Alasdair grunted. “They had better do, or else we will keep dancing in circles.”
Finn smiled faintly. “Well, I say give them the dance. At least at first.”
Before Alasdair could answer, the door creaked open.
One of the maids stepped in, bowing low. “Lady MacRay, me Laird.”
Alasdair lifted his head, frowning. “Let her in.”
The maid curtsied once more, then slipped aside.
And there she was.
Lily entered the dining hall with her chin high, her hair braided in shining coils, and her gown…
Alasdair’s lips parted.
That gown.
It was the dull grey gown he had set aside with others and told the maids to return to the seamstress at once. The color dulled her skin, and it was too tight in places and too loose in others. He had thought it unworthy of her. And yet she wore it like armor.
“Lily,” he said, his voice low. “How did ye?—”
“Daisy told me there were dresses ye thought would look unflattering. So, naturally, I asked her to bring all of them. Ye daenae mind, do ye?”
His jaw tightened. “Lily, there are several other gowns ye could have chosen.”
“I am aware,” she replied, her voice cool and sharp. “And I chose this one.”
Alasdair drew in a long breath through his nose and sat back, saying no more.
She was taunting him, that much he was aware of. He wouldn’t give in to her. At least not now.
Her eyes shifted then, away from him, and landed on Finn. Alasdair watched as a smile split her face.
“God, ye have grown,” she remarked, beaming.
Finn burst out laughing. “Ye are one to speak. Ye couldnae look older if ye tried.”
She laughed, her voice rich. “It has been ten years, Finn. Ye can tell me plainly that ye see some age on me face. I can take it.”
“If I said such a thing, it would be a lie,” Finn answered with a grin.
She shook her head, laughing again.
The sound grated in Alasdair’s chest. He had been trying for days to make her laugh. Not one smile had come soft and free. But here, with Finn, it took no more than a handful of words, and she bloomed.
He told himself it did not matter, yet something burned inside him all the same.
The maid came forward then, placing the bread and coffee on the table. Lily slipped into the seat across from him as though it were her rightful place—knowingit was her rightful place—and reached for the bread, still smiling.
“Daenae forget the meetin’,” Alasdair reminded her as he broke his bread in half. “The council will arrive before noon.”
She lifted her cup, sipped the coffee, and gave a brief nod. “I will make time and come when they are here.”
“I will expect ye to change as well,” he pressed.
Her eyes flicked to him. “And what is wrong with what I am wearin’?”
