Page 160

Exactly half an hour after leaving Havilland to dress, Jamison had returned.

He was without his mail on this day. Instead, he wore a type of traditional Highland dress– over a traditional saffron tunic he wore his brecan, woven around his waist to create the traditional great kilt, or pladjer – the Gaelic name for the type of dress he was wearing.

It was a very Scots style of dress, something Jamison never really wore, but on this occasion, he thought he should.

He was proud to wear it, proud for Havilland to see him in it.

This was what she would be marrying into, a clan that was nearly as old as Scotland herself.

On his feet were his heavy boots, something that wasn’t particularly Scots but he liked his shoes and didn’t want to part with them. He’d washed his face and hands, and he’d even shaved, so when he knocked on Havilland’s chamber door, he was ready to face her.

But what he saw when the door opened took his breath away.

Havilland stood before him, dressed in her mother’s green dress, laced into the garment so that her breasts looked full and delicious and her slender waist was emphasized.

Her dark hair, so soft and lovely, had been plaited into two braids that draped elegantly over her shoulders.

Someone who knew something about dressing women had taken a pale green scarf made from albatross , a very fine type of fabric, and had wrapped it around her head, like a headband, and wove it into her braids.

Jamison swore, at that very moment, that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

“M’lady,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Surely the angels are jealous of yer beauty. Ye’re the finest woman I’ve ever had the privilege tae see.”

Havilland flushed deeply, hugely flattered and hugely embarrassed. “My thanks,” she said. “Bethan helped us dress.”

“Bethan?”

Havilland pointed into the chamber to the older serving woman standing over by Amaline. “She used to be my mother’s maid.”

Jamison nodded to the woman. He had met her during the course of the early morning when he had her bring garments up to Havilland’s chamber.

“Ye’ve done her justice,” he said to Bethan.

Catching sight of Amaline, whose wild red hair had been tamed and put into a hair net, he smiled his approval.

“On both ladies. Ye’ve done a remarkable job. ”

The old maid waved him off, grinning. “’Tis you I should thank, my lord,” she said, finishing with a pin in Amaline’s hair.

“I have been wanting to tame these young women for years but there has been no one to support my position. Lady Precious’ daughters are meant to be young women, not soldiers in the field. ”

Jamison chuckled at the old woman, chuckling again when Amaline yelped because a pin poked her scalp. But his gaze returned to Havilland, standing beautiful and groomed before him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Well?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Looking the way you were always meant to look.”

Havilland grinned, pulling nervously at the scarf on her head. “It seems very strange,” she admitted. “I saw myself in the bronze mirror and I am the exact image of my mother.”

“Then yer mother was a beautiful woman.”

“Aye, she was,” she said. Then, her gaze moved down his body, realizing he wasn’t wearing any breeches. He had his cloak all wrapped around his torso and legs and she peered strangely at his clothing. “What are you wearing?”

Jamison looked down at himself. “This is what the Highlanders wear, lass,” he told her.

“Ye see this long stretch of fabric? ’Tis called a brecan .

The way I have it doubled up and wrapped around me legs is called a pladjer .

And the big tunic ye see beneath it is traditional, too.

It goes down tae me knees. We dress this way for comfort and warmth. ’Tis the proud dress o’ a Scotsman.”

Havilland was looking at it all quite closely. “I have seen you wear this woolen fabric as a cloak,” she said. “But I have never seen it used for a skirt before.”

He grinned. “If ye tell a Scotsmen he is wearin’ a skirt, then ye’d better be prepared tae defend yer words,” he said, watching her grin. “’Tis no skirt, lass. ’Tis a Scotsman’s traditional clothing and we wear it proudly.”

She looked up at him. “But you wear breeches and tunics like the English,” she said. “Why do you not dress like your kinsmen all of the time?”

He shrugged. “’Tis a personal choice for me,” he said. “I am more comfortable with me legs covered.”

It was a simple explanation but it made sense.

Jamison continued to stand there, grinning like a fool at Havilland because once the discussion about his clothing was finished, the focus was back on her and her dress.

She looked so vastly uncomfortable that he found it humorous.

But he knew it was purely out of ignorance on her part.

If the woman realized the scope of even half of her beauty, she wouldn’t be embarrassed at all.

She was embarrassed because all of this was so new and uncertain to her.

But she wouldn’t be embarrassed long, he hoped.

May new things were coming to her today and he hoped she would find all of it thrilling.

“There,” Bethan shoved the last pin into Amaline’s hair, swatting the girl on the backside when she whined and pulled away. “The ladies are ready, my lord.”

“Excellent,” Jamison said. Then, he held out an elbow to Havilland, who looked at it dumbly. She had no idea what to do with it. “M’lady, when a man offers ye his arm, he means tae escort ye.”

“Escort me where?”

“Take me elbow, ye insufferable wench.”

