Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) (12 page)

‘Would you want to
be taking in breakfast to the laird and Lady Helena…’

‘Is it to be her?’
Bridie asked.

‘So I’ve heard.
They’ve lots of land and their clans are strong. Her father’s been here…’ And
Mary understood the devastation on Bridie’s face, for her heart was broken
also. ‘Angus is to wed soon too.’ Mary’s voice was bleak. ‘He told me this
morning. I asked him if he was upset that he couldn’t consider me as his
bride.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He laughed.’

‘Oh Mary.’

 ‘He
laughed.’ Mary said again and Bridie went to hug her friend but again Mary
moved away. ‘You mind your fine dress.’

There was a rap of
the door and Bridie’s prayed it was
Mrs
Moffat, but
it was just Donalda.

‘Have you been
crying?’ Donalda frowned, seeing her new sister’s moist eyes.

‘No.’

‘Are you missing
Gracie?’ She asked and even if her voice was not gentle her words were very
kind. ‘Is it your first night apart?’

Bridie nodded and
opening the door further she let Donalda in.

‘I’m sure she’s
fine.’ Donalda said. ‘Is it strange to be back?’

‘It is.’ Bridie
admitted. ‘And I’m nervous of making a fool of myself tonight.’

‘
Och
!’ So harsh was her voice that for a second Bridie
thought Donalda was waving her fears away. ‘You don’t know what nervous is
– I’m always making a fool of myself. You should hear the other ladies
having a laugh at me and I’m petrified to dance with Laird McClelland, I know
he’s only doing it to be polite.’
Donalda’s
eyes
filled with tears. ‘I hate these balls. I hate that I’m never chosen.’

And she couldn’t
give Mary a cuddle but she gave Donalda one and then Bridie sat on the bed with
her sister and for the first time the two women spoke properly. ‘May’s always
telling me to keep my voice down,’ Donalda explained. ‘And that I take too much
food.’ And Bridie found out that even if you’d been raised as one, it was hard
being a lady at times. ‘She’s always telling me that I laugh too loud, that’s
it not pleasing for a man’s ears…’

‘I’ve never heard
you laugh.’ Bridie said and then thought for a moment. ‘Maybe you just need a
laird that’s a bit hard of hearing.’ And
realising
that perhaps her honesty was not so welcome amongst the
Glenbarachs
she went to
apologise
, except Donalda was laughing
and for the first time Bridie heard her. It was as if the bagpipes were in
attack and about to settle into playing state but not quite there yet and all
Bridie could do was laugh with her. ‘You’ll be fine tonight.’ Bridie said as
they wiped their tears and May came to fetch Donalda to prepare. ‘Laird
Alasdair is a nice man.’

He was.

Alone for a
moment, back in McClelland, Bridie looked out and across the hills, could hear
the
chi
chi
churee
call of the snow buntings and they were back for the coming winter.

She’d survived the
last winter, Bridie
realised
.

And would survive
the next – she’d make sure of it.

No matter how
awful tonight, she’d made it through the bleakest of times. She thought of her
mother, searching the glens and the loch, running through the mist, still
searching perhaps.

‘You can rest now
Ma,’ Bridie said.

For her daughter
was safe and well.

Bridie looked to
the land that she loved and it was time to move on, to put grief, pain and fear
forever aside, and look at her life with love. She had so very much to be happy
about - a daughter she loved, a family now too and she was a lady. But far more
than that she had her time with the laird, a night in his arms, and forever she
would remember it.

She just had to
get through tonight.

A maid brought
with them from
Glenbarach
sorted her make up and hair
and then the door knocked and it was Donalda and May.

‘You look
beautiful,’ Bridie said to Donalda, for her dress was lovely, even if it did
not much for her figure and her heavy hair was wrapped in a smooth coil but the
poor thing was clearly nervous.

‘Time for your
dress, Bridie.’

‘Why do we all
wear white?’ Bridie asked.

‘So the McClelland
plaid will stand out.’ May said as she unwrapped a sheet. ‘The bride will wear
have a lovely
coloured
gown on her wedding day, but
for tonight it’s white.’

‘Which is why I’ve
never been chosen,’ Donalda said.

Yes, she had a
point, for white was not the most flattering of
colours
with the palest of skins and Bridie slipped hers on still way more used to
harsh linen than the feel of pure European silk sliding over her skin.

‘It’s like being
under a waterfall,’ Bridie sighed as it slivered down, and then another layer
was added and the maid tightened the white velvet bodice at the front and, for
the first time ever, Bridie was brought a looking glass.

She’d only seen
herself a couple of times – once she’d picked up Lady McClelland’s
looking glass but
Mrs
Moffat had told her to put it
down and to not touch the dead’s things and she’d seen her reflection in the
loch of course, but she did not
recognise
it now.

Her hair fell long
and gleaming but it had been braided throughout too, and the once knotty curls
were sleek and rounded and her eyes seemed huge, her lips did too, for they
were painted.

‘If I looked like
you,’ Donalda said as they waited for Peter. ‘I wouldn’t be nervous.’

‘If you danced
like Bridie,’ May said. ‘You’d be sobbing in your bed.’ She looked to her two
nieces, two sisters, both with the same eyes, the same
colouring
,
both similar, yet different and she was fond of them both.

Worried for them
too.

And the longer
they waited for Peter, the more nervous May got and the more cutting she was
as, over and over, she gave her instructions.

‘Bridie, you’re to
say as little as possible tonight. If the Laird asks a question, you’re to just
give one-word answers. Donalda,’ May said. ‘You’re to keep your voice down and
I
dinnae
want to hear you laughing.’ She stopped
delivering instructions for there was a maid at the door, finally telling them
it was time to go down. ‘Laird Peter is waiting to present both of you.’

