“It would make me very happy to see ya in it,” he told her as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
“Would ya wear it for me, lass?”
His voice was as smooth as the silk dress he wanted her to wear.
“I believe it would also make the chief’s daughter happy as well.”
She could not think with him this close.
What had he said?
“Chief’s daughter?” She hadn’t a clue what he spoke of.
“Bree.
She be the chief’s daughter,” he told her.
“She’s the chief’s daughter?” Aishlinn repeated before it finally sunk in.
“Bree is the chief’s daughter?” She was shocked to hear it. Never in the past days had Bree mentioned who her father was.
“Aye, that she is.” He had not moved and his smile had grown brighter. He put his hand on the wall over her head as he stared down at her.
She wanted to crawl away.
As far as Aishlinn could tell, the chief and his family were the equivalent of English royalty! And she had allowed the chief’s daughter to see her unclothed and had even allowed her to wash her hair, to feed her and help her to the privy! Aishlinn felt humiliated and embarrassed.
“What be the matter, lass?” Duncan asked, still holding that wry smile upon those full lips.
“She helped me to bathe!” His blank stare told her he did not comprehend the significance of the matter.
“She’s the chief’s daughter and she helped
me
to bathe!
She combed my hair! She brought me meals! I should be the one tending to
her
!”
She felt like such a fool.
“And if she be the chief’s daughter and your sister, that makes you the chief’s son!”
“Aye, it does.
He be my foster father.
I’m one among many the man has helped to raise.”
Aishlinn was horrified and embarrassed. She had nearly kissed the chief’s son! Foster or not, it would have been a most terrible temptation to succumb to.
Duncan laughed at her.
“Lass, we hold no pretenses here like the English do!” he said.
“Why, Isobel, the chief’s
wife,”
he said with mock horror in his voice, “actually helps to deliver bairns!”
Aishlinn wanted very much at that moment to kick him square in his knee.
She did not like being mocked any more than she liked being laughed at.
“It isn’t funny, Duncan McEwan!”
It took several moments before he stopped laughing.
“I am sorry, lass.
But ya have to understand.
None of us here sits atop high horses like the English do and pretend we be better than any one else.
We leave those notions to the English.” His eyes seemed to twinkle even brighter.
“Lass,” he said lowering his voice and moving in close to her again. “Ya be no’ plain.
And it truly would bring me great pleasure to see ya in the purple gown.”
He inched closer, his lips nearly touching hers.
Aishlinn felt herself going weak in the knees again. “Would ya please wear it? For me?” he whispered.
Every part of her wanted to say ‘
yes, I’ll wear it for you, but only if you kiss me
.’
She did not have the nerve to say it aloud.
“I’ll wear it,” she whispered, wishing she could take it back the moment the words passed over her lips.
“But only to not insult Bree,” she swallowed hard again.
“The chief’s daughter.”
“For the chief’s daughter then,” he said and after what seemed like an eternity he straightened himself and backed away.
Aishlinn let out a sigh of relief.
Duncan laid the dress back upon the bed.
He smiled as he turned to look at her. “And ya no’ be plain, lass,” he said before he left the room.
She stood on quivering knees and her heart that felt as though it would leap from her chest and go bouncing out of the room to follow him.
She tried to convince herself that she was coming down with some illness, the fevers perhaps.
There was no other explanation for these odd feelings and sensations she was beginning to have, at least none that she felt brave enough to admit to.
******
It was quite difficult to speak with Bree after learning of her stature and standing among the clan.
Aishlinn felt overwhelmingly uneasy with allowing the chief’s daughter to braid her hair or to assist with getting into the purple gown.
And Aishlinn felt close to fainting when the girl put magnificent slippers upon her feet!
Bree sensed that something was amiss.
It took some prodding but she was finally able to pry from Aishlinn exactly what was the matter.
“What silly notions ya have, lass!” Bree told her as she grabbed a mirror from the table and handed it to Aishlinn.
“I’ve told ya before that we hold no false pretenses here.
I have many friends but I find I can always use another!”
Aishlinn had been raised so differently from these people.
The more she learned the more out of place she felt.
She was also beginning to wonder if it was a mistake not to have fled to London.
At least there she knew what the rules were and how to behave.
In London, she’d not be forced to look a fool wearing such a fine gown and slippers.
No matter how they tried to convince her otherwise, she simply did not feel right or proper dressing in such a manner.
“Aishlinn,” Bree said taking her hand.
“I know ya were raised differently, with different ideas and notions and such.
But ye be
here
now.
We’re a good people, lass, and no one here would ever harm ye in any manner.”