He said it so comically that Havilland snorted at him and clutched his elbow. “Very well, then,” she said. “What about Amaline? Will she take your elbow, too?”

He nodded. “Of course, she will,” he said. “Once we quit the keep, I’ll have ye both on me arms and I’ll be the most envied man at Four Crosses.”

Amaline was still fussing with the stabbing pins in her scalp as she followed Jamison and Havilland from the chamber.

Jamison preceded them down the stairs that led to the entry level of the keep.

Sunlight streamed in from the open door and from a pair of ventilation windows high over the entry, illuminating the entryway with soft white light.

As Jamison came off of the bottom step into the entry, holding out a hand to help Havilland down as she cautiously held her skirts up to her knees, she finally came off the steps and clutched his hand, looking at him rather strangely.

“Where are you taking us?” she asked.

“Ye’ll see,” he said coyly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Something seems very strange with you.”

He simply grinned at her and opened the door.

Stepping out onto the top of the stairs that led down into the bailey, Havilland and Amaline were faced with Thad and Tobias, down in the bailey before them, both of them dressed to the hilt in armor and weapons.

They were dressed for battle. A group of soldiers stood around them, forming a circle, and Havilland was immediately concerned that something terrible was taking place.

That is, until Tobias saw the ladies emerge from the keep.

Both he and Thad turned to them, bowing deeply.

“Lady Havilland,” Tobias said loudly, “and Lady Amaline. We have prepared for you this day an amazing spectacle of games and mock battles. You ladies shall preside over the games as our queens. The first contest will be me against my foolish cousin to see who will have the honor of bearing Lady Amaline’s favor for the remainder of the games.

Be prepared to be amazed by my skill as I beat my cousin into the ground. ”

Havilland and Amaline were greatly awed and greatly confused. They had no idea what was going on. A festival? Here? When they turned to Jamison for clarification, he could see a thousand questions in their eyes. His gaze was gentle upon Havilland as he spoke.

“Ye couldna travel tae Alis de Lara’s festival,” he said simply. “We thought tae bring the festival tae ye.”

Havilland’s eyes widened. “Bring it to me ?” she gasped, looking at Thad and Tobias again as they collected their weapons in preparation for the fight. “You… you did…?”

She couldn’t even finish her sentence, completely overwhelmed by what she was seeing. Jamison took her hand, gently, and tucked it into his elbow.

“Today, we bring some joy and adventure tae Four Crosses,” he said quietly.

“Havi, I know it has been a terrible few days for ye. Hell, ’tis been a terrible few years.

Yesterday, when you asked tae attend Alis de Lara’s party, I’d never seen ye so excited.

Ye’ve lived such a plain and brutal life that any mention of something beautiful and frivolous had ye glowing.

But Madeline’s imprisonment and the truth of yer father’s condition took that joy out of ye.

I couldna stand tae see that happen. Ye may think this is in poor taste because of Madeline being in the vault, or because of the situation in general, but for one day I didna think it was too much tae ask tae try and bring happiness into yer heart again.

It’s only for a day, love. For one day, I want ye tae pretend there is no sorrow in yer life and no uncertainty.

For today, pretend there is nothin’ but joy. That is what I want tae bring tae ye.”

Havilland stared at him and he could see the emotions running through her head.

Her wide-eyed gaze told him everything– the shock, the disbelief, and the thrill.

She was overwhelmed. As he watched, her eyes grew misty and she began to blink rapidly as if to stave off the tears that threatened.

She looked out over the bailey where she could see that a few other things were going on as well.

There seemed to be something that looked like a fenced-off arena over by the troop house and men were milling about, still working on things.

After a moment, she shook her head in wonder.

“You did all of this for me?” she whispered.

Jamison nodded faintly. “All for ye.”

Havilland was genuinely speechless and struggling not to tear up. “No one has ever done anything for me,” she said hoarsely. “Certainly never anything like this. A… real festival?”

“Better than any festival Alis de Lara would put on,” he said arrogantly. But she seemed so taken aback by the entire thing that he was worried he might have offended her. “I am sorry if ye think this is in poor taste because of current circumstances, but….”

She cut him off, shaking her head. “Nay,” she said quickly.

“’Tis not that at all. ’Tis simply that…

that I have never even attended a festival before.

I have never had anyone be so kind to me like this.

I do not know what to say to you except that I am deeply touched that you would go to the trouble. ”

He patted the hand clutching his elbow. “’Twas no trouble at all,” he assured her.

“This is as much for the men as it ’tis for ye.

They need something tae boost their morale, also.

Months of fighting can take its toll. If men are tae keep up the fight, sometimes they need some happiness and hope tae help them along. ”

It made perfect sense to Havilland, who clutched his elbow tightly as Tobias and Thad launched a vicious attack against each other.

Sparks flew and men grunted as an exciting battle ensured in the bailey, right at the feet of Havilland and Amaline.

They were the queens, watching men battle on their favor.

It was a welcome battle, indeed.