Page 29 of A Virgin for the Stone Highlander
They stopped in front of the seamstress’s shop, and Aaron dismounted first, his feet landing heavily on the dirt. Then he helped Edith down from her horse, steadying her without a word.
The seamstress greeted them the moment they entered the shop, her eyes widening almost immediately in recognition.
“Me Laird,” she greeted, dipping into a respectful curtsy. “How may I help ye?” Her eyes flicked toward Edith, sharp with poorly hidden curiosity.
Aaron did not hesitate. “A gown,” he said evenly. “For me betrothed.”
The seamstress blinked once, before her entire face brightened with interest. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Of course.”
She circled Edith slowly, studying her with a sharp eye without touching at first.
“A fine figure,” she murmured thoughtfully.
Aaron folded his arms, watching in silence.
Edith stood still, her face perfectly composed as the seamstress examined her. He could see the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands curled slightly at her sides.
She did not belong in places like this. Not amongst silks and fittings and the quiet scrutiny of women who spent their days discussing embroidery. And yet she held herself with surprising steadiness.
The seamstress brought out several folded fabrics, speaking quickly as she held up different colors to Edith’s cheeks.
“Clan colors,” Aaron interjected. “Nothing excessive.”
The seamstress nodded. “Aye, me Laird.” Then she stepped closer to Edith and began taking her measurements with a ruler.
Aaron’s gaze lingered on Edith as she worked.
For appearances’ sake, he reminded himself.An engaged man is expected to watch his future wife with interest.
And yet, standing there, watching Edith beneath the soft light in the shop, he found himself thinking things far less practical and far more dangerous. Like the way her lips parted slightly when the seamstress adjusted the ruler beneath her arms.
Hell.
He straightened slightly, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“If ye have everything ye need,” he said abruptly, turning toward the seamstress, “we shall be on our way.”
The seamstress blinked, clearly startled.
“I’m already done, me Laird,” she said quickly, removing the ruler from Edith’s bosom.
“Good. I shall send someone to pick up the gown a week from now.”
CHAPTER TEN
It was as though she were dreaming.
Edith stood outside the door to Martin’s chamber, her hand hovering over the wood. Her eyes almost watered as she lifted her knuckles to knock. She was about to begin her first official lesson on the art of healing, and her heart could not have been more full.
A strange warmth spread through her chest as she swallowed, releasing a nervous breath before rapping softly against the door.
She stilled, waiting for a moment, before pushing the door slightly open.
Gracious…
Her breath caught as she stepped into the vast chamber, hesitant at first. The scent was the first thing that hit her—dried herbs.
Her shoulders relaxed as she inhaled the distinct scents of rosemary and lavender, mixed in with a few other smells she could not quite decipher. It was strong but not unpleasant. Not even close.
