He jumped back over the rail, standing by her side. “For you,” he said. “It does not match your beauty, but it comes close.”
Jean looked down at the blood red rose. Tears pricked at her eyes.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She looked up at him, staring into his blue eyes. They were the color of the sea on a summer’s day.
“May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” He looked down at her, holding his arm out.
She hesitated and then took it. He led her into the hall, where musicians were set up in one corner. Some couples were dancing.
She stopped. “I really don’t know how,” she breathed.
He looked down at her. “It’s easy,” he said. “Just follow my lead.”
He took her by the waist and led her.
His arms were around her. She put her arms around him. It felt like coming home.
The music started. It was a slow, haunting song on the harp. A woman sung along to it in Gaelic.
Everyone stopped and stared at the couple: the handsome laird’s son, and the beautiful young woman in white.
Another pair of eyes watched them, also.
Janet, from the back of the room.
Chapter Eight
She watched them twirl around the floor, the center of attention. The other dancers had stopped to admire them, too.
Her betrothed, decked out in his finest, leading the young woman in white with the long red hair.
Janet cast appraising eyes over her. She looked lovely – even Janet conceded that. But her dress was old, made in a style of many years before. Janet cast her eyes down on her own gown, made from one of the most expensive materials shipped from France, by an Edinburgh dressmaker, no less. Its style had been copied from the courts of France. It was simply the latest fashion that these bumbling backwater folks would never have seen or imagined in a thousand years.
Why, then, were all eyes on the girl in white, rather than her?
It had simply never happened before. She couldn’t remember a time when all eyes had been on another woman when she herself was present.
And who was she, anyway?
The dance finished. Janet watched as the girl curtseyed to the tall blonde man. He didn’t take his arms from her. Instead, he gazed down at her as if he was holding a very rare, precious jewel. The girl gazed up at him with puppy dog eyes.
Janet felt an ugly emotion twisting through her, rearing up like a snake about to strike.
It was insufferable. She had condescended to marry into this backward clan – she, Lady Janet, who could have held out for a prince.
And she was being humiliated by her betrothed with a girl who – well, who was she?
No lady, that’s for certain. Her awkward dancing showed that.
She waited for Alan to raise his eyes and see her standing here, let go of the girl and claim her as he was supposed to.
It never happened.
They only had eyes for each other.
***
Jean woke the next day tired, fighting to stay asleep.
Her eyes opened, and the events of the night before came flooding back to her.
The banquet. Wearing the beautiful dress. Alan, gazing at her with shining blue eyes. Dancing with him. Being held in his strong arms.
She pinched herself, not believing it was true.
It had simply been the most wonderful night of her life.
“Jean.” Her mother stood over her, shaking her. “I know that you had a late night, lassie. But it’s back to work today. I’ve let you sleep a bit later, but you’d best get moving now.”
Jean flung the blankets back, stumbling to the floor. It felt like ice beneath her feet.
She saw the magnolia dress flung over the back of a chair, where she had tiredly thrown it the night before.
Back to her real life. Back to reality. She was Jean, who mopped the kitchen floors and washed the dishes at the Castle. He was the laird’s son, a great warrior who was engaged to the most beautiful lady in the Highlands.
She knew he wouldn’t acknowledge her today, or ever more. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her.
The night had been beautiful, and she would treasure it forever.
But it was fading now, like a wonderful dream.
It wasn’t real. This was real – the coldness of the floor as she quickly dressed in the half light of the morning. The long walk to the castle, rubbing her hands together to make herself warmer in the chill morning air. Aggie, barking orders at her as soon as she walked through the kitchen doors.
This was her life.
It is alright, Jean told herself. I can endure it.
At least I have that one night, when Alan looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the world.
***
Alan was gulping his breakfast.
“Slow down, laddie.” His mother was amused, looking at him. “No one is going to snatch away the food! Why are you in such a rush?”
Alan lowered his fork, looking sheepishly at his mother.
“I have a busy day,” he said. He wasn’t about to tell her the real reason – that he simply had to find her again. The girl in the white dress. Jean.
He had thought about her long into the night, and replayed everything that had happened between them. He still couldn’t believe that he had found her, and she had been here the whole time, underneath his nose. In the same castle, walking the same floors.
His heart started beating rapidly as he pictured her in her gown, the long knot of red hair and her beautiful grey eyes.
Lady Margot gazed at her son, and saw the softening of his eyes. He was far away in his mind, her son. She guessed the reason – she, along with everybody else, had seen how he had been entranced by Jean, barely leaving her side the whole night. It had been sweet, but it was something that couldn’t be encouraged. For obvious reasons.
“Alan.” His mother cleared her throat. “That was very kind of you, the way you made a fuss over Jean who works in the kitchens.” She smiled at him. “The girl wouldn’t be used to such attention. But you must understand that you can’t see her again.”
