Page 117 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“Ye said the blue one.”

“That was before I saw this one in the light.”

Donaldina looked at her reflection. The green wool was deep enough to appear almost black where the folds gathered, but when the morning sun touched it, threads of gold emerged through the fabric. Lachlan once said the color matched the hills after rain. Her throat tightened at the memory.

“The silver clasp,” she nodded. “The one that belonged tae me mother.”

Mairi’s expression softened. “Aye.”

“And Lachlan’s plaid should be placed near the altar.”

“Donaldina—”

“He signed the accord. Whatever came after, he meant tae secure Dun Ard’s future.” She kept her attention upon the gown. “He should be present in whatever manner remains tae us.”

Mairi carefully laid the fabric on the bed. Donaldina moved to the writing table, covered with crowded lists. The MacNicol elders would sit closest to the front, while the MacIver leaders would stand opposite them under their banner, not behind it, ensuring no clan seemed subordinate. Father Maol would deliver the Gaelic blessing before the formal vows. Following tradition, bread, salt, and honey would be placed on the table afterward. She dipped the quill into the ink.

“Old Iain must be given a place near the hearth,” she continued. “His knees willnae bear standing through the ceremony.”

Mairi leaned over her shoulder. “Already written.”

“And the fishermen from the lower village?”

“Represented by Fergus and his eldest daughter.”

“The women from the weaving house should be included as well. They kept half the castle clothed while Lachlan was away.”

Mairi gave her a sidelong look. “Ye have planned a council gathering, a memorial and a feast large enough tae feed half the coast.”

“It is a wedding.”

“Aye. Yer wedding.”

The quill stopped.

Mairi moved nearer, her amusement gentling. “Ye have become very skilled at speaking of banners, seating and ceremonial bread whenever anyone mentions the husband.”

Donaldina resumed writing. “The husband requires less preparation.”

“Does he?”

Heat crept beneath Donaldina’s collar.

Mairi smiled. “There. That is what I mean.”

“What?”

“That look.”

Donaldina frowned. “I have nae look.”

“Ye dae. Ye have worn it since the laird carried ye through the gates from the hunting lodge.”

Donaldina placed the quill down more firmly than necessary.

Mairi began folding a strip of embroidered linen. “When he first came tae Dun Ard, ye watched him as though deciding where best tae bury the body.”

“I had reason.”