Chapter 72

Teárlag's hands became still as she imagined what it would mean to live a life with Thorburn, as opposed to the mess she found herself in now, facing an uncertain future of brutality with Blackthorne. If anything, it would be worse than the one Isobel experienced with McTavish, only with more money. Isobel put her hand up and squeezed Teárlag's hand and she heard her start to sob behind her.

"What's the matter, Teárlag? Have I said something to upset you?"

"Pay me no mind," Teárlag sniffed. "I always cry at weddings. I'm almost finished. Give me a few more minutes and you can look."

Isobel felt Teárlag's hands begin work again. They remained silent save for a couple of suppressed sobs as Teárlag began recovering from the pitiful fate she imagined for herself.

The tears were surprising to Isobel. Teárlag didn't strike her as someone who cried at weddings; more likely to laugh than cry. There must be something else bothering her, although she was reluctant to speak of it. Could she be envying her marriage to Frang? Or maybe she hoped Thorburn would offer himself and it was not going well. Unless she chose to speak of it, Isobel would never know. She could offer her support.

"If you wish to speak to someone about what bothers you, I would be happy to listen."

"Nay, it's nothing really."

"You don't seem the type to cry at weddings, if you don't mind my saying so."

Teárlag laughed a little between the tears, wiping at her eyes. "Nay, I suppose not. I can't discuss it though I appreciate your offer to listen. This is not the time nor the place."

"If you change your mind, I am ready to listen at any time."

"Thank you. I'm done now. Would you like to look?"

"Please."

"Turn and face the mirror."

Isobel stood and faced the mirror. It was as if a magician and come in and waved a wand over her head. Teárlag had done several loose braids which she'd wrapped and piled and pinned upon the top of her head. It gave her another two inches in height. Two small tight braids were on either side of her head.

"It's beautiful," Isobel said, touching it lightly, afraid it might topple down.

"It's pinned well," Teárlag said. "It won't fall down before the wedding." She touched the braids framing Isobel's face. "If you unbraid these just before the ceremony, it will leave loose curls."

Isobel hugged Teárlag. "Thank you for this."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Isobel said.

Jinny entered with the wedding dress, stopping when she saw Isobel.

"Your Ladyship. Your hair looks wonderful. Lord Frang will melt when he sees it. I've finished the dress. I can help you put it on if you wish?"

"Nay, thank you, Jinny. Lady Mackintosh is assisting me today. I shall be okay. Leave the dress on the bed. I'll put it on shortly. I appreciate your hard work, Jinny. Will you be at the wedding?"

"Wild horses could not keep me away, Lady."

"I'll see you then."

Jinny left and Isobel began going through her shifts to find the nicest one to go under the dress. Finding one of better quality with some embroidered flowers on the bodice, she took it out.

"I suppose I should find a pretty night gown to sleep in," Isobel said. "I'll be in Frang's room tonight."

"I brought something from my room I wish to give you as a wedding present," Teárlag said. "It will be a little shorter than intended since I'm shorter than you, but we're similar otherwise, and I don't suppose something shorter will matter much for night clothes."

She removed something from some wrappings and handed it to Isobel. Isobel was surprised it was so light. She held it up and it was white and semi-sheer and so soft and smooth. Isobel had never felt material so slick.

"What is it? I've never seen anything like it."

"It's silk, from China."

"This is silk? I've heard it's ridiculously expensive."

"It is."

"Teárlag! How can I accept it? Something so expensive. We hardly know one another."

"I have ridiculous amounts of money. What I'm short of, is friends. I have nothing else to give you and it would honor me greatly if you'd accept this."

"May I try it on?" Isobel asked.

"It's yours if you'll accept it. Please try it on."

Isobel removed her shift and slipped the night gown over her head. It was like water sliding over her bare skin; so light and glossy. She felt her nipples harden as the material caressed her breasts. She looked in the mirror.

"My God, it clings to me like a second skin. You can see my nipples, my hair; it's like I'm naked."

"That's the intended affect. It does wonders for the male parts; both hiding and revealing. Frang will appreciate it."

"If I want him to give me time to approach him, this may be the wrong thing to wear tonight. It would be like waving a red flag before a bull."

Teárlag laughed. "It's been known to have that influence. You don't need to wear it tonight. Save it for when you're ready to enter his bed. If you wear it then, he'll know for sure you're seeking his attentions. Something more modest tonight might be better."

"Thank you, Teárlag. I've never owned anything this fine. It's a glorious gift and one I can't repay."

"If you'll accept my friendship, I will consider myself more than repaid."

Isobel hugged her in answer, squeezing her hard. "I gladly accept your friendship, Lady Mackintosh."

Another good person I'm deceiving, Teárlag thought. I will surely go to hell for this.

It was time for Isobel to get dressed. She removed the silk night gown and tucked it away in a safe place, pulling out another not nearly as alluring. Teárlag helped her dress, fastening the many buttons on the back. She double checked Isobel's hair to ensure it was staying in place. She applied some of her own make-up to Isobel's lips, cheeks and eyes. With their coloring being so similar, it looked good on her.

"One last look," Teárlag said, turning her towards the mirror.

Isobel placed her hand on her cheek, touched her finger to her lip.

"I look like another person; like a queen," she said wonderingly. "Will Frang even recognize me?"

"You're the same person," Teárlag assured her, "merely enhanced. He will know you the moment he sees you."

Isobel stared at herself. "I'm more beautiful than I believed possible."

"Now you know why Frang wants to marry you. I imagine this is what he sees every time he looks at you. You're always pretty, Isobel. Never fool yourself. Your former husband may not have realized the treasure he let go, but everyone else sees you for the woman you are, both inside and out."

"Do you need help with your dress, Lady Mackintosh?"

"I will have my maid assist me if Thorburn cannot. Wait here until Thorburn comes for you. He will lead you to the altar."

Isobel handed Teárlag the night shift she'd found for herself. "Please bring this to Frang's room so I will have it this evening."

"Of course. I'll see you shortly."

Teárlag left Isobel still looking at herself in the mirror.

She went to Frang's room first, knocking. When no one answered, she went in and left Isobel's nightgown on a chair near the fireplace. Going to Thorburn's room, she knocked and heard his "enter". She went into the room and saw Thorburn engaged in trimming his beard.

"I can help you with that, Thorburn, if you trust a woman with your hair."

"Aye, I'd appreciate your help. My fingers barely fit in the holes of this wee scissors. It was clearly made for someone with much smaller hands than mine."

Teárlag smiled and took the scissors from him. She began trimming his beard, smoothing it out.

"Your hands were clearly made for swords and manhandling women, Thorburn. At that, they excel."

He reached out and thumbed her nipple through her dress. She slapped his hand away.

"Enough of that, Thorburn. We have a wedding to attend and much to do. Don't start what you cannot finish now."

"If you'd asked me this morning if I could feel any desire for you now after the night we'd just enjoyed, I would have called it impossible. Yet all it takes is seeing you after a few hours and I find myself eager to sample your body once more. I'm thinking you've cast an enchantment upon me. I feel like a young man again."

"I'm happy to know you still want me, Thorburn. You may take full advantage of me tonight, when we have the full night before us, not mere moments as we do now." She slapped his hand away again, which had started up her leg. "Behave yourself."