Page 6 of Taken By the Highland Villain
CHAPTER 4
The ‘beastly’Laird MacFinn might be a bit dour and gruff, and the castle is certainly as gloomy as the other seamstresses said it was, but the man himself doesnae look nearly so terrifying or terrible as the rumors suggest.
In truth, as Valerie watched the emotions play across his stern visage, she thought the Laird was rather handsome. He was tall, muscular, and lean, with a warrior’s build.
His hair was as dark as her own, though his was tangled and somewhat unkempt, especially his beard. That looked as though it hadn’t been brushed or tended to in weeks. The shadowy state of the room made it difficult to tell the color of his eyes, but she thought it was either gray or a steely blue.
The only thing that marred his looks, aside from the need for a trim of his beard, was the seemingly perpetual frown that deepened the lines around his mouth and carved furrows in his brow.
His appearance was so different from Laird MacOlley’s that that alone might have drawn her attention and her interest—if she were inclined to be interested in any man at all. Right now, however, all she wanted was an opportunity and a haven, at least for a short while.
Valerie opened her mouth to try and persuade the Laird of her qualifications as a seamstress, but he turned away from her to glower at the other man and the maid who had announced her. “I dinnae recall sendin’ for a seamstress, nor askin’ anyone to provide one.”
Valerie blinked. It was clear from the state of his curtains and his well-worn clothes that he neededsomeonewith experience in sewing and altering clothes. Even if the clothes he wore were simply an old, favorite outfit that he donned when he wasn’t expecting visitors or while performing certain tasks, the drapes were far too heavy and dreary for the room.
“Well, lass?”
Valerie realized with a start that he was awaiting some explanation from her.
“I dinnae ken what ye want me to say, My Laird. I heard from a seamstress visiting my home town that ye were seeking someone. She seemed certain that ye needed a seamstress, and she was very clear on yer name, and describin’ yer castle and lands.”
“Even so, she has to be mistaken, and I dinnae need?—”
The Laird was interrupted by the other man, who cleared his throat. There was a sheepish expression on his angular face as his brown eyes met the Laird’s.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, My Laird, but the young lass is likely tellin’ ye the truth. I…” He grinned. “I might have started a rumor that ye were in need of a new seamstress, and willin’ to pay a handsome amount of gold for someone to come and make a new wardrobe and the like for ye.”
The Laird’s scowl deepened. “And why the devil would ye do that?”
The man stood his ground. “Because most of yer clothes are too old; they arenae fit for a laird. And what ye do have that is worth wearing, ye dinnae wear because it is uncomfortable, what with yer injury?—”
The Laird let out a low growl, cutting him off. “That’s nothin’ ye need to speak of, and I dinnae need any new clothes.”
Valerie stepped forward. She could see no injury that might make clothing uncomfortable, but if the Laird didn’t want to discuss such things, then perhaps she could win his acceptance by broaching a different topic.
“Even if it is true that ye dinnae need more clothing, My Laird, the same cannae be said of yer curtains.” She stepped closer to the far wall. “I can see from here that the fabric is in need of washin’ and mendin’, and the drapes ye’re usin’ right now are too heavy. They dinnae let in any light or fresh air. I could?—”
“Come with me,” the Laird cut her off with a brusque gesture.
As he moved across the room, Valerie noticed he was limping. It wasn’t an extreme limp, but it gave her an idea of what his manservant might have meant when he spoke of an injury, and why certain garments might be uncomfortable or difficult to wear.
Fortunately, her time spent mending and making clothes for her father’s men had given her a great deal of experience in designing and creating garments that were both comfortable and well-fitting for all manner of injuries. Modifying clothing for a lame leg was hardly the most difficult task she had ever undertaken.
“Now, lass. Nae tomorrow, nae in a minute.”
The sharp words wrenched Valerie out of her contemplations. She flushed at the impatient look on his face and hurried after him.
He seemed to have little desire to talk to her, and his demeanor was so unwelcoming and gruff that walking beside him felt like attempting to interact with a stone wall.
Valerie frowned, wondering if he was naturally so taciturn or simply trying to intimidate her with his silence. If it was the latter, then she refused to allow him to succeed.
“I ken my arrival is a surprise to ye, My Laird, but truly, I am quite skilled. And nae just with sewing—I can do fine needlework of many kinds, and I can knit, weave, even re-dye fabrics. I ken how to soften cloth without makin’ it less sturdy, and I?—”
“I already said I dinnae need any new clothing, lass.”
The words were gruff and harsh, like the snarl of a bear, but Valerie brushed aside his tone, determined to try and win his approval.
“That’s nae all I can do, Laird MacFinn. I can make ye better curtains, for one—light enough to be easily drawn, or even light enough to remain shut and still let in fresh air and light. I can also mend rugs, tapestries, sheets, blankets—doesnae matter if they’re woven, knit or quilted, I can patch them all—and I stitch fine enough that if I can get the colors in the fabrics to match, ye’ll never even ken that what I tend was mended at all. And if it is somethin’ like restitching a tapestry, I’m a fair hand at makin’ sure the colors suit and match the original image. I can even fade colors to blend them into older works. Beyond that, I?—”