The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,25
and finest petticoats too, ye ken?”
“Cleansing by the light of the full moon?” Sorcha hurried after Jenny, unlacing her short jacket and tossing the stomacher on a table. “And where exactly did ye hang it to perform such a pagan act?” If Da got wind of such, he’d set the priest on Jenny. Old Aderyn, the clan’s white witch, was one thing. Anyone else acting the heathen was quite another.
With a wicked grin, Jenny pointed at a small arched door at the other end of the room. “Yer turret fair glows with power during the full moon. Have ye forgotten all the times we snuck up there when the rest of the keep thought we were fast asleep in our beds?” She hurried over to a large trunk tucked away in a corner and dropped to her knees. With a soft groan, she lifted the heavy lid and propped it back against the wall. “And why have ye gone still when there’s so much to be done? I’ll have little enough time to dress myself. Get a move on, wee sluggard,” she said with a glance back over her shoulder. Jenny could be a mite bossy when she wished.
Sorcha stepped clear of her skirts, shook them out, and draped them across the end of the bed. Shivering, she hurried over to the hearth and tossed more wood on the fire. The later the hour, the chillier her room became, especially once she’d stripped down to nothing but skin. She filled a bowl with water, clenching her teeth against the cold as she splashed her face, then wet a rag and scrubbed away the day’s grime. Unlike many of her kinsmen, she practiced daily washing and even went to the trouble of a full bath at least twice a week. A habit instilled in her by Mama.
Jenny scooped up a linen folded over the back of a chair and scrubbed Sorcha dry as quickly as she washed. “Ye’re turning yerself blue with cold, ye ken? I believe ye’ve washed enough. No amount of pitty-pattin’ about is going to delay this dinner at yer man’s side forever. Have ye decided if ye’ll give in to him before yer wedding night or tease him and make him wait?”
Sorcha flashed hot all over.
Jenny laughed. “That chased away the blue from yer skin. Ye’re pink and toasty now, I’ll wager!”
“Ye’re wicked as they come,” Sorcha scolded. One of the many reasons she loved Jenny so. She donned her shift and stays, then gave Jenny her back for the dreaded tightening of the laces. “Sutherland MacCoinnich shall not be meeting my maidenhead until our wedding night, thank ye verra much.”
“Ahh…assurances.” Jenny yanked the cords tighter, then patted Sorcha before stepping away. “Wise move. Just in case, knowing the man’s history and all.” She rounded to the front, yanked downward on the stays, and shook them until Sorcha’s breasts nearly bubbled free. With an approving nod, Jenny smiled. “Much better. That’ll suit the neckline of yer gown better and keep Master MacCoinnich’s gaze from straying over to Lady Culane’s whorish offerings.”
While she agreed with Jenny’s assessment of Lady Culane, Sorcha refrained from commenting. Not tonight. She’d not give that woman a second thought. She gathered up the velvety yardage of her gown. Even after two years, the color had remained rich and sumptuous. She fingered the soft material. The feel of it was both calming and sad. Mama had loved this color and adored velvet. Da had sent for it all the way from France. Blinking at the misting of tears, she stepped into the dress and once more, turned her back to Jenny. “Hurry with the laces, aye? The hour grows late, and ye’ve not had a moment for yerself. I can tend to my hair.”
Without hesitating, Jenny laced the gown good and snug, then adjusted the drape of the skirts with pinches and jerks. She beamed with a proud smile as she circled Sorcha. “I dinna have to worry about my appearance, dear sister. All eyes will be upon yerself.” Jenny’s smile turned wicked. “And I’ll be trying not to laugh when the old Culane cow turns green with envy.”
“Jenny!” Sorcha did her best to sound properly scolding but failed. How could she chide Jenny for having the courage to say aloud what everyone else thought? She turned her friend toward the door and swatted her behind. “Get ye dressed while I brush out my hair and plait it again. Da will have both our