She and Donalda
took Laird Peter’s arms and walked into the Grand Room that Bridie herself had
helped to prepare for this night.
It was lit now by the huge
white candles she had so willingly lifted
and there were flowers -
thistles and heather just as
Mrs
Moffat had
described. There were also small posies of forget-me-knots dotted all around
the room and Bridie swallowed down threatening tears, for never would she forget.

And nor would the
Laird.

Alasdair stood in
his chambers and stared out to the night. Dressed in McClelland tartan, for
once clean-shaven his hair was brushed back and gleaming.

He could hear the
music and the pipes preparing and it was time to choose his bride.

He walked down the
castle steps, past the lanterns and portraits and stepped into the Grand Room
and the people bowed and curtsied as he entered.

His eyes did not
seek out Bridie, for he had much he must concentrate and get through tonight.

‘Lady Catherine of
Donoch
.’ The Laird bowed as she curtsied and he took
her hand and from the corer of his eye he could see a blaze of red hair that
belonged entwined in his fingers. He kept his gaze ahead, focused instead on
the lady beside him and the dance ahead, for the reels were long and
complicated and it was not Lady Catherine’s fault that he did not want to
dance.

And so he was kind
to her.

They crossed hands
and swooped down the line and under the swords to the claps and cheers as lady
after lady danced into his arms and he danced too with Lady Helena and her
company was pleasant and she was light on her feet, yet his heart ached for
Bridie, or Bridgette as she was now to be called.

For Bridie it was
agony, the longest night of her life.

Not once did he
look in her direction. She watched him dance and the usually stern Laird was
tonight at his charming best, for he smiled as he danced in turn with each
lady. Bridie tried to keep her head held high, but it was hard to, especially
as whispers reached her ears.

 ‘She’s so
common, did you see the way she lifted her skirt…’ Lady Helena was Bridie’s
harshest critic. ‘Clearly he’s putting dancing with her off.’

‘Don’t listen to
them.’ Donalda said.

‘I thought ladies
were ladies.’  Bridie said.

‘
Och
no.’ Donalda said. ‘You wait and hear what they say
when it’s my turn to dance.’

It was agony. She
could hear the harp and the pipes and was struggling not to cry. Worse, the
Laird was walking towards her and still not even gracing Bridie with a glance.
He bowed to Lady Donalda and she was the next to dance.

Yes, Lady Helena
was savage.

Bridie was tempted
to take her creamy throat beneath her fingers and silence her as unkind words
were said, but May told her to sit up straight and keep looking ahead.

‘A lady never shows
emotion.’ May warned as Bridie’s lips snarled, but then softened as she watched
for the Laird made Donalda blush and smile, just as he did with each lady he
danced with.

He just did not
dance with Bridie.

In truth the Laird
was worried for her. The dances were intricate, and learned through childhood
and so he was waiting for a
more simple
tune, a reel
where he could hold her and finally there was one.

 ‘Lady
Bridgette of
Glenbarach
…’

For the first time
he allowed himself the luxury of properly looking at her and Bridie looked
stunning, there were jewels in her ears and at her throat, there was rouge on
her lips and cheeks and her huge green eyes could not meet his.

‘Good evening,
Laird.’ Bridie said and curtsied, wishing that she was greeting him in the
morn, wishing she was walking into his room carrying a tray and not about to
dance with Laird and everyone watching.

Everyone, for even
Mary and
Mrs
Moffat were peeking in.

 She felt his
hand on her waist and she twirled, and so many times she tripped and he
steadied her

‘You’re doing
fine.’ He was incredibly patient.

‘I’m not,’ Bridie
said to his ear as she passed him.

‘Cross your hands
at the wrist and I’ll take them.’

He did everything
he could to help her, but there was no such thing as a lady in a week and
Bridie knew it. They thundered through the swords and she went to turn to the
left, but instead she turned to the right and she was facing him again and it
was a whole new dance, for the Laird took her back through the swords to make
up for her mistake. She felt his strong hands closed around hers and heart
started to thump as the music took to her soul and she was back in the lairds
skilled hands, for she was no longer nervous, except it was ending, the music
was fading and his duty dance was done.

‘How are things…’
he asked as he escorted her back to her Aunt.

‘Grand.’ She said
but one word but then turned to him, turned to the man she had loved, even when
she hadn’t known that she did and Bridie could not stay silent as instructed.
‘I’ve been having lessons on how to walk, how to talk, how to stand, how to
sit.’

‘It shows.’

And then she met
his eyes for the first time that night and, for just a tiny slice of time, it
was as if they were lovers again. ‘Though I couldn’t sit down for a full two
days, after the
skelping
you gave me…’

Always she made
him smile and it was his first genuine one of the night and there was a swallow
in his throat as he remembered that morn, remembered her passionate in his
arms.

‘Are you happy,
Bridie?’ The Laird asked and it would be so easy to cry and say no, to beg to
come home, but she was a strong Scottish lassie and instead she smiled.

‘I’m determined to
be, Laird and I want you to be too.’

As
Bridie thanked him for the dance she meant every word

And she sat and
watched as he spoke with lairds and danced with far more suitable ladies and
though she wished it would soon be over, that the torture would soon end, she
knew she could survive it.

‘If you were the
most graceful here it could still never happen.’ May’s attempts to be kind
twisted the knife. ‘Your brother would never agree and anyway, the laird would
not want to offend the other lairds…’

‘I know that.’

She did. These
alliances were too important to be forged from the heart and when the room
stood, so to did she and she watched as he picked up the sash, the one he had
caught her dancing with on the night of her first kiss and he walked towards
Lady Helena who stood just to her side and she closed her eyes at the agony.