AN: I'm toying with the accents as much as I can…hopefully they turn out well enough!

"If the wedding isn't till the summer, why is she comin' here in the middle of winter?" Vailean tossed up the apple into the air that he had intended to eat originally. That was, until his father brought up the topic of his betroth and the calendar. According to the letters, the woman was to already be on her way and arrive by ship within the next day or two. At this news, Vailean's sweet tooth died off rather quickly.

After dinner, the two often walked through the castle and to the outdoors where they would separate to their own business once the topics to talk of ran dry. Oddly enough, that happened rather quickly and usually as soon as their toes touched the grass. "It is tradition to welcome the bride early and teach her our ways. Better to do one thing at a time instead of pilin' up an endin' of her old life, startin' a new life, and a wedding."

For the next six months or so, the girl would learn their ways of life. When it came time to wed, she should, in theory, be more at ease with the idea. "And it gives the couple time to get to know each other. Used to be the first day they meet, they wed and bed and be done with it – total strangers." Magnus had been the lucky generation who started the recent tradition. He and his wife met by contract, of course, but as she learned the difference between her clan and his own (which was easy since she was already from Scotland; this English girl, he had his doubts about) he took that chance to make her fall in love. More than just her hand did he win…he earned her heart as well.

The walk down the last hall before the outdoors was a stroll of silence. While the older man was briefly lost in his past, the youngest one kept his eyes on his flickering reflection off to the side. With each stepped, his handsome self reflected off the many window panes allowing him to adjust his hair just right. Whether or not he heard his father's response was to be seen.

"When she gets off the ship, bow to her."

"Why aren't you goin' to bow?" This act of humbling himself snapped his attention back to the conversation at hand. Vailean turned towards his father once they stepped outside. While the sun occasionally peaked out from behind the puffy clouds, the males still had the aftermath of the summer. That combined with their wild black hair and blue war paint made them stick out almost painfully against the fallen snow.

Inhaling the crisp, cold air allowed Macintosh time to bring on a smirk. "Because lad, I'm a Lord and you're a son of a Lord. She's a daughter of a Duchess. And I'm her future father-in-law…"

"Still doesn't explain why I have to bow to her. She should bow to me!" How many people were going to be there watching?

They stopped at the middle of the garden right before the frosted over fountain. Magnus sighed and spoke while his breath still hung in the air, "Both of you will bow. You two are equal, lad." It never occurred to him to talk to his son about how to treat a woman. "Treat her as an equal, treat her well." The mere idea of a woman being miserable in his household didn't set right with him. In fact, he felt that his late wife would be ashamed of him, of their son if he were the cause of the girl's unhappiness.

The young lord briefly had a nasty look across his face as if he had bitten into a cake that was too tart. Right, he'd have something to say about that another time. For now though… "Is that all, Father? I promised a show for…some friends." Girls. Yet saying that might just make his father frown…for some reason.

Lord Macintosh looked over at his son carefully, not suspiciously though he was starting to wonder if he should, before looking over the garden. Dead, of course, but everything from the dirt to the benches contained a layer of either ice, snow, or both. "Go." Better to have his son away from this place. Not the castle, no, but from the garden. The stillness and lifelessness of it all…it was no place for a young man about to wed. No place for anyone with a grand future ahead.

Vailean took off at the one worded permission, leaving his father standing before the fountain. It felt darker than what it was outside. In fact, he suddenly felt uneasy about having the Lady Evey come to his castle during this time of year. It was so cold, so dead, so…full of bad luck.

Would his son and the girl pick up where he and his late wife left off, full of love and joy? The winter howling wind said nothing promising.

~ Two weeks ago in England ~

The time from the first announcement of Evey's betrothal to her actual foot stepping onto the ship had been so busy and exhausting that she hadn't had time, or energy, to be alone with her thoughts. There was the issue of which servants to take since she was allowed only three. The issue of parties to attend given in her and her future husband's name. The issue of clothing for both winter and summer, as well as packing her things. The issue of how to act with the people there, how to address everyone. The issue of how a wife should act, although there was practically no talk except gossip (from her friends, not her mother) about the wedding night.

