Page 11 of The Highlander’s Hunted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #2)

11

“ H old yer arms out for me,” Katie instructed, unspooling a length of rough twine.

Isla did as she asked, resembling a scarecrow in the fields. “When I was a lassie, I’d stand out on the moors like this in a storm, the wind gustin’ somethin’ fierce, hopin’ I might finally be able to fly.”

Katie chuckled as she measured the length of Isla’s arms, from the elbow to the wrist. Nipping the spot on the twine that would give her the right measurement, she took it over to her measuring stick and then noted down the number before moving on to the other arm.

“Did ye ever manage it?” she asked, altogether more comfortable now that she was in the middle of familiar work.

“Once,” Isla replied with a mischievous smile. “Alas, I was up a tree at the time, and though I think I flew, there’s some discrepancy as to whether fallin’ can be counted as flyin’. Broke me arm, and me maither was horrified, worryin’ that I’d never find a husband with me arm all crooked. It straightened out in the end. Only bothers me in the winter sometimes.”

Measuring from elbow to wrist, Katie’s gift for sewing began to unfurl in her mind, conjuring images of gowns and dresses and bodices and shifts that would suit the older woman perfectly.

Isla certainly had the figure to complement anything, and Katie told her as much.

The old woman burst out laughing, clutching a hand to her chest. “Och, dinnae flatter me, or me head will grow so big I willnae be able to fit it through the neck of whatever ye make for me! I’m an ancient thing, lassie. Decrepit as a husk.” There was a twinkle in her eyes. “But when I was young—mercy, I wish I’d kenned then what a lovely creature I was.”

“Ye’re still lovely,” Katie insisted, adding more measurements to her list.

She couldn’t read and could only write a handful of things, but Mrs. Shanley had taught her to understand numbers—a blessing that had come in handy for more than making dresses. When the sellers at the market tried to trick her, she always knew, and she took some satisfaction in watching them turn as red as raspberries when they were scolded for it.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Isla replied with a sigh. “But take me words as a warnin’, lassie. Ken how lovely ye are while ye’re young and bask in yer beauty. Stare at yer reflection for as long as ye like, and dinnae settle for a husband who doesnae worship ye.”

Katie smiled as she moved on to Isla’s waist and bust, though it faded as a different vision of loveliness popped into her head. A woman who certainly knew how beautiful she was and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Indeed, a woman who had probably gone too far the other way.

“That maid was extraordinarily pretty,” Katie remarked, crouching down to measure Isla’s legs. The ideal defense, so that the old woman wouldn’t see the blush on her cheeks.

“Which maid, dear? I ken ye’re new to castles, but we have an abundance of servants,” Isla replied in good humor. “ Most of them arenae so hard on the eyes.”

Remeasuring hip to ankle, though she’d already noted the number in her mind, Katie took a deep breath. “The maid who served the Laird at breakfast. The beautiful one with the dark hair.”

The one ye said needed a crust of bread to stuff in her mouth, she neglected to add.

“Rhona?” Isla replied, putting a name to that supremely pretty face. “Och, if she wasnae so efficient, she’d have been hoofed out a long time ago. But there’s nay one else who gets chambers cleaned, floors scrubbed, and meals served as fast. She bakes, too, on occasion, and ye’ve never tasted aught more heavenly than her tarts and bannocks.”

I can bake a tart. Badly. But I can.

Katie shook off the silly thought, chiding herself inwardly. What business was it of hers who Hector took to his bed of a night? Yes, he had made her feel things she couldn’t have imagined in her most vivid dreams, but so what? They weren’t beholden to each other… not in that sense, anyway.

“I think a ruby color would become ye well. A dark green for an evening gown, maybe a dark blue, too,” she said, pondering. “I dinnae ken what fabrics ye can get, but I can sew almost anythin’.”

Isla beamed, nodding. “I’d like a gown in the clan tartan, too, if that wouldnae be too much trouble?”

“Nae at all,” Katie assured her, adding the last measurements to her list. “Is she married?”

“Who, dear?”

“Rhona.”

Isla let out a low whistle. “Och, now there’s a story.” She padded over to a nearby chair and sat down, as though it was going to be a long tale and she was going to tell every tiny detail. “She was married to the blacksmith. Ye’ve never seen a bonnier pair, always gettin’ scolded for kissin’ and the like. Happy as a husband and wife can be.”

“What happened?” Katie asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“He died, poor thing. An affliction of the lungs. Cruel, really. Rhona used to brag about how lucky she was to be wed to a man who didnae have to go off to war, only to have him be taken away regardless,” Isla replied, shaking her head. “I suppose she misses the company, else she wouldnae act the way she does. Trouble is, with a reputation like hers, nay one is inclined to marry her, so she’s stuck in somethin’ of a cycle.”

