about them still showed the ravages of the recent border wars with England, although the farther west they went, the less damage had been done. Much of the land was desolate and lonely. The weather was chilly but not unbearable.
Finally, on what Matthew Ferguson promised would be the last day of their journey, the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. There was a tang to the air that grew stronger as they traveled. It was a fresh and clean smell, such as Annabella had never known. The horses seemed lively. When she asked about this new scent in the air, Matthew told her that it was the smell of the sea.
“I’ve never seen the sea,” Annabella admitted. “Is it like a loch? Is it big?”
“Endless,” was her answer.
“Beautiful and dangerous,” Jean added.
“How far are we from Duin?” the bride asked her escorts.
Matthew looked about him, then to his sister. “About two hours,” he said.
“Aye,” Jean agreed. “We must stop soon so that Annabella can change into her gown. A different saddle must be placed upon Snow. The countess must greet her new husband as the lady she is, Matthew.”
“There’s a grove of trees on the hill before we reach the castle road. That should allow me time to send a man to Duin so that Angus knows we’re arriving, and give the lady a chance to change her garments,” he said.
“I know the place ye mean,” Jean said. It was about half an hour’s ride from Duin.
They finally reached the designated spot. A rider broke away from the group, galloping away down the road, while the men-at-arms took the time to dismount, relieve themselves, and rest their horses. Matthew took Snow off to replace her saddle with a sidesaddle, which was more appropriate to a woman in skirts. Jean led Annabella deep into the grove so she might have her privacy while she changed from her traveling clothes into her wedding gown. Annabella fretted that her best gown would stink of horse.
“Ye’ll not be wearing it that long,” Jean assured her. “I’ll air it afterward.”
“I’ll need a bath after all this time on the road,” Annabella said. “I stink of both horse and my own sweat too. I wish I didn’t have to meet the earl until after I was bathed and my hair washed so ’twould be fresh and clean.” She sighed as Jean pulled off her boots. “What a grand impression I shall make upon yer poor brother. Plain as mud and smelling of horse to boot.” She shook her head in despair as she stood up in her stockinged feet and drew off her breeks.
Jean had to laugh at the picture her companion had painted. “I know,” she said. “It’s a difficult position ye’ve been put into, my lady, but my brother Angus is not a man faint of heart. Nor is he stupid. He will understand, and he will make you feel quite assured of yerself; I promise ye.”
“Jean, I am not some wretched lass impressed by her own importance. For all the circumstances of yer birth, we are kinswomen now. I want ye to call me Annabella. I am not used to being ‘my lady.’ It is too formal between us.”
“Thank ye,” Jean Ferguson said. “In private we shall call each other by name, but in public you will receive the respect due my brother’s wife as Countess of Duin, Annabella, and be ‘my lady.’ ” Jean had quickly come to like this young woman. There was no artifice about her. If her brother was as wise as she had always thought him to be, Annabella’s lack of physical beauty would not disturb him once he came to know her.
Now dressed but for her embroidered bodice, Annabella sat upon a small folding stool that had traveled with them, while Jean brushed out her long dark hair, then fixed it into an elegant chignon that quite suited Annabella’s oval face. Then, helping her mistress into her bodice and lacing it up, Jean set a small light gray velvet cap with a narrow pointed eagle’s feather upon the girl’s head. The feather was held by the Baird clan badge, which had an eagle’s head in the
Finally, on what Matthew Ferguson promised would be the last day of their journey, the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. There was a tang to the air that grew stronger as they traveled. It was a fresh and clean smell, such as Annabella had never known. The horses seemed lively. When she asked about this new scent in the air, Matthew told her that it was the smell of the sea.
“I’ve never seen the sea,” Annabella admitted. “Is it like a loch? Is it big?”
“Endless,” was her answer.
“Beautiful and dangerous,” Jean added.
“How far are we from Duin?” the bride asked her escorts.
Matthew looked about him, then to his sister. “About two hours,” he said.
“Aye,” Jean agreed. “We must stop soon so that Annabella can change into her gown. A different saddle must be placed upon Snow. The countess must greet her new husband as the lady she is, Matthew.”
“There’s a grove of trees on the hill before we reach the castle road. That should allow me time to send a man to Duin so that Angus knows we’re arriving, and give the lady a chance to change her garments,” he said.
“I know the place ye mean,” Jean said. It was about half an hour’s ride from Duin.
They finally reached the designated spot. A rider broke away from the group, galloping away down the road, while the men-at-arms took the time to dismount, relieve themselves, and rest their horses. Matthew took Snow off to replace her saddle with a sidesaddle, which was more appropriate to a woman in skirts. Jean led Annabella deep into the grove so she might have her privacy while she changed from her traveling clothes into her wedding gown. Annabella fretted that her best gown would stink of horse.
“Ye’ll not be wearing it that long,” Jean assured her. “I’ll air it afterward.”
“I’ll need a bath after all this time on the road,” Annabella said. “I stink of both horse and my own sweat too. I wish I didn’t have to meet the earl until after I was bathed and my hair washed so ’twould be fresh and clean.” She sighed as Jean pulled off her boots. “What a grand impression I shall make upon yer poor brother. Plain as mud and smelling of horse to boot.” She shook her head in despair as she stood up in her stockinged feet and drew off her breeks.
Jean had to laugh at the picture her companion had painted. “I know,” she said. “It’s a difficult position ye’ve been put into, my lady, but my brother Angus is not a man faint of heart. Nor is he stupid. He will understand, and he will make you feel quite assured of yerself; I promise ye.”
“Jean, I am not some wretched lass impressed by her own importance. For all the circumstances of yer birth, we are kinswomen now. I want ye to call me Annabella. I am not used to being ‘my lady.’ It is too formal between us.”
“Thank ye,” Jean Ferguson said. “In private we shall call each other by name, but in public you will receive the respect due my brother’s wife as Countess of Duin, Annabella, and be ‘my lady.’ ” Jean had quickly come to like this young woman. There was no artifice about her. If her brother was as wise as she had always thought him to be, Annabella’s lack of physical beauty would not disturb him once he came to know her.
Now dressed but for her embroidered bodice, Annabella sat upon a small folding stool that had traveled with them, while Jean brushed out her long dark hair, then fixed it into an elegant chignon that quite suited Annabella’s oval face. Then, helping her mistress into her bodice and lacing it up, Jean set a small light gray velvet cap with a narrow pointed eagle’s feather upon the girl’s head. The feather was held by the Baird clan badge, which had an eagle’s head in the
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