Page 93 of Sutherland's Secret
With Cecilia’s deft sewing skills, the gown now fit like a glove, the squared neckline perfectly framing Eleanor’s breasts and plumping them just enough but not too much to be vulgar. The skirts fell in pleats to the ground. The long sleeves had Belgian lace sewn at the cuff, giving it a very feminine look.
Cecilia had found matching slippers. They were a little big on Eleanor, but she wore them anyway because the boots she normally wore would not have been appropriate, and even more inappropriate would have been to go barefoot, as she liked to do while in the castle.
Eleanor wished she had a mirror to check her appearance, but all she had were Brice, Campbell, Thomas, and the retinue of warriors they were traveling with. She’d dressed in the trees with Brice as her maid, much to Thomas’s disapproval, but she needed someone to lace her up, and she wasn’t asking any of the other men.
She turned nervously toward them. “Well?”
“Very nice,” Thomas said, barely giving her a look. Since the talk, their relationship had been better, less strained, and though Thomas clearly did not approve of her relationship with Brice, he seemed to accept that it was her decision to make.
Brice studied her a little more closely. “Ye’re beautiful,” he said with a soft smile.
“Thank you.”
His gaze went to her hands, which were shaking, and he took them in his. “Are ye sure about this, lass?”
She hesitated before nodding. “I need to do this.”
They’d sailed for two days and weighed anchor in a hidden inlet north of Inverness. They were an hour or so away from where Cumberland was garrisoned and where they would find Blackwood. But first Eleanor needed to get into her part.
It felt strange, wearing a fine gown. She wanted her tunic and arisaid back. She wanted to be padding through the great hall barefoot, serving Brice’s people. She wanted to be hiding in the woods, waiting for the next group of refugees.
She wanted all of this behind her.
“Ready?” Campbell asked, walking up to them and giving her a quick glance.
For the hundredth time Eleanor wondered why Campbell was assisting them. What was he getting out of it? If he sided with the English, he should be helping them instead of her. He pretended to be a mercenary, doing this for some mysterious favor in the future, but Eleanor wasn’t convinced of that.
“Let’s go,” Brice said.
It was far more difficult to ride astride in her gown than it was in breeches, but Eleanor managed it, while her heart pounded in dread and anticipation. She couldn’t believe she was actually riding back into Fort Augustus. Knowing she had Sutherland and Campbell on her side made it better, but she also knew this was a battle she had to fight on her own. She was doing it for Charles and his family but maybe for herself as well. Maybe she was taking back her life, telling Blackwood and anyone else who cared that she was no longer the weak, defenseless woman she once was.
That thought gave her the strength to ride through the gates of Fort Augustus.
When Brice helped her dismount, her knees barely held her up. Brice lent a supportive hand under her elbow until she found her footing.
Campbell announced himself to the guard who appeared at the gate. The guard looked them over closely, spending much more time studying Brice. Brice stood there in his kilt, looking every bit the Highlander, tall and proud, his face a mask of indifference that showed nothing of his thoughts or feelings.
He was doing this for her. If not for her, he would not be anywhere close to Fort Augustus, Blackwood, or Cumberland. He wouldn’t be risking everything for her.
She grabbed his arm and turned him around so they were somewhat private. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. “Go back to the ship. They don’t know who you are yet. Go back. Wait for us.”
“Ye want me to leave ye here?” he asked.
“I want you to be safe.”
His brows slammed down. “Ye think I can’t take care of myself?”
She thought of Colin, taken by Blackwood’s soldiers. He’d thought he could take care of himself, and now look where he was. “I think it’s foolish for you to be here with me. You have too much to lose.”
His gaze softened. “Aye. I do. I have ye to lose.”
She blinked. “Brice—”
He gently lifted her chin so she was looking at him. “Nay, lass. I’m staying right by yer side. Where I belong.”
The guard appeared again. “This way,” he said.
Brice grinned at her, and she glimpsed the warrior who lived inside of him. There was a light in his eyes of an anticipated battle that made her shiver.
