day.”
“I really wish ye would wake me when things like this happen,” Lily said.
Sorcha shook her head. “Daenae worry, me Lady. Most of them were already back to full health. ‘Tis why I saw nay concern.”
Lily sighed but did not press further. She stepped from one cot to another, greeting each man, hearing their stories. A few of them even laughed when she teased them, and for a while, the weight in her chest grew lighter.
When she reached Ian, she crouched by his side and touched his arm.The color had returned to his cheeks.
“Better than yesterday,” she noted.
He nodded with a weak smile. “Much better, me Lady.”
She pressed her palm to his wrist and felt his pulse. Stronger. “Ye need more food heavy with iron. Barley bread, black pudding, and liver, if they can fetch it. Tell the maids. Ye must eat it all.”
Ian swallowed. “Aye.”
As she straightened, a young maid entered the hall and hurried toward her. Lily turned to her as she bowed her head. “Me Lady, the council waits in the castle. They’re askin’ for ye.”
Lily’s heart sank, and she turned to Sorcha, who stood with her arms crossed. “It would be poor if I daenae show up again, would it nae?”
“Aye,” Sorcha said. “Go on. We will tend to the men. They arenae going anywhere.”
Lily gave a small nod, then turned back to Ian. “I will return later. Stay strong.”
She left the hall with Daisy by her side. The air outside was thick and heavy, and the clouds were even darker than before.
Lily tilted her head up to the sky. “How does it grow so dark and never rain?” she asked.
Daisy looked up as well with a shrug. “‘Tis the way of it here. The sky often shouts, but it rarely weeps. Nothing more than false alarms.”
Lily shook her head, though a small smile curved her lips. She gathered her skirt and hurried toward the castle.
It was just the council. She could handle them.
The great doors of the council chambers creaked open, and she stepped inside. The men ahead immediately all stopped talking, and they swallowed as she approached them.
She could get used to this, to the power she possessed. As she drew closer and heard the door slam shut behind her, the men stood up, one after the other, giving her slight bows.
“Gentlemen, please,” she said, her voice even and her lips curving just slightly. She lifted a hand to dismiss the formality. “There is nay need for that.”
She felt their eyes on her as she moved, but she refused to pay them any mind. There were seven men in total, all seated around the table, including Alasdair. Their eyes were still on her as she moved, and she knew they wouldn’t stop until she sat down.
Alasdair also didn’t take his eyes off her. He was staring at her like he wanted to scream. And a part of her knew why.
The dress.
The dull green fabric fell heavily against her figure. It was another one of the dresses he despised. Yet here she was, wearing it in front of his councilmen. She held her chin high and let no hint of self-consciousness show, though she could see the muscle in his jaw tick.
Before she could pull out her own chair, Alasdair rose slightly and waved a hand toward the elders. “Lily,” he said, his voice rich and measured, “may I present ye to me councilmen? Colm. Trevor. Thomas.” He paused on the last, his mouth hardening. “Me uncle.” Then, he continued. “Jacob. Angus.”
They dipped their heads in stiff acknowledgment, and Lily’s smirk widened.
“So many fine names, and yet nae a woman among ye,” she remarked, letting her gaze sweep across the table. “Seems I must navigate me place amongst all men. That shouldnae be too difficult.”
Her words elicited laughter from a few, while others shifted uncomfortably.
Alasdair gestured toward Finn, who sat at the other end of the table, his expression unreadable. “Ye ken Finn, of course.”
Finn grinned and rose from his chair. He crossed toward her, took her hand, and bowed over it. A shiver ran down her spine as his lips brushed her knuckles lightly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Laudanum smells good on ye,” he teased, his tone low but clear enough to carry.
A laugh escaped her lips, light and genuine. For a moment, she forgot the room, forgot the weight of their stares, and let the sound ring. She left her hand in his for longer than necessary, until Alasdair cleared his throat.
The sound cut sharply through the air, and she exhaled. Finn released her hand at once and stepped back with a sheepish smile. Lily rolled her eyes, suppressing another laugh, and reached for a chair. She dragged it slightly away from where Alasdair sat and prepared to lower herself.
“There,” she said, half to herself.
“Yer chair is here.” Alasdair gestured to the empty space beside him.
Her eyebrows arched. “I prefer this one.”
Before Alasdair could speak again, Colm leaned forward, his voice low but crisp. “The Lady always sits beside the Laird. ‘Tis custom, lass. And tradition isnae lightly cast aside.”
Lily inhaled, then released a breath through her nose. She tilted her head toward Colm and offered a thin smile. “Well, we wouldnae want to disrespect tradition now, would we?”
Her skirt swished as she turned, carrying herself with deliberate grace to the seat at Alasdair’s side. She lowered herself into it, the closeness between them impossible to ignore.
His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned closer and whispered, “Why do ye still wear these ugly dresses?”
Lily turned her head, her lips barely parted, her smirk soft and sharp all at once. “Because I enjoy it.”
Colm cleared his throat and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, a hint of nervousness on his face.
“Let us start with the first order of business,” he said, his sharp eyes flicking to Lily. “First, we must thank ye, Lady MacRay, for tendin’ to the wounded. Those men fought bravely in the war, and if ye hadnae arrived when ye did?—”
“Ye mean if I hadnae been kidnapped?” Lily cut in before she could stop herself.
The men froze, and for the span of three seconds, not a soul moved. Every elder stared at her, their jaws slack as if she had grown a second head. Her eyes darted to Alasdair, whose jaw was tense and his eyes glued to the wooden table.
She returned her gaze to the councilmen and arched an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “Och, gentlemen, ‘twas just a joke. Tradition allows a lady to jest, does it nae?”
The tension crackled, and Thomas chuckled first, a short bark that broke the dam, and the others followed. Soon, laughter filled the hall.