Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

The chamber Catalina and Anastasia had been allotted for their stay at Castle MacLeod was, both girls agreed, very comfortable. It was roomy, with space for a bed each, and it had apricot-colored velvet curtains at the windows and hanging from the bed posts, to keep out the cold and drafts. The pretty furniture was in the French style, and there were thick rugs on the floor. A fire blazed in the grate to hold back the chill of the April nights, its warm, amber glow reflected in a full-length looking glass.

The room was presently in a state of fragrant feminine disorder as the sisters prepared for the betrothal party with the help of the two maids who had been assigned to them. Betty was a short, buxom, dark-haired lass with an infectious laugh and cornflower blue eyes.

Lena was younger, tall and slender, a little shy, with auburn hair and grey eyes. It seemed to Catalina that the pair were thrilled with their new assignment, for they had not stopped smiling, talking, and laughing since they had arrived with the bathwater a couple of hours before.

Now, they were gleefully putting the finishing touches to their new mistresses’ toilettes. It soon became obvious that Lena excelled at styling hair. She had just finished putting half of Catalina’s long brown tresses up into a sophisticated twist atop her head, while curling the back hair into ringlets with heated tongs and leaving them to flow artfully down to her waist.

“Och, ye look a picture, Miss Catalina,” the lass said happily, standing behind Catalina at the dressing table and frankly admiring the reflection of her own handiwork in the mirror.

“Ye’ve done wonders with it, Lena, thank ye,” Catalina told her with a pleased smile, resisting the urge to stroke the ringlets. “I hardly recognize mesel’.”

“And I love what ye’ve done with mine too, Lena,” Anastasia said from where she was leaning against the bedpost while Betty laced her stays. “I hope that after I’m married and come to live here, ye’ll always come and dae me hair fer me.” Her long blonde tresses had been plaited into two thick plaits and wound around the front part of her head and firmly pinned to framed her features perfectly, with the rest left to tumble down her back in golden waves.

“I think that’s as tight as I dare get them without killin’ ye, Miss Anastasia,” Betty said, holding the strings of the stays rightly.

“Aye, that’ll dae, Betty, thank ye. Any tighter and I’ll nae be able tae breathe let alone eat a thing at me own betrothal party,” Anastasia said with a small laugh as the maid tied off the strings and straightened her mistress’ embroidered shift. “Now, where are those petticoats?”

The preparations continued until the two sisters were finally standing fully dressed before the full-length glass, staring at their reflections in amazement, while Betty and Lena hovered behind them.

The maids had brought with them two sets of jewels, gifts for the sisters from the laird and his lady. Now, the diamonds glittered at their ears and throats, dazzling as they reflected the firelight. Their beautiful, low-necked gowns, Anastasia’s ice-blue and Catalina’s willow-green, had been especially made for this occasion back at home.

“Look at us, Ana, we look like two fashionable ladies from the royal court,” Catalina exclaimed, marveling at her shapely figure and plunging neckline. As fashion dictated, the top halves of her breasts were compressed together and peeped pertly out of their lacy surroundings like Christmastide peaches wrapped in tissue paper. “I’ve never felt so feminine and sophisticated in me life.”

“Aye, me neither,” her sister agreed. She glanced at the maids in the mirror. “Ye two lassies deserve a medal.”

“Well, Miss Anastasia, ye’ll likely only ever have one engagement party, so ye may as well push the boat out, eh?” Betty put in.

“Aye, I suppose ye’re right. I just hope I look as good as this on me weddin’ day,” Anastasia remarked, revolving once more in front of the mirror as if she could not quite believe the girl, she was looking at was her. But only Catalina heard the edge of sadness in her sister’s voice and wondered what the cause of it was—apart from being forced to marry a stranger, of course.

“Well, I cannae thank ye enough fer all yer hard work tonight, girls,” Anastasia told them with a smile, turning away from the mirror and looking at the clock on the mantel. “Och, ’tis time tae go down. Are ye ready, Cat?”

“Aye, I’m ready,” Catalina replied, not sure how she felt about the forthcoming party. Part of her was excited; the rest was filled with nervous tension. The reason was because she had decided she must make a proper apology to Ivar at the dinner table, in front of his family. She could only hope he would accept, for Anastasia’s sake.

Before the maids had arrived earlier, the sisters had had a conversation that had convinced her a fulsome, public apology was necessary.

“That was very embarrassin’ today, Cat, ye railin’ at Ivar like that in front of his family,” Anastasia had begun.

