The Seer - Hildie McQueen Page 0,25

held a soft deep red shawl up to her face. “I have never seen so much finery in one place. Why does yer mother have so much?”

“My father indulges her and often meets with captains of trading ships for gifts. I have many pretty things as well, but I don’t bring trunks like Mother.” Fiona held up a breathtaking blue gown. “This would bring out the color of yer eyes.”

Fiona’s mother walked in and smiled indulgently at her daughter. “Looking for something to wear for yer betrothed?”

“Yes. Both Dallis and I will be beautifully dressed this eve.”

One thing Fiona and her mother had in common was that they both were relentless when excited about something. Before long, Dallis found herself dressed in the pale blue gown, her hair up in a complicated hairstyle and jewels hanging around her neck and from her ears.

She’d been pinched, cinched and tugged at until breathing was almost impossible. At long last both Fiona and her mother took a step back just as Dallis’ own mother walked in.

“Ye are breathtaking,” Fiona said, turning Dallis to the looking glass. “What do ye think?”

In truth, the reflection was barely recognizable. Dallis’ gaze swept from the satin slippers on her feet up and her breath caught. “I don’t know what ye’ve done, but I don’t look like...me.”

Her mother neared with a soft smile. “Ye certainly do look like yerself, but even more beautiful than usual.”

“All eyes will be on her. I best get done up as well, or else it will be hard to attract any attention,” Fiona quipped.

As the maids turned their attention to Fiona, Dallis could not look away from the mirror. What would Alasdair think? Would her appearance only enhance the vast difference in their stations?

Her stomach tumbled at the fact he’d see her at her best. She pushed any thoughts other than his reaction to her appearance away.

The evening meal was a celebration and Alasdair had to admit it was enjoyable. After the meal was finished, Laird Sinclair invited everyone to the courtyard.

Colorful banners had been strung up which gave a festive air. Once again, the musicians had been summoned. Besides a bright moon, there were lanterns and a bonfire to give plenty of light.

Lively tunes played and people began to dance. Lasses flirted with lads who did their best to keep from stumbling.

Children dashed underfoot as maids deftly weaved through the crowd with trays laden with bread trenchers filled with sweet meats and cheeses.

There were barrels of fresh water and pitchers of ale on tables surrounded by men who stood talking whilst watching the activities.

In a large area, behind the guard’s quarters, men sparred energetically enjoying the attention of an audience. Swords clashed as the warriors grunted with overdone enthusiasm.

Older women sat in circles near the bonfires gossiping as they watched the goings on.

It was times like this that made Alasdair consider changing his lifestyle. Being part of a community was to be cherished and he wondered how many of the people present took this day for granted.

He’d bathed and donned yet another set of clothes loaned to him by Guiles. He’d asked for his to be washed, so that he could depart the next day.

Next to the keep’s main entrance, a tent had been erected for the lairds and families. There were four long tables decorated with flowers and greenery.

He looked to where Cuthbert sat at one of the tables with two men. His guards were not included. Cuthbert had chastised the men, after they’d not come to his defense against Alasdair. His guards were not allowed to participate in the festivities and were told to remain just outside the gates.

The lairds and ladies had yet to make an appearance.

“Come, ye and I will join my laird. He comes momentarily,” Niven said.

“Why me?” Alasdair asked.

“Because ye are a distant cousin of mine and I am cousin to Lady Sinclair.”

Alasdair let out a long breath. “I am not yer cousin.”

Niven grunted. “Are ye sure of that?”

Just as Alasdair reached to touch Niven’s shoulder, the man hurried away.

Moments later, everyone’s attention turned to the front entrance to the main keep in anticipation of the laird’s coming out.

Laird Sinclair exited first, followed by the Robertson and lastly the Gordon. The laird’s wives followed next in the procession. They walked beside each other with heads held high.

Chatter became louder and necks were craned to catch sight of who walked out next. A blonde Alasdair recognized as Fiona Gordon appeared dressed in hues of green. Her light