Amanda Scott by Abducted Heiress Page B

said,
     returning the smile. “Ye’ve spent most of your life amongst them who want only your happiness. Ye may not find that at Eilean
     Donan.”
    “Then I shall write to King James and command him to return me to you,” Molly said with a saucy grin.
    “Aye, and I wish ye could do that,” Lady Mackinnon said with sudden dampness glistening on her eyelashes.
    Seeing those tears, Molly experienced a sense of loss and wondered if they indicated that her foster mother might have welcomed
     a closer relationship had Molly but let her know she wanted one. Deciding that to ponder such a possibility would lead only
     to more grief, she said, “You are very kindhearted, madam. I pray only that Kintail may prove to be half as kind to me.”
    “I, too,” Lady Mackinnon said, wiping her tears away. “Doreen,” she added more briskly, turning to the maidservant, who was
     folding clothing from a pile on the bed, “I’ll leave ye now, but do ye see to finishing Mistress Molly’s mending straightaway.
     We canna ha’ our lass taking shabby garments to Eilean Donan.”
    “Aye, my lady, I’ll see to it,” Doreen said complacently.
    “Never mind the mending, Doreen,” Molly said as soon as the door had shut behind her ladyship. “Order me a bath, and then
     fetch the red velvet gown I wore at Christmas, the one with the sable trimming round the wrists and hem.”
    “Mistress, ye’ll never wear that to supper,” Doreen protested. “It be far too grand, that gown! Recall that the laird did
     say that, by the sumpter laws, that sable should be worn only on truly festive occasions.”
    Dismissing the warning with a careless gesture, Molly said, “I am feeling festive. That devil Kintail ordered me to wear blue
     to the midday meal, and when I wore yellow instead, he declared that he was permitting it only because he feared I had not
     known that he meant his request as a command. I am to wear blue to supper now, if you please.”
    “Then mayhap the blue silk with the embroidered trim, mistress. That gown becomes ye well, I think.”
    “Aye, it does, but Kintail will not see it. I shall begin as I mean to go on, Doreen. That man will not call the tune for
     my dancing. The red, if you please. Shake it out well and brush it. I must look my best, for I want him to see that he has
     more than a meek little miss to deal with.”
    She washed everything that showed, and when Doreen helped her don the elegant, fur-trimmed crimson gown, Molly shook out the
     skirts with a chuckle. Seeing the maid-servant’s disapproving look, she said, “Fear not. He cannot murder me, and he must
     learn straightaway that I am no ewe for his shearing. He may do as he pleases with my fortune if he can find and hold on to
     it.”
    “Ha’ ye truly got a grand fortune, mistress? What would it be, and all?”
    “Heaven knows,” Molly said with feeling. “Her ladyship says I do, that men have searched every stick and stone at Dunsithe,
     trying to find it. She said Donald keeps men-at-arms there to guard it, lest someone else find what he has not. At least that
     may change now that Kintail has thrust himself upon us. He claims to have little interest in my fortune, but he would be an
     odd sort of man if that were true.”
    “Aye,” Doreen said quietly. “Men be ever a greedy lot.”
    Realizing from the tone of her voice that Doreen was not speaking now about Kintail or Donald, and being in no mood to indulge
     the girl’s personal troubles, Molly said, “I shall wear my silver pomander. Fetch it, please.”
    “Aye, mistress.” Doreen hastened to do her bidding, and while she did, Molly dabbed onto her wrists and into the hollow of
     her throat some of the lily-scented French perfume that Mackinnon had given her for Christmas. Had anyone asked why she bothered,
     she would have said that she liked its scent. That it would compete with the scent of cloves from her pomander did not trouble
     her in the least.
    Her thoughts darted ahead