Cat had felt guilty and hung her head. “I ken. I’m sorry, Ana. I could nae believe me eyes when I saw he was the man from the woods. Me anger, well, it all just burst out.”

“Like it burst out when ye kicked him in the head last night?”

“I dinnae go around kickin’ folks in the head for nae reason, Ana. I really thought he was tryin’ tae kill the fawn. How could I have kent he was yer betrothed? It was just awfully bad luck, an unfortunate coincidence, that’s all.”

“Ye really hurt him. He was really dizzy at times, he looked dazed. And did ye see the size of the lump on his head?”

Catalina shook her head, grimacing with shame. “I didnae get that close.” She paused for a moment and then asked, “What d’ye think of him, yer soon-tae-be husband?”

Anastasia thought for a few moments. “He’s very handsome. He was polite tae me and quite kind. But there’s somethin’ about him, somethin’ I cannae put me finger on. A sadness. A sort of darkness inside him. But I suppose it is that he’s nae too happy with havin’ tae wed me.”

“Pish, ’tis more likely he disnae want tae get wed at all, and ’tis naethin’ tae dae with ye. If ye had the choice, ye’d nae be marryin’ him, would ye?”

“True. But I dinnae ken him at all. We’re strangers just now. Aye, I suppose he must feel about the same as I do. Unsure if it’s all goin’ tae work out between us,” Anastasia said wistfully. “Tonight will let us get tae ken each other a bit more, so I’m hopin’. Then, we’ll see. But there’s nae goin’ back anyway.”

“Unless we run away,” Catalina reminded her, still prepared to defy the king’s command and damn the consequences. She felt a flash of the familiar anger on her sister’s behalf.

“Och, shut up!” Anastasia told her. “I’m nae runnin’ anywhere. I must dae me duty. Anyway, I like the rest of the family. The men are frightenin’ tae look at but really quite nice. And the women are lovely. I have tae dae me best tae make things work with Ivar. If I can, then I think I could be happy here.”

“I hope so, Ana, even though I’m going tae miss ye terribly,” Catalina told her sadly. “I just want ye tae be happy.”

“I ken ye dae, Cat. And if ye really mean it, then would ye please try yer best tae make things right with Ivar this evenin’ at the party? I ken ye apologized before, but it was nae much of an apology, was it? Ye didnae sound as if ye meant it at all.”

“I did, but I was so mortified at finding out his real intentions and that I’d been such a fool, I could hardly speak,” Catalina confessed.

“All right, that’s fair enough. But tonight, can ye apologize properly, let him see how sorry ye really are, that it was all a terrible misunderstandin’? Will ye dae that fer me?”

“I had already decided tae dae it anyway.”

“’Tis important tae me that ye two get on with each other. I want ye tae be able tae come and stay with me often, and it would help if ye could be friends. I couldnae bear it if Ivar banned ye from visitin’ me.”

That touched Catalina deeply. “Neither could I. I’ll nae let that happen, Ana, I promise ye.”

At that, Anastasia had smiled and patted her hand. “That’s all right then.”

And that had been the end of it.

Now, it was time to go downstairs and face Ivar, so she steeled herself as she and Anastasia left the chamber and were escorted to the great hall, where the party was being held, by an excited Betty and Lena.

When they entered, Catalina was slightly taken aback to find the place already packed with guests. Every table on the vast floor was filled with people, all dressed in their party finery. They stood up as the sisters entered and cheered and applauded.

“That’s quite a welcome,” Catalina whispered to Anastasia. She realized her sister was feeling rather overwhelmed for all her poise, for she gripped Catalina’s hand tightly in hers as she curtseyed in acknowledgement of the greeting. Then, like a genie, Stirling appeared in front of them. The steward bowed low.

“Good evening, me ladies. Please allow me tae escort ye tae the laird’s table.

“Aye, thank ye, Mr. Stirling,” Anastasia replied, following him, still clutching Catalina’s hand as they walked up the central aisle to thunderous applause, to where the laird’s table stood on its raised dais at the far end.

As they walked along, Catalina tried to take her mind off her growing nervousness by looking around the hall. It was exactly what one would expect to find in an ancient castle, with two vast hearths, one on either side of the room, a vaulted stone ceiling soaring above them, and between the large arched windows, the walls were filled with clan memorabilia, coats of arms, displays of ancient weapons, paintings and tapestries.

However, the forbidding space was relieved by a mass of pretty decorations put up for the occasion, with banners and pennants, garlands of greenery, wreaths of colorful ribbons, and flowers winding artfully around the walls and fat stone columns. Fresh flowers seemed to be everywhere, filling the air with their sweet scent.

