Page 55 of The Laird’s Dangerous Prize (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

F illed with resolve, Agnes distracted herself by taking a tour of the room.

She noticed a few necessities had been left on the vanity and guessed her mother was responsible.

There was a comb and hairbrush, some face powder, a pot of rouge, a small vial of scent, and some other useful things.

Unfortunately, apart from the contents of the bag Saoirse had rescued from the carriage, she had nothing else with her.

The bulk of her things were coming separately and would arrive in the next day. Or so, she hoped.

In the meantime, she realized she only had what she had left behind five years ago to wear.

She opened the wardrobe and leafed through the few gowns still hanging there.

They were all out of fashion, but she eventually selected a burgundy-coloured gown she had thought too grand to take with her to France.

“It will dae,” she murmured, taking it out and hanging it on the door.

“Lace me up, would ye, Saoirse, please,” she said half an hour later, entering the room next door, with the back of her dress gaping.

“I cannae dae it by mesel’.” She hurried over to her maid, starting when the clock on the mantel chimed seven.

“Ach, God, I’m gonnae be late fer the dinner.

Me faither will be furious. That’s all I need,” she said, feeling under pressure.

Saoirse had been sitting next to Roisin’s bed when she came in, but she got up at once and came over to help.

“Och, she’s already asleep, I see,” Agnes said, glad to see her daughter was now sleeping peacefully.

“Aye, the poor wee mite was more tired than she wanted tae admit, but as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light,” the maid said with a smile, taking hold of corset strings.

“D’ye remember daein’ this before ye left fer France?

” she asked as Agnes leaned against the bed post, while she pulled the laces of the corset tight and laced her in.

“Aye, I dae, and that’s still too tight!” Agnes exclaimed breathlessly before Saoirse chuckled and let it out a little. “Just toyin’ with ye,” she said.

Once the gown was fastened, Agnes did a twirl and said, “Thank ye. Now, how dae I look?”

“Well, if we were back in France, I’d say that gown is rather old-fashioned,” Saoirse replied. “But since we’re in Scotland, where ’tis still the height of fashion, I’ll say ye look stunnin’, me lady.”

Agnes could not help laughing at the comment.

“Now that’s a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.

” She glanced at the clock to check the time and let out a little gasp.

“Ach, I must hurry. I’ll already be in Faither’s bad books fer bein’ late as it is.

Shall I send a servant up fer ye, in case ye want tae get somethin’ tae eat or a drink while I’m gone?

” she asked Saoirse hurriedly as she rushed to the door.

“Nay, I’ll be fine, me lady. I’m tired mesel’. Now Rosin’s settled, I’ll probably have nap. Wake me when ye get back though if ye would.”

“Of course.” Agnes paused by the door, looking back at her faithful friend with gratitude. “Thank ye again, Saoirse. I dinnae ken what we’d dae without ye.”

“Ach, wheesht, off ye go and enjoy yer supper, me lady,” Saoirse told her, waving her away with a modest smile.

She went the back way to the great hall and came out directly behind the laird’s table, not wishing to run the gauntlet of walking up the central aisle through the tables, where the majority of the guests were already seated when she arrived ten minutes late.

Unfortunately, her lateness made her the centre of attention among the guests at her father’s table, a mixture of his advisors and their wives and families, as well as friends and allies.

It seemed they all wanted to greet her and were curious to know where she had been and what she had been doing for the previous five years.

Her reply to their enquiries was always the same.

“After I recovered from me illness, I stayed in France, lookin’ after me Aunt Morag.

She’s old now, and she needs a bit of help and companionship.

She misses Scotland, but she says she’s too old tae make the journey home now, so ’twas easier fer me tae go there and stay with her. ”

It was not entirely a lie, and everyone seemed to accept it. However, she was shocked to hear that some of them believed her to be dead.

“Little Sister, ’tis good tae have ye back!”

Agnes wheeled around at the sound of her brother’s voice. “Duncan! Ye’re safe! Och, thank goodness.” He opened his arms, and she threw herself into them, all her worries fading away in her delight at being reunited with her beloved brother.

“Oof! Hold on there, let me at least breathe before ye break me spine, will ye?” Duncan pretended to complain as she squeezed him with all her might. Laughingly, he lifted her off her feet in a bear hug before finally breaking their embrace. He held her hands in his as he scrutinized her face.

