“Not too tight,” Evie warned, inhaling until her ribcage expanded as far as it would go.
Jaw set with determination, Agnes tugged and pulled. Lorna helped by smoothing the material around Evie’s ribcage and forcing the pieces closer.
Evie exhaled. “Do not make it any tighter,” she warned after seeing the glint in Agnes’s eyes. She glanced downward and held up both hands for a full-on stop. “You have pushed what little bustline I have clear up to my chin. My nipples are about to pop out.”
“Nay, m’lady.” Lorna adjusted the frill of the chemise peeping above the neckline. “This fine shift will keep everything properly covered. I’ll pull the lace a wee bit higher to ensure nothing peeks out.”
“Step away so I might see,” Mistress Kemp ordered.
Both maids moved away, their focus locked on the tiny woman, while Evie stood on display.
The seamstress circled her, tugging here and there. All the while, she muttered under her breath. Occasionally, she clucked like a disgruntled chicken. After walking around her twice, she halted and nodded at the tight-fitting sleeves. “After ye’ve laced the sleeves better, I shall add the pearl buttons and finish the hem.” She squinted up into Evie’s face and gave another curt nod. “Jewelry. Hair. Her ladyship will then be ready to present herself.”
“Ye do the sleeves, Aggie. I’ll fetch the necklace.” Lorna spun away and began pawing through what remained of the treasures spread across the bed. “The golden circlet with the green stone. Do ye nay think so, Aggie?”
Agnes beamed at Evie, then nodded. “Aye. It will crown her ladyship perfectly, and Himself will be verra pleased.”
Evie stood there, the center of attention, but most definitely feeling ignored. Her opinion counted for nothing it seemed. The staff’s primary concern was pleasingHimself.
“How much longer?” she asked, not caring that she sounded ratty. She felt ratty. Cross. Agitated. And all the other adjectives that didn’t begin to cover the situation.
“I am finished,” the seamstress announced, snapping the thread connecting her needle to a tiny button on Evie’s right sleeve. She turned and left the room without another word.
“What an odd woman.” Evie examined the fancy buttons and delicate lace the woman had added. Most decidedly an odd woman, but talented. She cringed as Agnes and Lorna combed out her curls, plaited them into a complicated braid, then coiled and pinned it to the back of her head.
“And now the circlet,” Lorna said as she settled the headpiece in place and centered the jewel on Evie’s forehead. “It belonged to Himself’s mother,” she added with a knowing smile. “Lady Annag never wore this. Himself ordered it brought to ye from the vault.”
Evie wasn’t certain if that was good or bad. All she knew was that the information made breathing difficult. “Will I do?” she asked as both maids stepped away and folded their hands.
“Better than do, m’lady,” Agnes said.
“Aye,” Lorna agreed. “Her ladyship looks grand, if ye dinna mind my saying.”
She didn’t feel grand, but she supposed looking the part was half the battle.
Another loud rap on the door sealed her doom. “It is time.”
Chapter Eleven
Quinn stared downat his clasped hands, pondering all that was about to take place. The last time he waited for a woman in front of this altar, it turned out to be a curse rather than the blessing promised. This time would be different. Life with Evie would be all he hoped for in a marriage. He might not know the unusual lass well, but he knew enough. They had a future. All they need to do was embrace it and move forward.
The hinges of the heavy oak door to the modest kirk softly whined, drawing his attention to the entrance. Gilbert appeared, striding down the aisle with a gloating air. The man knew he wasn’t wanted here. “Fern sent me,” he said with an upward toss of his smirk, as if daring Quinn to oust him. “She wanted to ensure ye had plenty of witnesses.” His leer softened to a congenial smile—almost. “And she instructed me to return with a detailed report since she couldna be here herself.”
“Welcome, my brother.” Quinn gave a curt nod, determined not to allow Gilbert to cast a shadow on the day.
“Reckon, they’ll bring her in soon?” Dugan asked in a loud whisper. He cast a nervous glance around the candlelit room as if lightning might strike him at any moment.
“What’s wrong with ye, man?” Rosstan asked. “Feel as though ye’re about to burst into flames?”
“Father Gabriel.” Clan war chief, Kendric Macwaters, jerked a thumb in Dugan’s direction. “Might ye do an exorcism while we wait? Could prove verra entertaining, ye ken?”
“Settle down now,” warned the diminutive man as he quietly flipped through the pages of his tattered book. He licked his thumb, gave them all a narrow-eyed scowl, then returned to perusing his Bible. “Dinna forget our Lord watches each and every one of ye.”
Quinn tucked his chin and grinned to himself as all three of his friends glanced at each other like lads about to take a thrashing. Three hulking warriors bested by a wisp of a man backed by God Almighty.
“That includes yerself, my chieftain,” Father Gabriel added without looking up from the pages.
“Aye, Father.” Quinn resettled his stance and turned his focus back to the door. Surely, they would bring Evie soon. He had sent Mrs. Dingwall to fetch her hours ago. A distant rumble of thunder made him turn and look up at the large wooden cross hanging behind the altar. Well, perhaps he hadn’t sent for her hours ago, but it had been a very long time.
