Page 26 of Marry the Highland Villain
“Then we’ll have to stop at her booth, see if she can tell ye aught about yer future—that’s if ye want to ken. But in the meantime, there are the cloth and clothing merchants.” Emily pointed at some of the shops. “And we can stop at the cobbler’s to get ye some new boots.”
Brigid blushed. She’d been taken from her home in her old walking shoes, and they were very old and worn. “I…”
“Trust me, our cobbler is very skilled,” Emily told her. “Ye’ll never want anyone else to make ye another pair of boots after ye’ve worn his wares.”
Brigid looked around. “Where shall we start?”
Emily smiled. “Och, ye wanted to speak to the bookseller, did ye nae? And ye wanted to see if he had tools for writin’ and drawing?”
“I did, but clothing is more important…” Brigid looked wistfully in the direction of the bookseller. Clothing might be more important, but books and journals were far more satisfying—at least to her. “And it takes longer, especially if we stop at the seamstress’s and give her my measurements.”
Emily laughed and dragged her toward the bookseller’s stall.
Together, Brigid and Emily browsed the wares. Brigid collected paper in various thicknesses, a fresh journal, ink in different colors, and a set of charcoal sticks and colors to be mixed with water or oils for painting.
The purchase was a fair-sized one, but Brigid still found herself tensing with trepidation as she approached the bookseller. For all that he was a stranger, she couldn’t help remembering the whispers that had followed her whenever she visited the market before.
“How much for this?”
“Three silvers, M’Lady.” The bookseller gave her a friendly smile that left her feeling as if she’d somehow stepped into a dream. “I can see ye’ve some interest in certain supplies. I’m back here every one to two seasons—shall I mark ye for an order on my next journey here, or are ye merely visitin’ Miss Emily?”
Brigid stared at him, still stunned.
It was Emily who rescued her, smiling brightly at the bookseller as she dropped a bag of herbs next to Brigid’s supplies. “Och, mark her down as a regular order, Marcus, for she lives at the castle now.”
“As ye will, Miss Emily.”
The bookseller wrapped both of their orders. Brigid paid for her supplies, then followed Emily into the street and down toward the nearest cloth sellers, still somewhat stunned by her interaction with the bookseller.
He didnae say a single unkind thing to me. Nae even when Emily said I lived at the castle. He didnae mention my build, my size… I ken he wouldnae ken who my father is, or my grandfather, but… he was kind. He was cheerful. He even seemed happy to speak to me.
“Come on. Maggie has some new designs in!” Emily dragged her into the seamstress’s shop.
Brigid swallowed hard, still half expecting a comment about her size—much more curvy and stout than many other lasses. To her surprise, the seamstress proved to be a rather rotund woman herself, with bright eyes and a cheerful smile. She took one look at her and said, “Och, now there’s a face I can dress in just about anything! Look at ye! Such a lovely, full figure on ye… What is yer name?”
“Brigid.” Brigid swallowed nervously.
“Ye have a lovely figure, Brigid. Nae that most lasses dinnae, but…” The seamstress gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I like workin’ with a lass who’s built a wee bit more like myself than Mistress Emily at times. It keeps my mind and my skills sharp. Now then, what do ye lasses need?”
That question resulted in a whirlwind of measurements—something Brigid was well used to after years of living with Valerie—then talk of fabrics, ribbons, and trimmings, which she was not used to.
Valerie usually made clothing from what she had available, and though it was always lovely and suited to each sister, she never reallydiscussedit with them. She spoke more with those who commissioned her work in the village, of course, but at home, Brigid had long grown accustomed to wearing whatever her sister gave her, never questioning the choices Valerie made.
But now… Maggie had fabrics of several different kinds, in shades Brigid was positive had never been seen in their little village. Linens, silks, and even some satins and other fabricsfrom as far away as London. Brigid had seen the nicer fabrics before, from her father’s plunder, but they’d almost always been traded for more practical things.
Och, Valerie would love this place. More than that… she and Maggie would love workin’ together.
The seamstress of Clan MacKane was a jovial, friendly woman whom Brigid felt sure would have much in common with her older sister. And the stories Valerie could share…
Aye. She would love it. And Megan would love workin’ with the warriors and hunters—and the leather workers, I’ll wager. And Lily and Emily could work together, and a village wise-woman if there is one… All of us could be happy in a place like this.
Nay one looks twice at me. Nay one disdains me. Nay one whispers about Blackwood’s daughter here. Even my build doesnae result in much comment—nothing like the insults I used to hear.
The next stall was the fortune teller’s. The fortune teller proved to be an older woman with iron-gray hair and a strangely serene smile. She offered them tea and read the leaves with practiced ease.
Brigid made Emily go first.
The fortune teller looked at the cup. “Strife an’ peace in yer life, M’Lady, and destiny all a-tangle with the vagaries of life. But thismuch I can tell ye—if the fires that plague ye can be tamped, then ye’ll find more blessings in yer life.”