Alan looked at his mother. “What must I understand?”
Lady Margot tittered. “Oh, Alan, really! She is a lovely lassie, to be sure, but she is a kitchen maid. And may I remind you that you are an engaged man, betrothed to the most eligible lady in the Highlands?”
Alan reddened. “An engagement you and Father forced upon me.”
Lady Margot squared her shoulders. “It is the way that it has always been done,” she said. “I didn’t know your father before my parents arranged a match between us. Don’t look so wounded, Alan. You are a man now. This is the way of the world.”
Alan threw his napkin on the table. “And what about how I feel?”
His mother frowned. “Alan, it is simply not about how you feel. You have duties, and responsibilities, as your father’s son. You will be laird of this castle one day. You must make an appropriate match.”
Alan’s mouth tightened. He knew all about his duties. He had been a dutiful son always. He had never disobeyed his parents.
But what about now?
His father walked into the room, taking his place at the head of the table.
“How are you feeling this morning, Alan?” He winked at his son. “Danced up a storm last night, hey? You are your father’s son, my lad. I always did have an eye for the lassies – before I married you, my dear, of course.” He grinned at Lady Margot.
“I have to go.” Alan stood up, scraping his chair against the floor.
His father gazed at him, frowning. “Aye, saddle the horses; I’ve a mind to do some practise today.”
Alan turned and walked away.
“Oh, Alan.” He turned at his father’s voice.
“I know you had a bit of fun last night – that’s what the banquet was about, of course! But it is a new day today.” He looked his son in the eye. “I ex
pect you to be attending to Janet today, and every day hereafter. We will be planning the wedding very soon.”
Leith smiled. “We can’t have Janet think that you are neglecting her, can we? She is a fine lady and will inform her father if she feels that she isn’t being treated properly.”
Alan nodded slowly.
He left the room. His heart felt like it had been torn from his chest and thrown to the floor.
Chapter Nine
He watched her walking across the courtyard, carrying a mop and a pail.
She carefully lifted the pail, throwing the dirty water into the trough. Then she set both mop and pail against the wall, and sat down on a bench, picking up one foot and rubbing it.
She was as beautiful as he remembered from the night before.
The stunning white gown was gone, of course. She wore her everyday clothes, with an apron over them. Her red hair, which had been shown to full advantage last night, was hidden beneath a cap. And yet, when she looked up from her foot, he saw the same face – those heartbreaking eyes and those full lips.
She looked tired. Well, she would be, he thought. It had been a late night, and she started work early. She didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in like he did.
A wave of protectiveness washed over him as he looked at her.
He wanted to take her foot and rub it, telling her she never needed to wear those shoes again, or be on her feet so long as to make them ache.
She leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. Then a slow smile lit up her features. He knew she was thinking of the night before. His heart started thumping uncomfortably.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she saw him, staring at her.
Her eyes widened, and they stared at each other.
There were people everywhere, going about their daily chores, but in that moment, it was as if there was only the two of them alive in the world.
He knew then.
His duties receded slowly in his mind, the responsibilities of his role, his parents words this morning, Janet. Everything.
There was only her.
There would only ever be her.
***
He met her in the gardens, later that day.
He had gone up to her in the courtyard, after they had locked eyes, and whispered for her to meet him there. She had looked fearful, but nodded.
He was unsure if she would come. But here she was now, hesitantly walking toward him.
“Jean.” Her name sounded like a jewel in his ears.
“I can’t stay long,” she whispered, glancing around her. “Aggie has only given me a short time. And people may see.”
“So what if they see?” He frowned.
“Oh, you know what people are like.” She smiled at him. “They gossip. I wouldn’t want silly talk to get back to your betrothed.”
“Let them say what they want.” He reached out and took her hand, bending low to kiss it.
Jean felt a slow warmth spreading through her.
He straightened, looking at her.
He didn’t know how it happened, just that it must. It was as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning, or the swell of the tides against the shoreline.
He pulled her against him, claiming her lips.
They were as sweet as honey. His hands found her hair, absently ripping off the cap she wore. Her beautiful red hair came tumbling down, filling his hands like yards of silk.
The kiss deepened. She moved against him. He could feel the thud of her heart against his chest.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered, as he broke the kiss.
Jean looked up at him, in wonder.
“You really think so?” she whispered back. “Even like this?” She gestured to her plain gown and apron.
“Even like this,” he repeated.
She smiled for a moment, and then slowly frowned.
“It isn’t possible.” She stepped away from him. “You are the laird’s son. I am just a kitchen maid.”
“It is possible,” he said, reaching for her hand again. “I don’t care what you are. I have never felt like this before.”
“But what of the Lady Janet?”
“She is a cold woman,” he answered. “Vain and haughty. I care not a jolt for her.”