The list went on and on. By the time Evey was dressing the day of her journey, she noted she had lost weight from all the activity. She winced though, disliking the idea. It was said to be snowing over there now and she only had so many furs to cloak herself with.

That was one thing she did notice and that did cause her grief – only one of many things that would plague her on the ride over to Scotland with two weeks of being alone with her own thoughts. And that was rain. It rained nearly year round where she was. During the winter it snowed of course, but for some reason it had rained more than snowed the past few cold months. Maybe that was England's way of saying farewell?

While most people would think it was crying for her, she liked to think England's weather was giving her the best gift it could. For as long as she could recall, she loved the rain. The sound of it, the sight, the smell when it hit the country grass…it was so natural and pure. And it tasted great!

Not just that though, when she was younger her parents would let her go play outside in it. In her nice dresses, she would run in the mud and play in the puddles as it thundered and struck lightning. For a Lady to be allowed such play…it was one of her greatest freedoms.

But what if it didn't rain as much there? What if the rain felt, smelt, and tasted different, worse? What if it was highly frowned upon for her to even step foot outside, let alone stroll in it casually as she replaced with playing as she got older? And just like that, one of her childhood activities that had seen its way well into her adulthood would be gone. Just because of the different courts.

That was the least of her concerns though, at least for that day. When it was time to board the ship, she faced her parents and realized this might be the next time they met again might be many years, if ever again. Swallowing the lump in her throat at the idea, she spoke the speech she had rehearsed on her own.

"Mother…Father…it makes my heart ache to leave these lands, these walls that I've grown up only partly in, and to leave you both. At the same time, I am also excited at the prospect of writing back one day, sharing the joy and success in the marriage-to-be. I am proud and excited to show how well you both have raised me both by diplomacy, reading, and sword fighting…a prince's education. And best yet, I cannot wait to show them, my new family, that I can sew beautifully and play instruments as well as wield a sword. Thank you both so much…I will…miss you both terribly so." She wanted so bad to rush forward and hug them both, but it was frowned upon in public even from her.

Helena and the Duke both had tears swimming freely in their eyes, the only difference being Helena allowing them to fall. The rest of that moment was a blur, a happy blur, to Evey. Words were spoken, promises to write said, hand-squeezing in place of hugging…and then she was off. She was in the corner of the ship crying quietly so she wouldn't be tempted to cry later at Scotland. To rid the tears now in England and leave them, and her old life, behind so that she may start fresh in Scotland.

~Present, in Scotland~

The ship had been spotted miles away earlier that day. With a quick announcement to Lord Macintosh, most of the clan found themselves at the docks waiting anxiously. Well, most were at least. The young lord, Vailean, had his attention on the gaggle of female that tended to follow him quite often. It went without saying that there were many red eyes and sore hearts in that group of girls; their best looking man…to be married! Meeting his bride-to-be now! When his father wasn't looking, he would flex his pecks and flick his hair back, his chin always up in the air. It helped the girls keep swooning and stop crying for now at least.

There was still the issue of bowing. Granted that it was a mere bend of the waist, but before all of the clan…it did not sit right with Vailean. Daughter of a Duchess or not, the girl was in his land now and in this land, he was (would be) Lord one day! Why should he lower himself to that of a girl below him? Even as a wife, she would be a step under him. It was just her place.

The man next to him, his father, was quiet and staring at the ship intensely. He may as well be preparing for battle, facing the calm before the storm. Hopefully it wouldn't resemble that. In the letters that the Duchess Helena had sent, her daughter Evey was supposedly even tempered and kind, understanding. But who knew the truth in these letters? Macintosh was occasionally, rarely, sort of guilty of…stretching the truth, just a little.

Both men wore the same outfit. Up to their knees were fur socks, their kilts of warmer material in the color of red and black. They remained in their usual fashion of showing off their chests but had fur wrapped around to cover part of. On their chest, arms, and face, well at least Magnus' face, was the blue paint in their clans designs. They were prepared for whatever came next.

