Page 31 of To Wed a Laird
Rose was becoming frustrated, and she was sure that Cormac was too. She was just about to give up her search and tell him that she could find nothing that suited her when Cormac stepped in. He strode past the stallholder, who hurriedly stepped back, and made his way towards the rack of clothes.
“We are going to find a dress today, or I will not be responsible for my actions!” he growled.
The woman stepped back, clearly frightened, but Rose patted her arm and smiled at her, indicating that Cormac was joking. Unfortunately, he was such a big man that even his jokes were scary to those who did not know him.
Then something quite astonishing happened. Cormac picked out a linen dress in a deep crimson colour, which Rose loved as soon as she saw it.
“Now try it on,” he ordered. He wore a fierce frown, but his eyes were twinkling.
Rose nodded and giggled. When she put the dress on, it looked as though it had been made for her. It had a modestround neck, puffed sleeves that narrowed into tight cuffs from the elbows down, and a slightly flared skirt. As well as that, its cut emphasised her trim waistline.
Cormac gazed at her in awe. “I think we have found it,” he said, with a satisfied air. “You look beautiful, Rose.”
“Thank you, Cormac,” she replied. “I think I want this one.”
He smiled at her, a wide, beaming smile, and Rose felt her heart warm—with love.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The stallholder smiledat both of them as she put the dress away in a cloth bag, then looked in astonishment at the gold Cormac had given her.
“But M’Laird, it is too much!” she protested.
Cormac smiled and closed her hand over the coins he had just given her. “Do not argue with your Laird,” he said gently, smiling.
The money he had given her would buy enough fabric to make five dresses. The woman’s face lit up, and she gave him a deep curtsey. “Thank ye, M’Laird,” she said happily.
Rose and Cormac strolled along the street again, and she was impressed by how deferential people were to him. Even when a little boy of about three ran out in front of him, squealing with laughter, he knelt down in front of him, then asked him his name.
“Davie,” the boy said. “What is yours?”
“M’laird!” a young woman came up to them, looking very flustered. “I am so sorry! I couldnae stop him!”
Cormac stood up, but he was smiling. “Little boys are always naughty,” he replied, looking down at the child again. “Youcan call me Lairdy,” he said, then they moved away, and Rose noticed that they were walking towards the tavern.
“You are very good with children,” she observed.
“I have one of my own,” he replied, “and as you have found out, bringing up Elspeth is no easy task. Now, I think it is time for a drink and something to eat. Are you hungry?”
“Indeed I am,” Rose replied. “Do you think they have haggis?”
Cormac’s blue eyes widened in amazement. “What kind of monster have I created?” he asked. “I think you would live on the stuff if I let you!”
“Hmm,” Rose mused. “The haggis-eating Rose?”
He laughed heartily at that. “Well, you are very lucky, my dear monster because haggis is served here every day. Not only that, it is made to a special recipe that our cook at the castle devised, so I know you’ll like it.”
“Wonderful,” Rose murmured.
She looked up at the name of the tavern: The Shorn Sheep. It was very appropriate for a wool-growing area, she thought.
They went inside, and many of the patrons stood up to greet Cormac, who knew a lot of them by name, which surprised Rose enormously. She had a notion that someone in Cormac’s position would consider his tenants and the villagers far beneath his notice. Yet, the more she found out about Cormac, the more she realised that his own experiences had moulded him into a sympathetic and caring person, which was one of the reasons she liked him so much.
They found a table by the hearth and Rose was glad of the warmth, since dusk was just beginning to fall and there was already a chill in the air. A young woman came to their table almost at once and Cormac ordered the haggis, as well as two glasses of whisky.
“I thought I told you I don’t like whisky?” Rose asked mischievously.
Cormac raised his eyebrows, then assumed an expression of mock severity. “You will like this one,” he ordered sternly. “Or I will want to know why!”