“My, ye look bonny. Are ye well? Is Roisin all right? Nae sign of that sickness poor old Aunt Morag has come down with?” he asked, a flash of worry in his eyes.

“Nay, I’m glad tae say, we’re both very well,” Agnes replied, unable to stop smiling as she in turn looked him over, relieved to see he had not a scratch upon him.

“I think we left France just before it could really take hold ood,” she explained.

“Ye look well too. I was fearful fer ye when I saw ye fightin’ with that brigand on the road. ”

“Och. He put up a bit of a fight, I admit, but I sent him tae meet his maker soon enough,” he told her, pulling her in for another hug.

“Did ye find anymore brigands in the woods?” she asked when they finally broke apart.

“Nay, thankfully. I hate tae think what ye must have gone through. It must have been terrifyin’. I was so worried fer ye and the wee lass. She must have been so scared.”

“Aye, she was the poor wee angel.” She briefly explained what had happened, and how she had managed to conceal Roisin beneath her cloak while fightin’ the attacker off.

“Ye’re a brave woman, Sister. I’m proud of ye. Ye fought with more courage than many a man I’ve kent and kept her safe. Even so, thank God me and Conrad happened on ye, eh?”

“Aye, thank God,” she agreed, knowing she owed Conrad her life and Roisin’s too but wishing it had been Duncan who had saved them all the same.

Not wanting to think about the problem Conrad’s presence posed just then, she changed the subject.

“What about ye? Maither says ye’ve been away fightin’ since ye came back from visitin’ me in France. Is that right?”

“Aye, but we won, and the war’s over now fer good, I hope. ’Tis certainly grand tae come home and find ye here with the wee yin. I didnae think I’d be seein’ ye fer a while. How’s Auntie Morag though? D’ye think she’ll pull through?”

“I’m nae sure. Ye ken she’s gettin’ on in years and isnae as strong as she used tae be.

’Tis a devastatin’ sickness, tae be sure, but there are plenty who recover, and she’s bein’ well cared fer.

We must hope and pray she’ll be one of them.

The plan is fer us tae go back tae France when the sickness is over. ”

His face fell a little. “Aye, I ken. ’Tis a damned shame. Ye should be here at home. If I had me way, ye would be, and Roisin would be growin’ up a Scots lass instead of a French miss.”

“Aye, but maybe ’tis better this way. It saves face fer Maither and Faither, and that’s important tae them,” she said, not mentioning the other more important reason why she preferred to live in France.

Saoirse was the only one who knew that, and even though she hated to keep things from Duncan, she knew it was for the best. Again, she steered the subject away from herself.

Duncan glanced over her shoulder and gave a small grimace. “Faither is lookin’ this way, and he’s nae lookin’ very happy,” he warned.

Agnes let out a sigh of resignation. “Aye, nae doubt he’s annoyed with me fer bein’ a wee bit late,” she said. “I suppose I’d better go and speak tae him and apologize. I admit, I’m nae lookin’ forward tae it. Wish me luck, Braither.”

“Aye, of course. I’m gonnae make sure tae enjoy me party, and I want ye tae have a nice time as well.”

The siblings hugged once more. Duncan went off to socialize, while Agnes steeled herself and went to greet their father.

James MacDonald was a tall, imposing man. Still strong despite his fifty-five years, his silver-streaked black hair and lined face spoke of years of stern leadership as Laird of Clan MacDonald.

Determined not to be intimidated, Agnes bobbed a respectful curtsey as she faced him. “Good evenin’, Faither.”

He glowered at her. His hard, steely blue eyes, always sharp and watchful, bored into her. “Ye’re late, Daughter,” he said accusingly, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m sorry, Faither. It couldnae be helped.

” She explained about the brigands and was surprised to see what might have been a flicker of concern in his eyes.

But it was so fleeting, she could not be sure.

She did not let herself imagine for a moment she was anything but an embarrassing disgrace in his eyes, but she refused to be cowed and insisted on completing her explanation.

“Maither told me about the celebration when I got here, but I didnae have much time tae get ready.”

He grunted and said grudgingly, “Well, now ye’ve graced us with yer presence, ye’d better sit down.” He nodded stiffly at the vacant chair next to her mother.

“Aye, Faither,” she replied, going to sit down, glad to have gotten the initial meeting out of the way. But her relief was short-lived when she realized who was seated next to her.

Conrad!