“And yet you must marry her.” She hung her head.
He felt his hands tighten into fists. “They say that I must. But I cannot – I cannot…”
Jean looked at him sadly.
“We all must do our duty,” she whispered. “I mustn’t come between that. Everyone would disapprove. It is not the way of things in our world. A kitchen maid cannot be with the laird’s son.”
“Why not?” he flared up. “Just because it is usually not done, why can’t it happen?”
Jean looked at him, raising one hand to stroke his face.
“Goodbye,” she whispered, turning and running from him.
“Jean!” He called her name, but she didn’t turn her head.
He stood rooted to the spot, hanging his head.
From the veranda above, Janet gazed down.
She had seen it all. The kitchen maid coming to him, and the kiss. His soft tender words to her. Then the girl turning and running.
How sweet, thought Janet, smiling to herself. Love’s first blossoming.
Not if she had anything to do with it.
Chapter Ten
She tried. She had really tried.
Jean thought back over the last few days since the banquet and everything that had happened.
She had meant what she said to Alan that day in the garden – they were as mismatched as two people could possibly be. They had to think of their duties, and everyone else around them. No one would be cheering for them, wanting them to be together. The very opposite. If anyone knew, they would be horrified.
His folk, and her own. Everyone in the castle.
People knew their place; even if they bemoaned their life, they took comfort from knowing where they stood in the world. A laird was a laird. And a farrier’s daughter, who worked as a kitchen skivvy, had to know her place as well.
She had meant it, at the time.
But he was persistent, making excuses to come into the kitchen to see her. This was unusual; Alan had rarely entered the kitchen before. Aggie had looked at him the first time as if a wild deer had suddenly walked in. Her eyes had widened like saucers.
He followed her when she left the castle after her working day was done, climbing the familiar track to her family’s little cottage beside the loch.
He had kissed her again beside the loch, taking her in his arms and whispering words of endearment to her. She had melted like ice on a hot summer’s day in his arms.
“Jean,” he had said to her, burying his face in her hair. “I must tell you. I cannot think of anything but you. As soon as my eyes open in the morning, I see your face before me.” He tilted her face up with his hands, so that she was staring into his blue eyes.
“I love you,” he breathed. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”
Her heart had stopped, for a moment. “I love you, too,” she whispered, barely able to speak the words.
It was amazing. It was more than she had ever hoped for, in this life.
It was also wrong.
She had left him that day, after their declaration of love to each other, skipping into the cottage as if she was a little girl again. Her mother had been there, stoking the fire.
She turned, and looked at her daughter, eyes ablaze and flushed with the first sweet stirrings of love.
Brenda had known, straight away.
“Jean,” she said. “Come and sit with me. We have to talk.”
Jean had complied, taking a seat next to her mother. She was still, in her mind, beside the loch with Alan whispering that he loved her.
“My sweet lassie, it has to stop.”
Jean turned sharply to her mother, her lovely mood evaporating instantly.
“I know what yo
u are doing,” her mother continued. “You are seeing the laird’s son, in a manner that is not appropriate. He is not for you, Jean. He is betrothed to another, but besides, he is way above you. There is no hope that he would ever make you his wife.”
Jean stiffened. “You don’t know that! He has said that he loves me.”
Brenda’s eyes widened. “He goes too far,” she hissed. “Playing with you, like you are a piece on a chess board. I know men, my lassie. He only says it to get one thing, believe me.”
Jean shook her head wildly. “No, Mama, you are wrong! He really does love me.” She took a deep breath. “And I love him, too.”
“Oh, Jean, you are dazzled! Any lassie would be…”
“No.” Jean stood up, agitated. “It is real, and true. He is not saying it just to woo me to lift my dress for him. He is a gentleman.”
Brenda shook her head. “A gentleman he may be, Jean, but he is still a man. There is no possibility of him being honorable with you. He is betrothed to Lady Janet. He must marry her – his family insists. And what will you be to him, when he does? Do you intend to be his mistress, bringing shame on your family?”
Jean’s eyes widened in horror, and she burst into tears, crossing herself.
“There, there, my Jean.” Her mother’s arms were around her, hugging her tightly. “I know you are a good girl and would never do such a thing. That is why you must cease all contact with him, immediately. He might lead you into doing things you do not want, out of love for him.”
Jean continued to weep quietly, laying her head on her mother’s shoulder.
“I do remember what it is like, to be young and in love.” Brenda smiled ruefully. “It is the most amazing feeling in the world. And when you love the right man, it is wonderful. But he is not the right man for you, my love.”
Jean started to quiet, sobbing sporadically.
“The next time he contacts you, you must tell him.” Brenda’s voice hardened. “It is for the best, for both of you. You will see the truth of what I say in the fullness of time, my lassie.”
Jean closed her eyes, still resting her head on Brenda’s shoulder.
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