Elinor sat silently while Gavina gathered three strands of her hair and twisted them into a long, thick braid. The girl then draped the braid across the crown of Elinor’s head and used a pin emblazoned with the MacCameron crest to secure it behind her ear.
She usually enjoyed Gavina’s ministrations. The maid had a knack for turning Elinor’s limp hair into a work of art. But the bit of pampering did nothing to boost Elinor’s mood. Not when she absolutely detested the reason for all this adornment.
“Are you excited about tonight, Princess?” Gavina asked as she pulled several auburn ringlets down to frame Elinor’s face. Her voice was bright with the enthusiasm of someone who had viewed Elinor’s situation only with romanticized notions. As a young servant, Gavina undoubtedly saw Elinor’s impending betrothal as something to envy, instead of something to dread.
“I am…” Elinor could not think of an appropriate word that would not give away her true feelings. “Somewhat nervous,” she finally settled on.
“I bet you are. I would be, too,” Gavina said. “The fella you’re promised to is quite handsome. He’s gonna make a fine husband, don’t you think?”
Elinor tried to summon a smile, but her lips refused to complete the action. After her run-in with Lachlan this afternoon, the thought of sitting at the table with him, wondering if he would bring up Fergus, caused a dizzying panic.
She’d considered feigning some sort of ailment that would prevent her from joining them—a stomachache, maybe. But a mere stomachache would not be enough in Queen Catriona’s eyes. She would expect Elinor to suffer through it.
Indeed, this entire night was bound to be one that brought much suffering to her, even if Lachlan did not mention the fire incident. Yet Gavina thought Elinor should feel excited? How could she possibly be excited to dine with a man she barely knew, but who would have control over her life in just a few months’ time?
He will not control your life. You will be gone long before that comes to pass.
Despite her fierce determination, her stomach tightened with a sickening feeling. She would not allow herself to imagine an existence where she lived as the matriarch of Clan Fraser or any of the other surrounding clans. She was a MacCameron, and a MacCameron she would remain until she decided if she wanted to marry.
And if she did marry, it would never be to Lachlan Fraser.
Elinor had met the lad only a few other times over the past nineteen years, and what she had seen of him she detested. He was an arrogant, entitled boor of a man who walked around as if he was a gift to the earth.
What made it worse was the way the rest of the lasses fawned over him. Gavina’s giddiness was nothing compared to some of the others’. Elinor would never understand what anyone found appealing about that arrogant man. She would rather marry a goat. Or Fergus DunBroch.
What? No, you would not rather marry Fergus!
Elinor pressed a hand against her stomach to stave off the strange feeling that began to flutter around it. She would confess that Fergus was not the brute she had first thought him to be, but neither was he her idea of an ideal mate. No one was.
“There you are, Princess,” Gavina said, beaming. She held up a looking glass and turned it to face Elinor.
As much as she appreciated Gavina’s way with a brush and rouge, this time Elinor wished the girl were not so talented. She did not want to stand out. In fact, she hoped if she made herself seem homely—dour, even—that maybe Lachlan would object to their upcoming betrothal.
Though Elinor was not naive enough to believe that a slight change in her appearance would dissuade the Fraser from this union that had been promised since their birth. Because it was less about what either she or Lachlan wanted, and more about the alliance between their two clans. Both she and her future betrothed were but pawns in this chess game between the leaders of Clan MacCameron and Clan Fraser.
Knowing that Lachlan had as little say in his future as she had in hers did not soften Elinor’s feelings toward the man. When all was said and done, he would benefit from their marriage much more than she would. As the man in their union, Lachlan would control everything.
Including her.
Elinor took the looking glass from Gavina’s hands and peered at her face once more. She pinched her cheeks and smoothed her brows.
“It does not matter what I think about my future betrothed,” she finally said, answering Gavina’s earlier inquiry. “What is promised is promised.”
It did not matter. She would be gone before a wedding could take place. Once she, Merida, and Fergus figured out what was behind the threat to MacCameron Kingdom, that was. She would not leave while her kingdom was in peril. But ultimately she would leave. She had to.
She set the looking glass on the table and pushed herself up from the chair.
“’Tis time for dinner,” Elinor said.
Let the charade begin.
Elinor’s heart pounded against the walls of her chest as she made the long journey down the corridor, but when she entered the Great Hall, she did so with all the regal bearing her title demanded. The train of her ice-blue silk gown trailed several feet behind as she walked slowly toward the table where the chieftain of Clan Fraser and Lachlan were already seated, along with her father. Her mother would make her entrance last, as had become custom during any formal dinner. Queen Catriona believed that every eye in the room must be set on her, and the only way to ensure that was to be the last one to arrive.
