Free Amanda Scott by Knights Treasure

because Adela’s abductor had taken her from the Highlands with no more than the blue wedding dress and linen shift she had worn the first time she had tried to marry Ardelve. Thanks to the countess and the countess’s seamstress, she did have her golden velvet wedding dress and one other, a fine tawny silk gown with bands of colorful embroidery to decorate its hem, deep neckline, and the edge of each sleeve.
    Ten minutes later, heading to the great hall to break her fast at the high table, she warned herself that it might take effort to maintain her resolve and remain civil. Thus, she hesitated on the threshold when she saw that Isabella, Lady Clendenen, Isobel, Sorcha, and Sidony had all lingered at the table, chatting together.
    She knew they had likely been discussing her, deciding amongst themselves just what she should do. None seemed to notice her right away, though, so she drew a breath to steady her nerves and moved quietly toward them.
    Except for two gillies dismantling the last of the trestles in the lower hall, no men were present. But as she neared the dais, her father entered the lower hall from the stairway in the southeast corner that led to the main entrance a half-floor below.
    “Hold there, lass,” he said in his loud, blustery way, bringing conversation at the high table to a halt. “I want a word wi’ ye.”
    “Aye, sir,” she said. Turning to face him, she was aware that every eye at the high table had turned their way. She knew, too, that every ear strained now to hear what he would say to her.
    Macleod was a large, robust man with a large, robust voice and an unpredictable temper. But he smiled and put a hand on her shoulder as he said, “I’m pleased to see ye up and about. Ye mustna shut yourself away.”
    “I’ve no intention of doing that, sir,” she said, keeping her voice low despite the surge of annoyance she felt when she realized that he must have discussed her with Lady Clendenen. “I know my duty, Father,” she added clearly.
    “Aye, ye do,” he agreed. “’Tis one o’ your most admirable traits. By my troth, lass, I ken fine that I can depend on ye to do as ye ought.”
    “I hope so, sir, although I own that I do not know yet what that may be. Mayhap you, too, have advice for me.”
    When he glanced at the high table, fidgeting, she knew exactly what he would say and nearly sighed in her vexation when the prediction proved true.
    “Bless ye, lass,” he said. “Ye ought to stay right here at Roslin wi’ your sisters and … and others ye can trust to ha’ your best interest at heart.”
    “Indeed, sir, do you not think Ardelve’s family may take offense if I do not accompany his body home? Surely, they’ll expect me to.”
    “Sakes, they dinna ken that the man be dead, so they’ll expect nowt o’ ye.”
    Exerting patience as she so often had to do to avoid rousing his temper, she said, “They’ll learn of his death soon enough, because word of such things travels faster than coffins do. Will they not expect me to accompany his funeral train?”
    “Ealga—that is to say, Lady Clendenen—will attend to them if they do expect such,” he said, glancing again at the high table. “She’ll send her own message, telling Fergus she’s invited ye to stay wi’ her.”
    Adela fought a familiar urge to agree to whatever he said, if only to end the discussion. But she knew she could not submit so easily, not if she was to hold her own against them all. Right or wrong, if she was not to lose what freedom she had, she had to choose for herself the course her life would take.
    Therefore, deciding that she might as well make her case to the others as she made it to him, she said in a tone that would reach the dais, “I am grateful for Lady Clendenen’s invitation, Father, but much as I appreciate everyone’s advice, I will decide for myself what to do.”
    The heavy frown returned. “D’ye think that’s wise, lass? Ye shouldna reject the opportunity her ladyship