Page 95 of A Scot on the Rocks

“The boat will come with the tide,” he told her. “We’ve a few hours, and ye’ve been wearing borrowed clothes since ye arrived. There’s a woman along the square who deals in clothing and has a seamstress besides. Will ye come?”

“Are you taking me shopping, Jamie Campbell?”

“Aye. But if ye ask me whether a ribbon flatters ye, I may have to flee.”

“I’ll try to refrain.”

He grinned and offered his arm, which she took. A shop stood between a baker and a chandler’s with dyed wool hanging near its door. Inside, folded cloth reached almost to the ceiling, and a brisk woman named Mistress Kerr eyed Olivia’s height, her gown, and her boots in that order.

“The boots will stay,” Olivia said before she was asked.

“Then I’ll cut the skirts accordingly,” Mistress Kerr replied, untroubled. “I’ve two gowns taken in trade that may serve ye. The seams can be let out in the chest, and my niece can finish the alterations tomorrow.”

One was sturdy russet wool with a narrow stripe and cuffs that could be turned back for work. The other was deep blue, plainer than the gowns Olivia had seen on wealthy women in the market but fine enough for a supper where she wasn’t expected to carry firewood. Both needed fitting, and Mistress Kerr pinned the shoulders, chest, and waist with the brisk confidence of a woman who’d been measuring bodies most of her life.

Olivia wanted them both. That surprised her. Borrowed clothing had been a temporary arrangement, something to wear until she found her way home. Owning two gowns, chemises, and gloves made the future look disturbingly like a place where she intended to remain.

Jamie had wandered to a shelf of gloves and stockings, apparently giving her privacy. When she stepped out from behind the curtain, he was standing beside the counter with a soft wool shawl draped over one arm and a beautiful cloak over the other.

The shawl was woven in deep blue, green, and black checks, the wool soft enough that Olivia wanted to wrap herself in it immediately. But it was the cloak that caught her attention. Made of rich blue wool and lined in a deep forest green, it had delicate embroidery running along the hem. Tiny curling leaves and thistles wound through the pattern in green and black thread, with the same intricate stitching edging the generous hood.

Olivia reached out to touch the embroidery, marveling at the tiny, even stitches.

“Jamie, these are beautiful.”

“Aye, I thought they might suit ye.” He lifted the shawl. “This will keep the wind off when ye’re working about the castle.”

“I’ve already got a shawl.”

“Aye, and it’s near worn through. This one’s warmer.”

She looked from the shawl to the cloak and back at him. “You bought me both?”

“I did.”

“Jamie, you can’t keep buying me things.”

“Can I no’?” His mouth curved into that wicked smile she was becoming entirely too fond of. “I wasna aware there was a law against it.”

“There ought to be one against men who spend too much money on women they’ve only recently met.”

“Then it’s fortunate I make a living ignoring laws.”

Olivia laughed despite herself, then lifted the cloak from his arm and held it against her shoulders. The wool was wonderfully soft and surprisingly light for something so warm. She ran her fingers over the embroidered thistles, wondering how many hours some woman had spent working such a lovely pattern.

“This must have cost a fortune.”

“The woman said it was fine wool, and I believe her.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I ken what ye meant, lass.” He reached for the edge of the cloak and settled it more comfortably around her shoulders, his fingers brushing the back of her neck as he adjusted the hood. “Do ye like it?”

Olivia looked down at the beautiful embroidery, then up at the Highlander watching her with an expression that suggested he was rather more interested in her answer than he wanted her to know.

“I love it,” she admitted. “Both of them.”

“Then I’ve chosen well.”