Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two days had passed, and Eva grew restless within the quiet of her chamber. She had not seen Connor once, nor heard word of him, and the absence gnawed at her thoughts.
When a knock finally sounded at her bedroom door, her heart leapt painfully in her chest. She drew a steadying breath, hoping with all she had that it would be him.
“Good day, miss,” Amelie said brightly from the threshold, her eyes shining with excitement. “The most wonderful thing has arrived, and I could scarce wait to tell ye.”
She clasped her hands together, barely able to contain herself. “It fair near made the whole corridor buzz.”
Eva blinked at her, hope dimming but curiosity stirring in its place. “What’s that, then?” she asked, smoothing her hair though her hands trembled. “Ye look as though ye are ready to burst.” She forced a small smile, trying to match Amelie’s cheer.
Amelie stepped aside at once, and a small procession of servants filed into the room.
They carried parcels wrapped in linen and tied with ribbon, stacking them carefully atop Eva’s table and chairs.
The scent of fresh cloth and lavender filled the chamber, rich and unfamiliar.
Eva stared in stunned silence as the servants moved with practiced care.
“Set those by the window,” Amelie instructed, pointing smartly. “Aye, gently now, those are fine pieces.” She nodded with approval as each parcel was placed just so. “That’ll do, ye may go on now.”
Once the door closed behind them, the room felt suddenly smaller, crowded with anticipation. Eva turned slowly, taking in the bundles as though they might vanish if she blinked. Her pulse quickened, and she pressed a hand to her chest. The truth dawned on her all at once.
“They’re from the dressmaker,” Eva said softly, awe threading her voice. “From Brawna in the village.” She swallowed, still hardly believing it. “I never owned such fine things in all me life.”
“Oh, and won’t ye just look at them,” Amelie exclaimed, clasping her hands again. “Go on, miss, unwrap them quick, we must see if they fit ye proper.” She bounced on her heels, grinning wide. “I’ve been dyin’ to see ye in somethin’ grand.”
Eva loosened the ribbons with careful fingers, peeling back linen to reveal rich wool and soft linen.
Each dress was finer than the last, deep jewel tones stitched with delicate embroidery.
She brushed her fingertips along a sleeve, marveling at the craftsmanship.
For a moment, even her worry over Connor faded beneath the wonder.
“These are far too much,” Eva murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’ve nay call to wear such beauty, Amelie.” She lifted one dress against herself, studying the fall of it. “I feel like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life.”
“Nonsense,” Amelie said firmly, lifting a gown from the pile. “Ye’re to be a laird’s wife, and ye’ll dress like one.” She held the fabric up to Eva’s shoulder, nodding approvingly. “They suit ye already, seein’ them so.”
Together they carried the dresses to the wardrobe, hanging each one with care.
Amelie arranged them neatly, smoothing the fabric and stepping back to admire her work.
Eva watched in quiet awe, her heart heavy yet hopeful all the same.
When the doors closed at last, the wardrobe held more than gowns; it held the promise of a future she was still learning to believe in.
Eva frowned as she settled onto the edge of the chair, her gaze drifting back to the wardrobe filled with finery.
The dresses were beautiful, yet they felt heavy with expectation rather than joy.
Her fingers twisted together in her lap as unease settled deep in her chest. She let out a quiet sigh that Amelie did not miss.
“How can ye be lookin’ so glum, miss, with all those fine dresses starin’ back at ye?” Amelie asked, planting her hands on her hips. “Most lasses would be fair swoonin’ at the sight.” She tilted her head, studying Eva’s face with concern.
Eva looked up, worry clouding her eyes. “The Laird still hasnae spoken a word to me,” she said softly. “I cannae help thinkin’ he doesnae want to marry me after all.” Her voice wavered despite her effort to sound calm.
Amelie scoffed and waved a dismissive hand.
“That’s pure nonsense, and I’ll hear nay more of it,” she said firmly.
“I ken for a fact there’s to be a weddin’, because cook’s already puttin’ by supplies for a grand feast.” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer.
“The maids are braidin’ garlands and gossipin’ somethin’ fierce. ”
Eva straightened, surprise breaking through her worry. “They are?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I dinnae ken any of that was happenin’.” Hope flickered, fragile but bright.