The men all stood as Elinor approached the table.
“Good evening.”
Both her father and the chieftain nodded their greeting.
“Good evening, Princess,” Lachlan said with a deep bow.
Elinor’s breath caught in her throat as she waited to see if he would mention their run-in that afternoon. But he did not. When the underbutler moved to show Elinor to her seat, Lachlan held him off.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her hand. She offered it to him and struggled not to flinch at his touch.
He guided her to the opposite side of the table, to the chair that faced his. He pulled the chair out for her, then pushed it back once she was seated.
Lachlan’s fingers lingered longer than what would have been deemed appropriate as he slowly released her hand, brushing her wrist in a soft caress. Elinor’s eyes shot to his, but he did not answer for his forwardness. He only smiled that oily smile that so many of the lasses in the kingdom thought was charming.
He returned to the opposite side of the table, but the moment he reclaimed his seat, he looked toward the front of the Great Hall and rose again. She followed his gaze.
Queen Catriona had arrived.
All at the table followed Lachlan’s lead, rising as the queen made her way to them. The gold thread sewn into the hem of her dark green gown sparkled underneath the hundreds of candles burning in the chandeliers above them. Elinor had to admit that her mother excelled at making a grand entrance. She had tried to teach her daughter, but some things were innate. Commanding the attention of everyone with her mere presence was a gift her mother had likely possessed since birth.
Pleasantries were exchanged between the queen and the two men from the visiting clan before everyone was once again seated.
As dinner was served, King Douglass and the chieftain dived right into a conversation about the various issues facing their clans. Elinor normally detested such talk, but the longer they discussed these matters, the longer she would not have to worry about any other uncomfortable subjects being brought up.
She took small bites of the mutton stew and freshly baked bread that had been served so that, if she was called upon, she would not be able to respond. After all, Queen Catriona would be horrified if her daughter were to speak with a mouth full of food.
Her plan worked brilliantly for nearly half the meal, but as the second course of turnips, roasted hare, and kale was served, Lachlan spoke.
“Princess Elinor,” he said when there was a lull in the conversation at the table. Terror struck Elinor’s soul. Would he mention that he had seen her with Fergus?
“I hear that you are well versed in the lute. What are some of your favorite songs to play?”
Elinor was so taken aback that she did not know how to answer. She looked around the table. All eyes were on her.
She cleared her throat.
“I enjoy the Scottish folk songs that were brought to this region from Carrick,” she finally answered.
“Lowlander songs?” Lachlan said with no small amount of disdain. “You come from a rich heritage of Highlanders, yet you enjoy the screeching sounds from Carrick?” He tsked. “I must warn you, I will not abide such music in my home.”
Without thinking, Elinor shot him a menacing look.
This time it was the queen who cleared her throat.
“My family is originally from Carrick,” the queen said. “I am the one who taught the princess the songs of the Lowlanders. My people also have a rich heritage.”
The silence that came over the Great Hall was deafening.
“Well,” Lachlan began after an excruciatingly awkward stretch of moments. “That makes all the difference, Queen Catriona. I shall be happy to hear the princess’s skill with the lute.” He smiled, but Elinor noticed the way his hand tightened around the stem of his goblet.
A layer of tension hovered over the room following the exchange between the queen and Elinor’s future betrothed. Several dishes were served from the kitchen, but Elinor did not even bother with pretending to eat.
Just as the maids arrived to clear the table of the course before dessert, Lachlan pushed his chair back and stood. “Will you excuse me?”
The underbutler rushed to his side.
“No need to follow,” Lachlan told him. “Just point me to the privy chamber.”
Elinor welcomed the short reprieve. Even when Lachlan was not paying attention to her, she still found herself on edge.
She was surprised by the queen’s defense. During all their lessons, her mother was always quick to point out that once she was married she was to defer to her husband in all matters, but apparently that wasn’t the case when it came to the music of her people.
Elinor glanced over at her mother and smiled, but the smile was not returned. She was not sure what she had done now, but it was obvious the queen was not happy with her performance.
She released a sigh of resignation.
It was time she accepted that she would never please her mother, no matter how hard she tried.
It only strengthened Elinor’s resolve. If she was going to be a disappointment, she should give Queen Catriona something to truly be disappointed in. Like running away from what everyone thought was her duty by birthright.
They had to uncover whatever was behind this threat to the kingdom. The time was drawing near when she would have to make a break for it. She could not hold off for much longer.