~In the ship~

Two weeks had flown by – was that good or bad? The reality of the situation really sunk in about the third day at sea. Her servants could only occupy her so much and her walks around the ship could only last so long before the same scenery (water, water, and water) got tiresome. So naturally her thoughts wondered to her future, mostly the bad thoughts, however, came to surface. No longer was she near her mother who, when Evey would start to feel a horrible thought come along and would glance up to Helena, would smile encouragingly.

But none of that was to be thought about now, not when they were docking. She would turn those worrisome concerns into questions that would be answered and not think an inch of them until then. It was difficult though since her servants were the ones doing the lifting which left her standing there, waiting.

None of that mattered though once the ship stopped and her entrance was demanded. Evey licked her lips, letting one of the other women fix her hair once again. "Remember, your best manners." Marian whispered before getting behind her in her place.

"Smile," Katherine added as she stood a few feet behind her Lady.

"And for God's sake, don't bring up your less-than-ladylike skills!" Jane hissed as she too stood behind her. Together, they formed a diamond; Evey in the front, Katherine behind her, Marian to her right, and Jane to her left.

In each of their hands lay a gift to the family of Macintosh. Evey cursed inwardly to see the fabric in her grip tremble, revealing her nerves. "Like what?" She snapped at Jane, suddenly wondering why she had wanted her candidness to this new world.

And they were off, walking onto land for the first time in weeks. All four ladies wobbled until they got their bearings, walking towards the crowd of people not too far off. "Just focus on your needlework, m'lady." Jane advised softly, hinting heavily what she should do.

Evey's eyes roamed over the pure white of the area, of the snow. It was stunning enough to make her step falter, her lips part in awe until her servants nudged her gently. Keeping her gaze straight ahead on the two people that seemed higher than everyone else, she kept her chin high and her hands still.

They were all a blur of red until they came closer, staining the red almost. While the servants wore simple browns and blacks, Evey wore a rich green to bring out the color of her eyes. The edges reached just above her ankles, fur wrapped around her neck and waist. The cut of her bodice was a square lined with pearls. Just the same, her black hair was braided into one large braid with pearls entwined. They stuck out against it, as would the snow had it been falling.

Closer and closer…they walked between the large crowd and up several stairs. "Good God, they are barbarians!" Jane whispered in horror.

"Silence!" Evey hissed from the corner of her lips.

"Their clothing…"

"Marian, hush!" But now that she had mentioned it…Evey glanced up and down the two males before her that were merely yards away. No doubt they did the same to her. There was blue paint in designs on their half naked bodies, the males showing part of their chests even in the cold weather. Barbaric indeed…

It was of great fortune that the ladies whispers hadn't been heard. Lord Macintosh smiled, oblivious to it all, as he spoke, "I am Lord Magnus Macintosh and this is my son, your betroth, Vailean Macintosh. We welcome you to our country and clan with open arms."

It was at this point that Vailean was supposed to bow. Actually, the moment had passed and it was meant to be when his name was spoken. Yet he stood straight up, looking down at the woman walking towards him. Proud and standing erect, he would not bow and even with his father elbowing him in the side, he would prove to be the dominate one. The one who should be respected.

This wasn't lost on the crowd and certainly not on Evey. She felt awkward and wondered if he had forgotten; though judging by the soft mutter across the crowd, it had not slipped his mind. Yet she would prove to be the better person and keep with tradition. As she stepped onto the platform, now at level with the two while her three servants remained steps below, she gave a deep curtsey.

As she did, her eyes met with what the two men wore: skirts. No, kilts, weren't they called? With fur wrapped up to their knees, they wore red and black kilts that oddly enough resembled something of an English fashion called a skirt. These men were wearing skirts.

It hadn't occurred to Evey just how long she had been in the curtsey position or, worse, how long she had been openly staring at Lord Macintosh's lower half. It had been long enough to make her servants fidget, obviously wanting desperately to give a tug to her dress. If they did, it would only draw more attention.

Magnus glanced down, noticing the pearls that were almost outrageously bright against her hair, the braid over her shoulder. Her ears were pierced with a grey pearl, he also noted. Along the way of her cut had pearls sewn on. Perhaps it was a symbol of her family? No, of her. But why? What was special about a pearl to her that she should be covered in their first meeting?

