Page 20 of The Story of his Highland Bride
Eloise reached out to touch the pretty dress, feeling like she ought to be wearing white gloves in an atmosphere-controlled room. “Beautify me,” she said decisively. “Even if Jacksondoesn’t want to be polite dinner company, I know I’ll have a good time with his grandmother.”
As the women stood, and Eloise began the intricate process of undressing and redressing, she felt the urge to ask, “But why is he always grumpy at this time of year?”
“It’s when his maither and faither passed,” Kaitlyn replied, slipping the dinner gown over Eloise’s head.
Eloise emerged through the deep neckline, pushing her arms down through the billowing sleeves. “How?”
“They were journeyin’ to some his uncle’s castle in the north to celebrate the solstice in secret, travelin’ by carriage,” Kaitlyn explained, as she fastened a fetching belt of woven gold and green silks around Eloise’s waist. “It was rainin’ hard, and the driver was goin’ too swift up a mountain pass. The carriage tumbled off the edge of a small cliff, killin’ his maither and faither. Nay one kens how he survived, but his uncle found him with his faither’s arms wrapped around him. His faither saved his life, at the cost of his own.”
Eloise gaped toward the window, where the sun was just setting below the horizon. She could see the tragedy vividly in her mind, could almost hear the panicked whinny of the horses and the thunder of the rain coming down. Jackson must’ve been terrified, plummeting over the edge of a cliff with his parents, not knowing if they’d live. Then, to discover that he was the only survivor—it broke her heart.
“How old was he?”
Kaitlyn set a thin, gold circlet upon Eloise’s head, threading hair around it to keep it in place. “Couldn’ae have been older than three-and-ten. His uncle stayed for a while, but then he had to go back and tend to his own clan. Since then, it has just been him and his grandmaither. Ye wouldn’ae believe how many cousins and greedy lads came out of the woodwork, tryin’ to seize this clan and title for themselves, but His Lairdship held on tight and hasnae let go.”
As the maid continued to dress her, adding embellishments and adornments, Eloise allowed herself to think about her ride through the forest with Jackson. She’d known that they were the same, then. She’d known that they shared a very similar kind of broken heart, unconnected to her romantically shattered heart. Now, she realized they had even more in common—both had lost their parents in the mountains, both had lost their parents at the same time; the only difference was, she’d been older. Whether that made it better or worse, she wasn’t sure.
“That’s ye done, El,” Kaitlyn said proudly, a short while later. “I must admit, it’s so much easier to dress ye when I daenae have to worry about fastenin’ stays.”
Eloise smiled. “I’m tempted to try them, but I’d also like to be able to breathe.”
She walked over to her bag, which now held the most precious belongings she possessed—spare underwear, deodorant, perfume, and a few items of makeup that made her feel more athome in this faraway place. Sitting down, she sifted through the bag, gasping as she found a pen, buried at the bottom among train tickets and receipts. It was like a gift from the heavens, after all of her struggles with quills and inkpots.
“What’s that?” Kaitlyn came to peer over her shoulder, as Eloise took out her wallet.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Eloise hastily shoved the item back into her bag and took out the tiny bag of makeup that she always carried, instead.
Eloise flipped open a compact and began to dab away some of the redness and dark circles from her skin, before moving on to eyeshadow and mascara. She slicked a sheen of darker bronze over her eyelids, and combed some black into her eyelashes, to highlight them. That done, she tapped on a little blush and ended with a swipe of berry-red lipstick that, while a bit too vampy for her tastes, was perfect for the dress she wore.
“Whatisall of that?” Kaitlyn gasped, serving Eloise with a stark reminder that she’d just done something very anachronistic without realizing.
“It’s… uh… like paint for your face,” she explained clumsily. “On the Isle of Man, we just use it for special occasions.”
Kaitlyn gave Eloise a hard look. “Ye’re nae from the Isle of Man, are ye?”
“No, but… I can’t go through it all again now. When I get back from dinner, I’ll tell you everything and, with any luck, you might be the first person who believes me,” Eloise said hopefully, taking hold of Kaitlyn’s hands and giving them a squeeze. “Don’t be afraid of me, please. I’m not scary, I’m not dangerous, I’m just… well, I’ll explain later.”
To her relief, Kaitlyn nodded and squeezed her hands in return. “I’ll look forward to hearin’ it all, and daenae worry—it takes a lot to scare me.” She cracked a smile. “Her Ladyship’s wrath is one thing that does, so we ought to get ye away to the Feastin’ Hall before steam starts comin’ out of her ears.”
The dinner was an even more enjoyable affair than Eloise could’ve imagined, though not because of Jackson. Lorraine had also invited Lennox to dine, and though he’d seemed wary of Eloise at first, a few cups of spiced wine had turned him into the nominated jester for the evening.
“Och, after that, I never drank and rode me horse again!” Lennox cried out the punchline to a long-winded tale about too much ale and a night-time ride to the loch. “There I was, just danglin’ in a tree, fast asleep. Me stomach was bruised for weeks after!”
Lorraine collapsed in a fit of giggles, as Eloise wiped away the amused tears that spilled down her cheeks. She’d had a few too many cups of spiced wine as well, but she’d figured there was no harm in properly letting her hair down. What was the worst thatcould happen—Jackson would lock her in her room again? All the more reason to enjoy the night to its fullest.
“Ye’re lucky it dinnae harm yer reputation as a Man-at-Arms, bein’ found in such a position,” Jackson said drily, bringing the mood down.
Lennox waved the remark away. “I’d say it showed the men that their Man-at-Arms can endure anythin’, if he can sleep bent over a branch all night and walk it off in the mornin’.” He raised his cup excitedly. “Actually, I’ve got a couple of stories about ye that are nae too dissimilar. Shall I tell them the one about the sheep gettin’ out?”
“Ye’ll do nay such thing,” Jackson shot back.
Lennox grinned. “What about the oil barrels?”
“Say a word, and ye’ll spend the night hung over a branch again.” Jackson flashed a warning glare at Lennox, who sat back in his chair, defeated.
“I promise ye, His Lairdship has some good stories and a fine character, hidden behind the black clouds he carries around,” Lennox said, looking at Eloise with a reassuring smile. “He’s nae always so grim.”
Lorraine nodded. “When he was a bairn, he’d get himself into all sorts of scrapes and troubles. I remember him stealin’ the honey jar from the kitchens and takin’ it outside in the middleof summer. Sat there under a tree, scoopin’ out handfuls until he was covered in it. That’s when the flies and wasps came, and I could hear him shriekin’ from the castle. I ran out to see what was the matter, and I see this wee lad, stripped of all his clothes, bein’ chased by a swarm of wasps, smothered in honey!”