Aishlinn knew that Bree and Duncan and the others meant no ill will towards her. They were merely being kind.
It was their way.
They couldn’t change that any more than Aishlinn could change the color of her eyes.
It certainly could not be said that Aishlinn was ungrateful. She had prayed her entire life for the comforts of a loving and kind family.
But now that it was being offered to her, free and clear with no strings attached, she found that she was frightened by it.
Bree had finished braiding Aishlinn’s hair as best she could and tied a fine deep purple ribbon around the ends.
She handed the mirror to Aishlinn and said, “Have a look lass. I think ya look beautiful.”
Over the past many days Aishlinn had learned that Bree was as unrelenting as she was good-natured.
Knowing it would do her no good to argue, she took in a deep breath and accepted the mirror. She was astonished to find the bruises nearly gone, save for the slight green and yellow around her eyes, and one mark left on her jaw.
Though the bruises may be gone, she still found it difficult to believe herself anything but plain.
Frustrated, she put the mirror back on the table.
Bree rolled her eyes, smiled and retrieved the mirror.
“Look
beyond
the bruises, lass. I’d not lie to ya.
Ya
really
are quite beautiful.” She held out the mirror with a look of dogged determination across her face.
Plain girls do not need a mirror to know they are plain.
Plainness needs no affirmation.
In an attempt to have Bree drop the subject all together, Aishlinn relented and took another look.
Doing something she’d never done before she studied her own face.
I suppose my jaw is average, as is my nose.
There be nothing special about them.
Perhaps her nose was not quite as big as her brothers had told her it was.
Still it was just a nose.
My lips. Maybe my lips are not too thin, nor are they too full, but they are still just plain lips
.
And my cheeks.
Perhaps they’d look better with a bit of pink pinched into them instead of the green blotches they currently held.
Perhaps I am not hideous,
she thought.
But I am definitely no beauty like Bree. Plain yes, but maybe not quite as hideous as my brothers had told me.
That was a thought she could live with.
There was a knock at her door and she embarrassedly put the mirror down. She assumed it was Duncan and she felt a momentary sensation of what could only be described as excitement.
Reminding herself to stop acting like a foolish twit, she pushed the feelings aside.
Bree cheerfully bid whomever it was to enter. A moment later the most beautiful woman Aishlinn had ever seen entered the room.
Her hair was so black that the candlelight cast streaks of blue to the braid that cascaded over her shoulder and landed at her narrow waist. Her slender neck held up the most exquisite and soft face. Her full pink lips sat under a perfectly proportioned nose and dark eyelashes surrounded beautiful dark green eyes.
She possessed the kind of beauty and grace that would make other women jealous and men daft for her. There was something quite familiar about her as if they had met before.
Aishlinn supposed the familiarity was because she looked so much like Bree.
“Mum!” Bree said before going to hug her.
As the woman held her daughter’s embrace her eyes fell upon Aishlinn.
For a fleeting moment the woman’s face held the oddest of expressions, one that made Aishlinn’s heart fall to her feet.
“Aishlinn! This is me mum, Isobel,” Bree said excitedly.
“Mum, this is the orphan we told ye of.”
Aishlinn quickly stood and curtsied the most elegant curtsey she could manage.
“My lady,” she said, averting her eyes to the floor as she had been taught to do.
The woman remained quiet. Aishlinn wondered if perhaps she was upset with her for wearing her daughter Bridget’s clothes or for taking up residence in her room. The longer Isobel remained quiet and staring the more uncomfortable Aishlinn became.
After several agonizingly long moments of silence Aishlinn began to wish she could shrink to the size of a mouse and scurry away. The longer they were silent the more her shoulders began to shrink with fear.
“Aishlinn,” Isobel whispered her name.
“Yes, my lady,” Aishlinn said as she felt her knees begin to quake.
“Bree, dear, please leave us,” Isobel said without taking her gaze from Aishlinn.
Bree looked rather confused but nodded her head slightly before leaving the room. Isobel came and sat upon the bed her eyes still glued to Aishlinn.
“Aishlinn dear, come,” she said as she patted the bed with her hand.
Aishlinn swallowed hard and found it quite difficult at the moment to will her feet to move.
Isobel patted the bed again.
“I won’t bite ye, I promise.”
Finally finding the nerve to move Aishlinn went and sat beside her.
Knowing it an insult to look royalty in the eye she kept her gaze firmly planted on the leg of the table in front of her.
Isobel let out a small sigh, “Aishlinn? Why do ya not look at me?”
Aishlinn continued to stare at the table leg.
“Twould be an insult to do so, my lady,” she whispered.