Page 16 of The Highlander’s Untamed Lady

“I’ll find ye a lovely gown,” Agnes said with a puff of pride and set to rummaging through the garments within the trunk.

Diana settled back and watched with interest, waiting for the woman to discover what the trunk truly held.

Agnes’ frantic sorting slowed as realization dawned. “It appears they’ve sent ye the wrong things, my lady. These are all just rags.”

“Not rags.” Diana pulled the mantle and cloak from her shoulders, revealing the well-worn dress beneath. It had been fine once.

In fact, it had been her mother’s. They all had.

The green gown she wore hung from her shoulders, shapeless around her narrow hips and legs. She did not possess the lush, curvy figure her mother had been so known for. “These are my dresses.”

She plucked a blue one from the tumbled pile. The few remaining beads over the neckline winked up at her. All the careful whorls of beading had long since torn away from the hem, save a few left at the edges of the sleeves. Blue had been her mother’s favorite color.

Agnes slowly took the treasured gown in her hands and ran the white edge of her fingernail over a patch of missing beadwork, where sad errant threads marked their missing counterparts. The older woman turned her gaze to Diana. “I can fix the beading for ye.”

Diana craned her neck forward, curious in spite of herself. “Can you?”

“Aye.” Agnes smiled and a rosy flush accented her round cheeks. “If ye agree to let me be yer lady’s maid.”

“How very persuasive of you.” Diana lifted her brow and watched the maid warily.

Agnes winked and lifted the dress, waving it in the air.

“I can restore all yer gowns.”

Diana couldn’t help but smile at the crafty older woman. “Very well.”

Agnes opened her mouth to speak, but before anything could come out, Kitzi came scampering into the room, yipping as she ran in a wild, arcing circle around Zeus before departing as swiftly as she had come.

Both women stared at the open doorway a moment after the dog had left.

“Have ye met Kitzi?” Agnes asked.

Zeus grumbled to himself and sank to the floor.

Diana lifted her brows and nodded. “Oh, yes. She’s one I won’t easily forget.”

“It’s as if all the joy and exuberance of Emilia’s youth went into that dog.” Agnes gave a sad smile.

Diana gave Agnes a questioning look, not wanting to pry and yet wanting to know more.

“The laird’s sister. She was just a lass, a bit of a thing at that.” Agnes moved closer, bringing with her the clean scent of herbs. “People wandered onto our land, as what happens more times than no’ these days, and they tried to take Kitzi from her. They were starving, ye see… She defended that wee dog with everything in her and they…” Agnes’ blue eyes shone with unshed tears. “They killed the lass. The laird saw, only he was too far to stop it. He managed to save Kitzi, and the two have been inseparable ever since. As if the broken pieces of their hearts fit better together than alone.”

“I didn’t know,” Diana said softly. All of it made sense now – the small dog, Evander’s constant protection of the wolves, of Diana, his plea to have her take guards with her. He was right when he said he didn’t mean to keep her a prisoner. He was protecting her.

It also meant he’d suffered love lost as well. Not through rejection as she had with her father, but through the kind of helplessness that she’d lost her mother.

“Aye, well…” Agnes shrugged and went to close the door. “Kitzi has more love in her than any creature so small ought to. Now let’s get ye ready.”

It only took one hour for Agnes to transform Diana from the mess she’d arrived in to something entirely different than she ever thought she’d be. Diana had never been considered a beauty, nor had she aspired to even try. But in the caress of her mother’s overlarge gown with its fresh beading winking along the neckline and sleeves, the oil taming the riot of her hair, and the fresh glow of clean skin, Diana felt beautiful.

She made her way to the great hall where she was to meet Evander. The buzz of voices hit her first, like the eager humming of flies over a fresh carcass. Her pulse quickened at the thought of so many people to create such sound. Several bystanders looked her way as she passed, their stares going to her wolves and then to her dress before grazing her face. Her cheeks ignited with heat and her stomach fluttered with discomfort. She suddenly wished she could disappear inside the gown, to wrap herself in what was left of her mother and have it protect her from all those bloody prying eyes.

Diana stopped abruptly and loyal Zeus sat at her feet, resolute in joining his mistress while Hera walked on for two steps with Agnes before both realized her absence and turned back.

“I’m not going,” Diana stated.

A man leaning against the wall watched her. She returned his curiosity with a glare. Let him feel the weight of a stranger staring and assessing.