That was when he realized he had had time, perhaps too much time, to study her appearance that close. Ah, so she was staring at his kilt, was she? A confident, smug smirk came across his lips – it never dawned on him that that was where his son got his own pride from. Clearing his throat, he placed the tips of his fingers on her chin, gently pulling her to look up.

Her eyes were such a striking green, especially against her pale skin; being hidden from the sun had its effect on her. Or was she always like that? He had heard English women were quite pale. "Aye, that's enough respect for all of us." Lord Macintosh poked at her gently with his joke.

Just like that, those pale cheeks almost alarmingly close to the color of the snow around them flared with a pinkish hue. Her green eyes flickered away from him as she stood. Evey inhaled to get a hold of herself though her hands started to tremble under the gift she held without permission. "I am Lady Evey Elward, daughter of the Duke and Duchess Elward of Saxon. I and my servants thank you for the welcoming of your land and people, and present these gifts to your royal family." The speech slipped off her lips with ease, having practiced it for hours.

Another murmur amongst the crowd, even a raised eyebrow from Lord Macintosh – and the Young Macintosh, although his hair made it difficult to tell: her accent. It had to be how she sounded. While the Scots had their own way of pronouncing vowels and such, making it sound almost musical, she knew the English often sounded painfully sharp, clear. Swallowing, she continued with her speech. "As a way of showing my handiness with a needle, as well as prove useful in your family already, I present two quilts I made recently. My servants on my left and right hold them, one for both of you, m'lords. And behind me, another holds a book full of empty parchment that is thirsty for the ink of your splendors. Record all your tales and battles so they will never be forgotten."

It was at this point that Evey glanced to the young Macintosh, Vailean. Still, he did now bow. Still, he looked down at her as if she were a mere bug, as if she were a servant. Something about his standing posture set her off, but she quickly recovered, not wanting to show any negativity in their first meeting. "And for my betroth, my husband-to-be, I present to you a shield carved from the finest, strongest tree we have in England. Showers of rain make the tree as strong as an ox," another thing she would miss, the trees from the near-constant rain, "it will protect you in any fight." She held out the shield, holding her breath.

Vailean all but snatched it. Finally a use from this girl! A shield to practice with now, to use. Far better than the quilts her servants held for her. "It looks splendid," he finally spoke, looking it over with a close eye. When his father cleared his throat once more, Vailean looked back at his betroth. "Thank you for this gift. And, uh…welcome."

Evey gave a soft smile, her 'diplomatic' smile as she called it. As he looked it over, she took advantage of his distraction to look over him more closely. When her eyes landed on his sword, they lit up. A sword! She longed to reach out and grab it, to see how sturdy their metal was. To…

"I see my son's weapon has caught your attention." Macintosh puffed up as he spoke, drawing Evey's attention to the Lord's body. Like…a pear, almost. She tried not to smirk or smile as she looked up, already able to hear her servants giggling about him.

Evey nodded but before she could speak, Magnus continued. "Don't be frightened, lassy, he knows not to draw his sword to a fair lady."

Instantly Jane groaned quietly, already knowing what would happen. She went unnoticed for the most part though, for as soon as Macintosh tried to calm Evey down like a child frightened of thunder, her lady-like attitude went down. "Frightened? Hardly!" Evey stepped forward boldly and took Vailean's sword from his hip, ignoring how he jumped and gripped his new shield tighter. Her servants gasped and the look on Macintosh's face – a mixture of suspicion and amusement – snapped Evey out of her brief moment of outrage.

Swallowing she looked around at the crowd suddenly wishing they were alone. "I…was merely admiring the…craft of this weapon." She turned it in her hand, adding, "It looks as sturdy as can be, sharp as well." And no mention of how she could beat her husband-to-be to the ground with it, as Jane warned. No mention of the education fit for a prince that she, a daughter, had received.

Placing the handle towards Vailean, she tried to smile. "Your sword…"

Lord Macintosh watched his son slowly take it, clearly unsure of what had just happened. It would be a good time to respond, he decided. "Well then, off to the castle!"

Next chapter: Dinner and an evening getting to know everyone – translation, the Macintosh men boast to Lady Evey.