Lord of the Isles

“’Tis verra kind of ye, my lady, but ’tis no’ my place.”

Ali took the dress from the girl’s trembling fingers.

“Let’s just see . . .” She frowned. “I guess I’m quite a bit tal er than you, and . . .” Looking at Mari’s slight frame, she remembered the comments about how tiny the laird’s wife had been. “I have an idea. I’l be right back.”

Returning after a brief conversation with Mrs. Mac, Ali smiled at Mari. “Wel , it’s al settled. Mrs. Mac has agreed, so no argument from you.”

The girl watched her warily from where she knelt rear

ranging the contents of the trunk.

Ali opened the wardrobe and pul ed out a lemon yel ow gown, holding it up for Mari. “Come and try it on.”

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Debbie Mazzuca

The girl hesitated before rising to her feet. “Are ye certain?”

“Of course I am.”

Mari looked at Ali; moisture clung to the girl’s auburntipped lashes as she gently caressed the fabric. “’Tis bonny, my lady,” she whispered reverently.

“It is. You’l look beautiful, Mari. The color wil show off your gorgeous red hair.”

Mari lowered her hand, shaking her head. “I doona’ think I can accept it, my lady, but I thank ye fer yer kindness.”

“Don’t be sil y—of course you can. Mrs. Mac said it was fine.”

“Aye, but folk might think I doona’ ken my place.”

Ali blew out a frustrated breath. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“I do, my lady,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry, Mari, of course you do. I understand how you feel.” And she did, only too wel . “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“I ken what yer tryin’ to do, and I appreciate it. ’Tis just with my eyes and my hair, I stick out enough as ’tis.”

“You’re very pretty, Mari. You’l always stand out from the others.”

The young girl giggled. “Yer verra funny, my lady. Pretty.” She repeated the word and laughed again, shaking her head.

“It’s true, Mari, whether you believe me or not. Now, I want you to take the dress and try it on later, when you’re on your own. Maybe you’l change your mind. No arguments.”

She wagged her finger at the girl, placing the gown in her arms despite her protests. Mari looked up at Ali with a shy smile. “My lady, once ye’ve changed gowns ye must let me see to yer hair. ’Tis a bit of a fright if ye doona’ mind me sayin’.”

Ali shrugged, self-consciously touching her head. “I forgot to comb it after—” She let the rest of her sentence LORD OF THE ISLES

57

drop. It’s not like she could say after the laird ran his fingers through my hair to the girl. With her young maid’s help, Ali changed into the robin’s egg blue gown. Her poking and prodding complete, Mari held out a chair for Ali. She took a seat and Mari began combing the tangles from Ali’s hair.

“Sorry,” she apologized when Ali cried out, the comb catching on another knot. When al the tangles were combed through, Ali leaned back in the chair. “Mari, do you like it here?”

“Aye, my lady, ’tis blessed I am to be yer maid.”

Ali snorted. “I’m sure.”

“’Tis true. Yer verra kind to me.”

“Thank you, but I’ve been worried you might be miss

ing your mother.”

“My mam’s verra busy with the others. There are eleven in my family, my lady.”

Eleven. Ali shuddered. “What about friends?”

“I doona’ have friends. I’m too busy helpin’ me mam.”

“You’l have time to make friends here at Dunvegan. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ali asked, turning side ways in the chair to look at Mari.

“Aye.” The girl sighed, a wistful expression on her face. Ali reached back and patted her hand. “I’m going to make sure you do.” And she meant it. Something about the young girl touched her deeply. Perhaps Mari reminded Ali of herself a long time ago, a time when she wished some

one had been there for her. She promised herself before she left Dunvegan, she’d see that Mari was safe and happy.