Amanda Scott by Abducted Heiress Page A

everyone knew that dalliance was not allowed. Supper, however, was more leisurely,
     accompanied by conversation and music from the pipers’ gallery. Afterward, people tended to linger in the hall, and a number
     of the men slept there each night on the floor.
    Diverting her train of thought to a mental list of what remained to do before she could depart for Eilean Donan, she moved
     toward the basin to wash her hands and face, and saw that Doreen still held the yellow dress. The maidservant was looking
     uncertainly from her to Lady Mackinnon.
    Lady Mackinnon said, “Quickly, lass, fetch a more suitable gown.”
    “That one will do,” Molly said. “I told her to fetch it.”
    “But ye willna want to wear anything so splendid, my dear, and I ken fine that your ordinary clothing hasna yet been packed
     into the kists ye’ll take wi’ ye.”
    “Aye, madam, but I have good reason for choosing this gown.”
    “I canna imagine what it could be,” Lady Mackinnon said, her tone inviting confidence. When none was forthcoming, she frowned
     and then suddenly smiled. “I see how it is,” she said. “Indeed, I do! The man is handsome, to be sure, but oh, my love, I
     do hope he willna disappoint ye. To my mind, he is rather brash, rather…Well, no to put too fine a point on it, he is an arrogant
     laddie and of such great size as to be intimidating. Of course, Highland chiefs—nobbut what Kintail is only a chieftain like
     Mackinnon, but with a family as powerful as the Mackenzies, it is much the same thing. For all that he is young, he—” She
     broke off with a comical look. “Faith, but what was I about to say afore I carried on about Kintail?”
    Well aware of where her ladyship’s thoughts had been taking her but in no mood to encourage her, Molly said gently, “I chose
     this gown, madam, because Kintail ordered me to wear blue. He told me in a most authoritarian way that my life will be different
     from now on, and although I do not doubt the truth of that, he will not choose what I shall wear—not now or ever.”
    “Nay, then, of course he canna treat ye so,” Lady Mackinnon agreed. Frowning, she went on in her scattered way, “That is to
     say, I expect he can, for men do, ye ken—some men, at all events. But he has nae cause for tyranny, and if he were a heartless
     man, I dinna believe his grace the King would ha’ consigned ye to his care and protection.”
    Molly did not know his grace the King, but she did not believe that he had given any thought to her well-being. Had he done
     so, he would not have given her in ward at the tender age of five to her uncle Angus or at the age of six to any man with
     “the Grim” appended to his name. Had James had the least care for her, he would have allowed her to grow up in her own home
     with her own mother and her beloved little sister; and had that been the case, Bessie would still be alive.
    She did not point out any of this to her ladyship, however. Not only was it an uncomfortable subject to discuss with anyone,
     but being fully occupied with taking off her hunting dress and donning the gaily embroidered yellow wool, Molly was content
     to listen while the others listed tasks that awaited their attention after the meal. Her imagination insisted on presenting
     one image after another of the powerful Kintail, usually frowning, but she banished each one as it appeared. It was enough
     that he would control her future. She would not allow him to occupy her mind. Her ladyship offered a stream of orders and
     advice, but despite her own straying thoughts and these well-intended interruptions, Molly was soon ready.
    Leaving Doreen to tidy up the room before she joined the other servants to eat her meal, the two ladies went together to the
     great hall, where they found men and maids surging in through the main entrance and hurrying to take places at several trestle
     tables set at right angles to the laird’s table.
    Clatter and noisy conversation