Wandering over to a stack of fabrics that a different maid had brought up to the chambers at Isla’s behest, Katie made a show of rifling through it, rubbing each material between her thumb and forefinger. There were some silks and satins in the pile, and the fact surprised her. She’d assumed that Hector would be something of a miser.

“How long has she been a maid at the castle?” she asked.

“Oh, hard to say. A long while.”

Katie nodded. “She must be highly regarded by the Laird if she serves his table.”

A stifled laugh pulled her attention back to the old woman.

Katie’s face burned with embarrassment that she couldn’t hope to hide. That didn’t stop her from trying, however, as she pretended to scratch an itch on both cheeks.

“Forgive me, lassie,” Isla crowed, evidently noticing the redness on her cheeks. “I’m nae laughin’ at ye in a mean-spirited fashion. It’s just that… well, lassie, ye’re nae subtle. I hope ye didnae think ye were.”

Katie blinked. “Subtle? I dinnae ken what ye mean.”

“Come now, lassie. If ye’re to be me companion for three months, ye cannae start lyin’ to me.” Isla grinned, resting her chin on her hand. “Ye have an honest face, and that’s a rare and fine thing, but it does mean ye’re terrible at bein’ sly. But it’s nae a bad thing for a lass to feel some jealousy. Many would call it motivation.”

Mortified and shocked at once, Katie gathered up an armful of the fabrics, holding them high enough to conceal at least some of her face, and hurried across the room. She set them down on a table beside Isla but kept her back to the wise, old lady.

“Motivation for what, exactly?” she murmured, unable to suppress her curiosity.

“To win the man ye want,” Isla replied in a dramatic voice, as if it should have been obvious. “I’m nae sayin’ ye should fight anyone, but if there’s a lad ye have yer eye on, ye ought to strike first. Ye’d ensnare him, too, with a beauty like yers. It’s a rare kind, nae the obvious kind where ye put yer whole orchard on show.”

Fleetingly, Katie glanced at the leaded windows and wondered how fast she would have to run at them to smash through and fall blissfully to her death, splattering on the ground below, avoiding this conversation forevermore.

Steeling herself, she shook her head. “Me questions were innocent, I assure ye. I have nay cause to motivate meself in that regard. I’m just a village seamstress. When I return, maybe I’ll find meself a husband, but they’d all have to forget me last name first.”

“So, there isnae someone who makes yer heart beat faster?” Isla pressed, sounding a touch disappointed.

“Nay,” Katie replied staunchly.

There had been boys in the village who had taken a fancy to her when she was younger. But those were just the brief infatuations of youth, fragile and fleeting as a moth’s wings. And she never felt the same. Her heart hadn’t pounded that way for years.

Until recently…

She cursed the thought for creeping in, imagining herself leaping upon it to try and shove it back down into the depths of her mind, where it belonged.

Besides, the way her heart had thundered for Hector was not at all the way it had thudded for those idiotic village boys. Never in her life had her heart threatened to burst out of her chest until the moment she had been pressed against an oak tree, kissed with dizzying hunger, and touched in a way she hadn’t been able to forget.

More than once, she’d found herself regretting that she’d stopped him just as the pleasure was rising to unknown peaks.

Isla clicked her tongue. “Honestly, it astonishes me that ye’re nae married already. I’m nae bein’ disingenuous when I say ye’re uncommonly beautiful.” She sighed deeply. “What are those lads at yer village playin’ at, nae snatchin’ ye up and marryin’ ye as quickly as possible?”

“I was asked, but I wasnae interested,” Katie admitted. “I had too many other things to do.”

The man in question was one of only two people who still deigned to speak to her, and he had made it clear that he didn’t mind her cursed association. If anything, her being spurned by the village had only made him ask more often.

She’d considered it, and maybe one day she’d have to accept, but at least she had a three-month respite from having to make up her mind.

And what’s currently in me head isnae helpin’.

Between beginning preparations for Isla’s new collection of clothes, the arrival of Bonnie and Pipkin, and the worrisome prospect of Lyall not being brought to the castle, she hadn’t had the time to dwell on Hector too much. Maybe that was the key—to keep as busy as possible.

“There’s nay tartan here,” she blurted out, an idea coming to her mind. “I suspect I’ll have to go and buy some for ye, and while I’m there, I can find some others who might be nice. It willnae take me long, I can just?—”

“A splendid idea!” Isla chirped, clapping her hands. “Me grandson can take ye.”

Before Katie could protest, suggesting that any old guard would do as an escort, a deep voice filled the room. “Take her where, exactly?”