“I have plenty o’ time. Every wedding needs flowers, and yer bride will thank you.” She replaced the lily with a satisfied smile and clasped her hands to her chest. “Perfection.”
Leana abandoned the task of securing massive bows to the pews to come view Ismay’s handiwork. “You should move this one to here.” Leana reached for a white flower and Ismay smacked her fingers. Their cousin drew back her hand and aimed a pouty glower at Ismay.
“Return to the castle, lasses. You shouldn’t keep my bride waiting.” He wrapped an arm around each of their waists and ushered them to the double doors of the church. “The carriage will take you back.”
“Verra weel,” Leana grumbled while she threw on her pelisse. “Youcan finish the bows.”
Ismay draped the McTaggart tartan over her head to create a hood. “Mistress Gallagher will be a vision in her dress. She made it herself. She is talented, that one.”
“Aye, she is.” He smoothed a hand over his jacket sleeve. The new clothes Eddi made for him fit better than anything he’d ever owned.
Once the lasses were gone, he went in search of Reverend Adair and found him in the back part of the church bent over a dying fire in the hearth.
“Is that all the kindling you have?” Fergus asked, eying the stingy stack piled on the stone floor.
The minister tossed a sour look in his direction. “I have enough, Mr. McTaggart. If you had yer way, it would be as hot as hell in here.”
“Weel, maybe everyone would be more motivated to attend church if their bums werena frozen to the pews.” He headed out the back door to collect more wood from the large stack leaning against the wall.
When he returned, he heard voices coming from the sanctuary. He deposited the wood on the minister’s stack and smacked his hands together to remove debris. “I’ll see who has arrived while you build up that pitiful fire.”
Lords Thorne and St. Ambrose were standing in the middle of the church. The marquess turned a slow circle, studying the stained glass windows. “It is a lovely place for a wedding, but the castle suits my purpose well enough. Is the minister usually here this early?”
Fergus cleared his throat. “Reverend Adair is in the back, my laird.”
Lord Thorne came forward with a smile to clasp his hand. “I didn’t expect to find you at the church this time of day. You must be eager for the wedding. Congratulations on marrying the second most beautiful woman at Aldmist Fell.”
Lord St. Ambrose excused himself to speak with the minister.
“I hope you don’t mind our early arrival,” Thorne said. “Helena insisted we inspect the church to make certain everything is in order.”
Even if Fergus did mind, he had no authority to deny the baron and his guest entry. Lord Thorne was master at Aldmist Fell. Fortunately, Fergus had grown to like the man. That hadn’t been the case when Thorne started sniffing around Helena’s skirts in London. Fergus knew a scoundrel when he saw one, but Thorne had turned out to be a pleasant surprise. He was a good husband to Helena and loved her, which was all Fergus had ever wanted for the lass.
“Everything is in order. The only thing missing is my bride,” Fergus said.
The baron grinned. “It shouldn’t be much longer. The ladies assured us everything was being managed before they tossed us from the castle.”
Fergus doubted that was how the baron and marquess wound up nosing around the church, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Eddi had told him about the marquess’s wishes to marry her friend and Miss Kendrick’s adamant refusal to become his wife. He didn’t understand why the lass kept refusing him when she could gain respectability, but he’d never been good at sorting out a woman’s reasoning. It was enough for him to keep up with Eddi. He’d let Lord St. Ambrose worry about Eddi’s friend.
The marquess returned from the back room. “It is done.”
“Splendid,” Lord Thorne drawled. “The hard part is behind you.”
“Your insincerity warms the heart, Thorne.”
“It is the least I can offer, given how gracious you were to extend your stay.”
Fergus left the men to their good-natured banter to stoke the fire in the back. He kept it burning steadily over the next hour and ignored Reverend Adair’s muttered curses each time Fergus tossed a log onto the flames. When the minister left to climb the tower stairs, Fergus made his way to the front doors to await his bride.
At the first peal of the bell, he slipped outside, mindless of the cold. He wanted to be the first to see Eddi. Two carriages approached from the West. Eddi, Helena, Gracie, and Miss Kendrick rode in the first one, while his mother and sister shared the second with Mr. and Mrs. Mason.
On Fergus’s orders, the rest of the McTaggart clan was to perform their duties as if today were any other day. Aldmist Fell did not run itself. Besides, if every member of the family squeezed into the church at once, there wouldn’t be room to move, and his bride might feel the absence of her own family.
A heavy woolen cape covered all but the bottom ruffle of Eddi’s gown, and a hood hid her silvery hair, but the smile she bestowed on him as he offered his hand to help her descend the carriage steps was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. A warm tingle began in his chest, expanding and spreading throughout his body.
“Let’s see you inside before you freeze, lass.” He led her into the cozy church and urged her to sit on a bench just inside the door while the footmen assisted the wedding guests. Ismay bustled through the front door and passed a pair of dainty satin slippers to Eddi.
As their guests filed past to find seats, he knelt before his bride to unlace her boots. He eased up her skirts, catching a glimpse of her slender calf before he forced himself to focus on the laces. When he removed the boot, he held her small foot. It was barely as large as his hand, and he was struck by how delicate she was on the outside. Appearances could be deceiving, however, because she possessed a will forged of iron that would keep him on his toes for the rest of their lives.