“’Tis beautiful,” she whispered to her sister as they drew near to the Laird’s table.

“Aye, it is,” Anastasia agreed with a little wobble in her voice.

“Are ye all right, Ana?” Catalina was concerned at the crack in her sister’s usual aplomb.

“Aye, ’tis just a wee bit overwhelming tae think all this is fer me,”

Anastasia confessed. “I’m nae used tae such a fuss.”

“Well, I’m afraid tae tell ye that ye’re going tae have tae get used tae it from now on, sister,” Catalina reassured her with a smile. If she were not faced with the unpleasant task of apologizing to Ivar, she knew she would have been thoroughly enjoying the warm welcome.

But this is about Anastasia and nae me.

“Aye, I suppose so,” Anastasia agreed, smiling graciously left and right.

“Ye can see how happy yer new clan is tae greet ye. ’Tis clear they’re all lookin’ forward tae the weddin’ and approve of ye as their new Lady MacLeod. That’s grand, is it nae?” Catalina whispered.

“Aye, it is, to be sure,” her sister replied, her smiles and nods belying the note of sorrow Catalina heard in her voice.

“Hey, I just noticed Dunstan’s nae here,” Catalina said, scanning the throng for a glimpse of their friend and protector. “He was awful quiet at luncheon. He hardly said a word. Is he all right?” Their friend had indeed been noticeably subdued at the table, although he had remained a brooding presence.

“I dinnae ken,” Anastasia said, her voice just audible over the sound of applause and cheering.

“Shouldnae he be here? Is he late? Where is he?”

“He’s nae late. He’s nae comin’. He decided he needed to stay on guard duty with the other soldiers. He said he would try tae join us fer a while later on,” Anastasia explained with a hint of dismay in her voice.

“That’s strange. The laird made him very welcome. I would have thought he’d want tae be here tae wish ye and Ivar well,” Catalina mused, rather puzzled by Dunstan’s voluntary absence. But she had noticed that the usually good-natured soldier’s demeanor had been growing increasingly gloomier as the trip went on.

She had little chance to ponder the matter further, for Stirling was showing them up the steps to the dais, and the Macleod family, which was gathered there, was waiting for them. All of them were standing to greet the sisters formally, Catalina supposed for the benefit of the collected clansfolk who had come to celebrate the betrothal of their laird to his new lady. Based on her limited experience, she expected that after dinner, there would be the usual formal announcement of the match to the masses, followed by toasts to Anastasia’s health and good fortune as well as those of the happy couple.

While the family began to take their seats, for some reason, Catalina’s eyes immediately sought Ivar. To her surprise, he was looking at her. Flustered, she quickly looked away, and at the same time, she noticed he did too. He looked incredibly handsome and imposing in his kilt and a wine-colored jacket with silver embroidery setting off the lace at the collar and cuffs.

Strange flickers of heat warmed her belly as she watched him address her sister, directing a charming bow, a warm smile, and a welcoming hand to his bride-to-be. “Will ye take a seat, Anastasia?” he asked kindly in his deep, rumbling voice.

“Och, I will, thank ye, Ivar,” Anastasia replied, taking his hand and shooting him a smile as he pulled out her chair and helped her to take her place before sitting next to her. Catalina had to wait for Arne to assist her before she was seated diametrically across from the couple again, between Dahlia and Arne.

“Ye look lovely, Anastasia. That’s a very pretty gown ye have on,” she heard Ivar tell Anastasia. “And yer hair looks beautiful. I’m honored tae have ye sittin’ next tae me as me betrothed.” He smiled at her as he took up her hand and pressed a small kiss to it. Catalina shifted in her seat; something about the kiss made her feel very uncomfortable, though she could not have said what it was.

“Why, thank ye, Ivar,” Anastasia said in her sweet voice.

Catalina watched her sister blush. The pale pink flush on her cheekbones only made Anastasia more beautiful in her eyes. Yet Catalina thought she glimpsed something other than gratitude in her sister’s gaze as she gracefully accepted Ivar’s compliment.

There was something hesitant about Anastasia’s whole demeanor, but she could only guess what it was. Catalina recalled her sister’s claim that she sensed a darkness somewhere deep inside the stranger she was betrothed to marry.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Anastasia, who was so sensitive to the moods of others, was once again sensing that darkness within Ivar, and it was troubling her. If that was the case, then she had to concur that it did not bode well for a happy union.