The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) by Collette Cameron Page B
Authors: Collette Cameron
Ads: Link
Her heart twinged with regret. How could she feel pity for him? He was the monster, not her. She was preventing him from wreaking more havoc.
Climbing the slick stairs, she muttered sourly to herself. “How dare he make me feel guilty, the sinful wretch? He brought this on himself. As God is my judge, I’m only doing this to protect Yvette until Ewan comes home.”
Her conscience chastised her.
And to punish Marquardt in your quest for revenge.
In her bedchamber the next evening, Adaira slipped a new gown over her head, and then angled her arms into its sleeves. She sighed, enjoying the sensation of the cherry silk softly caressing her body as it slid to her ankles. She smoothed the fabric over her hips, frowning at her lack of curves.
She’d inherited Grandmother’s slender shape. Adaira grimaced as she turned this way and that before the full-length oval mirror. It was no wonder Marquardt mistook her for a boy. She’d not the height or the curvy hips and bosoms of her sisters. Isobel and Seonaid had Mother’s womanly figure, all rounded softness to tempt a man. Ewan and Dugall were tall and thickly built too.
Only she was petite and willowy . That’s what Father called her, a lissome willow. To her mind, the comparison wasn’t altogether flattering. The singular benefit Adaira garnered from being slim was less male attention than her more curvaceous sisters.
That pleased her no end. “Maisey, please help me with the sash.”
“Aye, Miss Adaira.” The maid gathered the ends of the ribbons. “Ye be wantin’ the gold silk slippers tonight?”
“Yes, and the ruby combs.” Next to her topaz necklace, the combs were Adaira’s most cherished possessions, excluding Fionn, of course. They’d been a gift from her parents for her eighteenth birthday.
Maisey finished tying the bow, then retrieved Adaira’s embroidered slippers. Holding onto the maid’s arm, Adaira tucked her feet into the shoes.
She wore gowns for dinner or celebrations. Mother forbade her to wear breeches for either. Adaira knew her mother didn’t understand her eldest daughter. She accepted Adaira’s peculiarities just the same. Every now and again she’d see Mother studying her, a frown gathering between her fine brows, as if she sought to see into her daughter’s mind.
Adaira had been terrified Seonaid, with her gift of second sight, would do exactly that. It had been four years, and her sister had never hinted she knew anything about the attack. To Adaira’s recollection, no one had ever been able to keep a significant secret from Seonaid. Her second sight made it nearly impossible.
Adaira straightened a turned-up ruffle on her sleeve. She shook her skirt. The flounces shifted into place with a soft swish. It was a lovely gown. She’d have to be sure to thank her parents again. Truthfully, she enjoyed wearing the exquisite garments more than breeches. The gowns were the very latest fashions from London, and she quite liked the fripperies, fallalls, and jewelry Mother and Father provided her.
Adaira never explained to anyone why she’d started wearing breeches around the same time she’d started the horse breeding venture. Many had hinted it was because of her new unladylike interests or a rebellious phase she was going through. She never set them right on their inaccurate assumptions.
She couldn’t, lest her secret be revealed.
As the maid twisted and pinned a curl in place, Adaira flinched. She wasn’t fond of this part of her toilette , or the pulling and tugging involved in acquiring the latest Grecian coiffeur. Maisey was sensitive to criticism, so Adaira bore her maid’s ministrations with good grace.
Fastening her pendant around her neck, Adaira scrutinized herself in the floor length oval mirror. The necklace’s stones were an exact match to the golden ruffles edging her dress. The transformation in her appearance when she cast off boy’s attire and donned the trappings of a lady of quality still unnerved her.
Climbing the slick stairs, she muttered sourly to herself. “How dare he make me feel guilty, the sinful wretch? He brought this on himself. As God is my judge, I’m only doing this to protect Yvette until Ewan comes home.”
Her conscience chastised her.
And to punish Marquardt in your quest for revenge.
In her bedchamber the next evening, Adaira slipped a new gown over her head, and then angled her arms into its sleeves. She sighed, enjoying the sensation of the cherry silk softly caressing her body as it slid to her ankles. She smoothed the fabric over her hips, frowning at her lack of curves.
She’d inherited Grandmother’s slender shape. Adaira grimaced as she turned this way and that before the full-length oval mirror. It was no wonder Marquardt mistook her for a boy. She’d not the height or the curvy hips and bosoms of her sisters. Isobel and Seonaid had Mother’s womanly figure, all rounded softness to tempt a man. Ewan and Dugall were tall and thickly built too.
Only she was petite and willowy . That’s what Father called her, a lissome willow. To her mind, the comparison wasn’t altogether flattering. The singular benefit Adaira garnered from being slim was less male attention than her more curvaceous sisters.
That pleased her no end. “Maisey, please help me with the sash.”
“Aye, Miss Adaira.” The maid gathered the ends of the ribbons. “Ye be wantin’ the gold silk slippers tonight?”
“Yes, and the ruby combs.” Next to her topaz necklace, the combs were Adaira’s most cherished possessions, excluding Fionn, of course. They’d been a gift from her parents for her eighteenth birthday.
Maisey finished tying the bow, then retrieved Adaira’s embroidered slippers. Holding onto the maid’s arm, Adaira tucked her feet into the shoes.
She wore gowns for dinner or celebrations. Mother forbade her to wear breeches for either. Adaira knew her mother didn’t understand her eldest daughter. She accepted Adaira’s peculiarities just the same. Every now and again she’d see Mother studying her, a frown gathering between her fine brows, as if she sought to see into her daughter’s mind.
Adaira had been terrified Seonaid, with her gift of second sight, would do exactly that. It had been four years, and her sister had never hinted she knew anything about the attack. To Adaira’s recollection, no one had ever been able to keep a significant secret from Seonaid. Her second sight made it nearly impossible.
Adaira straightened a turned-up ruffle on her sleeve. She shook her skirt. The flounces shifted into place with a soft swish. It was a lovely gown. She’d have to be sure to thank her parents again. Truthfully, she enjoyed wearing the exquisite garments more than breeches. The gowns were the very latest fashions from London, and she quite liked the fripperies, fallalls, and jewelry Mother and Father provided her.
Adaira never explained to anyone why she’d started wearing breeches around the same time she’d started the horse breeding venture. Many had hinted it was because of her new unladylike interests or a rebellious phase she was going through. She never set them right on their inaccurate assumptions.
She couldn’t, lest her secret be revealed.
As the maid twisted and pinned a curl in place, Adaira flinched. She wasn’t fond of this part of her toilette , or the pulling and tugging involved in acquiring the latest Grecian coiffeur. Maisey was sensitive to criticism, so Adaira bore her maid’s ministrations with good grace.
Fastening her pendant around her neck, Adaira scrutinized herself in the floor length oval mirror. The necklace’s stones were an exact match to the golden ruffles edging her dress. The transformation in her appearance when she cast off boy’s attire and donned the trappings of a lady of quality still unnerved her.
Similar Books
