Page 40 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“I was twelve when Alexandra was born, so I was lucky enough to have many wonderful years with her. She would read to me often, show me how to bake bread, and nurse me to sleep. She was a brilliant woman.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosaline murmured. She felt great empathy for his tale and thought of poor Alexandra, who had never known her mother’s love, yet was such a happy soul. “And yer faither?”
“He raised us well on his own. He took time out of his day for us and fought to recover from his grief for us. Although behind closed doors, I kenned he mourned her deeply. But still, he took us on trips around Scotland so that we would ken the land we lived on and meet folk from outside of our clan. He taught me how to fight—spent many hours showin’ me how to wield a sword and protect meself. He is the reason I have won all of these battles.”
Rosaline had come to the library for an epic story, and yet her soon-to-be husband had one all along. She wanted him to know that she was grateful for his sharing and that she was listening intently.
“He, too, sounds like a wonderful man. He taught ye well.”
“It’s been ten years without him. He was gettin’ older, but he should have had more years in him. Illness took him quickly, practically overnight, and the Lairdship was thrust upon me, leavin’ me nay time to grieve him. And then the attacks began.”
Rosaline reached out and placed a hand on Caelan’s knee. He placed a hand over hers, silently thanking her for listening.
“I’m sorry, Caelan. That must have been very difficult. What about yer uncle? Could he nae assume some of the duties?”
“He didnae have the connections that me faither made for me. Didnae ken the other lairds nearby. And he had never really been involved in the runnin’ of the clan. He and me faither never got on well, so Faither never told Uncle Harrison much about the politics of it all. He didnae ken what was goin’ on.”
“I see.” Rosaline nodded.
“It’s why I am so protective of me position here. I have to ensure that the clan is ruled by the right people, as they have gone through too much already. Especially Alexandra. It is why I need an heir.”
Rosaline nodded, understanding and remembering her side of the bargain. She knew she had a purpose here and was happy to fulfill it when the time came. The idea of being able to give him something in return for all the care she was getting here was the only consolation she had.
“Anyway,” Caelan continued, his voice lowering. “I didnae come here to talk to ye about death. I came to tell ye that yer dresses have arrived.”
Rosaline was surprised that she felt a surge of excitement about clothing. She sat up and was suddenly eager to see them, to have her own gowns in colors thatshehad chosen, styles thatshefelt comfortable in.
“Mrs. Milloy is in yer rooms just now with the garments. I believe she has yer weddin’ dress also and needs to make any final alterations. The weddin’ in is two days, so we’d better have everythin’ in order.”
“Aye, so it is,” Rosaline concurred quietly.
The time of no return was approaching.
* * *
“Ah, a vision in white,” Mrs. Milloy sighed with joy as she lowered the wedding gown over Rosaline’s head.
The fabric was simple, unadorned with embroidery, lace, or beading—exactly how Rosaline wanted it. She did not like feeling bumps and lines on her skin. And yet the gown was still intricate and beautiful. A sheer layer of tulle lay beautifully over a flowing layer of silk, giving the dress beautiful movement when she turned, as the top layer drifted to catch up with the bottom one. It hugged her torso and cascaded from her hips, accentuating her silhouette. Her sleeves flared at the cuffs, in harmony with the entire garment.
“It’s perfect, thank ye, Mrs. Milloy.”
“It is rare that I am asked to make somethin’ so simple. I doubted the idea at first, but I see now how it lets the bride shine.” Mrs. Milloy beamed at her in the mirror. “Ye made wonderful choices, Miss Rosaline.”
Rosaline smiled in return. She appreciated that the dressmaker did not try to dissuade her from her desires, that she did not suggest buttons here or a bow there, but simply fulfilled her requests to perfection.
“I’m just going to pin it in a couple of places, just here at the waist and the shoulders, to get the perfect fit. And then I shall return with it on the mornin’ of the weddin’.”
As Mrs. Milloy began to gather the fabric and secure it with a small pin, careful not to prick her, Rosaline pondered the wedding once more. She wished that her brother or Victoria could attend. Someone who was there for her throughout her life, just to reassure her that she was doing the right thing.
“Will ye come to the weddin’, Mrs. Milloy?” Rosaline found herself asking.
She did not know if she was even allowed to invite people, but it simply felt right.
“Me, lass?” Mrs. Milloy looked at her in the mirror, surprised. “It isnae necessary to invite yer dressmaker to yer weddin’, love. I am happy to depart once I have dressed ye.”
“I ken it isnae customary. But would ye come anyway?”
Rosaline watched the woman’s surprise turn into sincerity, and a soft smile graced her face in the mirror.
