closed to @auriccmus.
damp mulch squelched beneath the weight of his booted feet as a pair of dark furred scottish terriers nipped at the heels of those standing before him, clearing a path for the earl of march to greet his lady wife. it was certainly a strange thing ─ to be espoused to someone that he knew so little about. naturally, they had known each other as man and wife from the night of their wedding henceforth and the prestige that came with her maiden name was nothing to be scoffed at but ruaidhri knew little else of his bride and was frightened to show interest, lest she grew to expect too much from him. ( ❛ i am a servant of scotland and the crown, first, my lady. ❜ somber, he had gazed down at her with an unreadable expression upon his features, fingers brushing the cream colored sleeves of her shirt from her shoulders as he spoke. ❛ but you will be second to no none other than our nation in my mind, i swear it. ❜ it was the least he could promise her ─ not undying affection or a passionate romance but loyalty and protection under his name. )
still, as he marched to her quiet corner, pups snuffling at her skirts as an announcement of his pending arrival, ruaidhri felt the muscles of his face soften, unconsciously exuding the growing fondness he held for his wife, even as he bent rigidly at the waist, one hand outstretched. ❝ pardon my intrusion, lady wife, but would you indulge me with a stroll ? ❞ there was much he wished to inquire from her but he would not do so in such an occupied garden.
she recognizes the barking at once, the sound attracting her attention from the ladies that surround her, their soft chattering ignored by the countess of march as her cerulean hues fall on a subject more interesting than the gathering ─ her husband comes easy to her line of sight : the prince of scotland was tall, his frame imposing more so than his regal presence wherever he trotted, but although he is quick to spot, it is with a familiarity arabella’s eyes find the small barking creatures that come straight to her feet. ❝ babies ! ❞ the gilded haired woman softly exhales, quietly and expertly slipping her small note book inside a hidden pocket in her kirtle’s skirts before she may bend to pick both of the terriers, who wag their tails in excitement at their new owner. ❝ sire, ❞ though her unbound display of affection towards the pets may raise some stares, she still remembers to properly greet her husband, offering a diminute courtesy to the protest of effie, the youngest between the two dogs and the most demanding one. ❝ be still, are you not a lady, miss effie ? ❞ she playfully scolds the dog, an airy giggle muffled against the fur as she places a kiss upon the terrier’s head.
the beam in her peach - like features is still bright as arabella lifts her gaze back to her husband, though they tremble as an eyebrow raises to the ruddy haired male who expects her attention ─ she finds herself rather flustered as she hesitates to accept his hand, hers occupied with the pets, but the impatient banging of the female pup’s head against her stiff corseted torso allows the countess opportunity to put her down ( plus, arabella found it difficult to refuse ruadhrí’s advances. he was not a very open man, and she had been told her whole life it was the wife’s function to be pliant, and, as such, she should be ever indulgent of him ─ . and how could she not be curious to his intentions when he sought her so ? ). ❝ of course, my lord, ❞ the wife responds at once, momentarily afeared she has hesitated for too long, but, hopeful he would still wish for her company, she allows herself to mold against him, taking the arm promptly offered. ❝ has your morning been pleasant thus far ? did you wish for me to take to your chambers ? you could have fetched a boy to tell me if that was the case. ❞ arabella had experience with the busy schedules of a well - seasoned courtier, being the daughter of one and ( once ) sister of another, and she would so hate to impose.