“Aye, they are,” Amelie said with a nod. “There will be a weddin’, make nay mistake.” She lowered her voice slightly, as if sharing a secret. “Give the Laird time, miss, for me brother David says he’s been busy as the devil himself. A scoutin' mission and reports and maps this and that.”
Eva’s brows lifted as she absorbed this. “David told ye that?” she asked. “I dinnae ken the Laird was so busy with scoutin’ and such.” Her shoulders eased, some of the tension slipping away.
“Aye, busy enough to wear out three men,” Amelie replied. “Me brother’s his man-at-arms, and he says the Laird’s hardly slept.” She smiled knowingly. “A man like that doesnae forget a bride, I promise ye, he's just tendin’ to his duties is all.”
Eva let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I suppose I’ve let me thoughts run wild,” she admitted. “It’s hard nae to, when everythin’ feels so new and uncertain.” She glanced back toward the door, half-expecting Connor to appear.
Amelie crossed the room and squeezed Eva’s hand. “That’s enough broodin’ for one day,” she said gently. “Come now, let’s think on happier matters.” Her grin returned, bright and mischievous. “We should decide how ye’ll wear yer hair on the weddin’ day.”
Eva hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Aye,” she said quietly. “That sounds like somethin’ I can manage.” She moved to the small stool near the window and sat as Amelie fetched the brush.
Amelie began brushing Eva’s hair with long, careful strokes. “Ye’ve the loveliest hair I’ve ever seen,” she said. “So thick and soft, like spun gold when the light hits it just right.” She separated a section expertly between her fingers.
Eva felt herself relax under the steady rhythm. “I’ve always just braided it plain,” she said. “In the village, there was nay time nor reason for anythin’ fancy.” She watched her reflection, barely recognizing the woman she saw.
“Well, that’ll nae do for a weddin’,” Amelie replied, beginning a neat braid along Eva’s temple. “We’ll try a few styles and see what suits ye best.” She stepped back to assess her work.
Eva smiled shyly. “It feels strange,” she admitted. “As if I’m dressin’ up as someone braver than I am.” Her fingers brushed the braid, marveling at it.
Amelie leaned in, her voice firm but kind. “Ye are braver than ye ken,” she said. “Any lass who stands her ground with a laird has plenty of courage.” She finished the braid and tied it off with ribbon.
They tried another style then another, braids pinned and loosened, curls twisted and freed.
Eva found herself laughing softly as Amelie fussed and hummed. For the first time in days, the tight knot in her chest eased. By the time Amelie stepped back at last, Eva’s reflection showed not just a bride-to-be, but a woman beginning to believe she belonged.
Eva stared at her reflection once more, hardly recognizing the woman who stared back at her.
The braids framed her face with a softness she had never allowed herself, and her posture had straightened without her meaning to.
For the first time, she did not see only a village girl hardened by work and worry.
She saw the faint shape of a Lady, one who might yet stand at the head of Clan McLaren without bowing her spirit.
Her heart fluttered at the thought, fear and pride tangling together. She thought of her mother resting in comfort and of Jason laughing with sweets in his pockets, and she felt a steadiness settle in her bones.
“Perhaps I could do it,” she murmured to herself, scarcely daring to believe it. “Perhaps I could be enough.”
Amelie caught her quiet words in the mirror and smiled. “Ye look every bit a lady already, miss,” she said warmly. “All ye needed was a bit of polish to see what was there all along.”
Eva swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded, unable to trust her voice.
“I never thought I’d see meself this way,” Eva admitted at last. She lifted her chin slightly, testing the sight of herself with new resolve. “But if this is the path I’ve chosen, I’ll walk it with me head held high.”
Amelie clapped her hands together, brisk and cheerful. “That’s the spirit, and now it’s time for tea,” she declared. “All this thinkin’ works up a thirst.” She turned toward the door with a grin. “Sit tight, miss, and I’ll fetch us somethin’ warm.”
Left alone, Eva rested her hands on the vanity and took one last look at herself. The girl in the glass did not look smaller than the castle around her anymore. She drew in a slow breath, steady and sure. By the time Amelie returned, Eva knew she would not be hiding again.