“Aye,” she said softly, “and so are ye.” She lifted the gown, studying it with a critical eye born of years of mending and making do. “This was made for a lady. Ye,” she added, glancing pointedly at Eva.
Eva changed carefully, with the help of Amelie and Annabeth.
The wool settled over her shoulders like it belonged there, the weight comforting rather than heavy. When she turned toward the mirror, she scarcely recognized herself. She looked, not like a village girl playing dress, but like a woman stepping into a life she had never dared imagine.
Annabeth stepped behind Eva. She placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, her grip warm and sure.
“Ye wear it well,” she said, voice thick with pride.
Eva swallowed hard and met her mother’s eyes in the mirror, seeing her own fear and hope reflected back.
“I’m still me,” Eva said quietly, as if seeking reassurance.
Annabeth smiled and shook her head. “Aye, ye are,” she replied, “and that’s why ye’ll be a fine wife, no matter whose name ye carry.” She reached up and smoothed the collar, her touch lingering.
Amelie clapped her hands together in delight. “Saints preserve us,” she said, grinning wide, “the Laird will lose his breath clean away.”
Eva laughed then, the sound bright and free, and for the first time, she truly believed it might all be real.
Annabeth held Eva’s hands and studied her face with quiet seriousness.
“I’ll nae lie to ye, lass,” she said, her voice low and honest, “when I first heard ye were to wed the Laird, fear near stole me breath.”
Eva stilled, listening close, her heart thudding as Annabeth went on.
“But seein’ ye now, standin’ so sure and calm, I ken I had nothin’ to fear at all. Ye were made for this.”
Eva swallowed and squeezed her mother’s fingers. “Ye feared for me happiness, and there's nothin’ wrong with that,” she said softly, more statement than question.
Annabeth nodded once, her eyes shining. “Aye, I feared ye’d be bent or broken by a hard life,” she replied, “but instead I see a woman who willnae bend easy.”
Annabeth lifted her chin, pride straightening her tired shoulders. “Ye’ll be Lady McLaren,” she said firmly, “and ye’ll be a good one, rulin' with strength and justice both.”
Eva’s breath caught as the words settled deep in her chest.
“I am so proud of ye,” Annabeth finished, her voice trembling despite herself.
Eva leaned forward and rested her brow against her mother’s.
“Thank ye, Maither,” she whispered, tears slipping free at last. She laughed softly through them and added teasingly, “And I’m proud of ye as well, for raisin’ such a fine daughter.”
Annabeth chuckled, brushing away Eva’s tears with her thumbs.
“Ye’ve always had it in ye,” Annabeth said gently. “All I did was keep ye fed and loved.”
Eva shook her head, smiling through her tears. “Nay,” she replied, “ye taught me kindness, and courage, and how to stand when the world presses hard.”
“Och, ye two are goin’ to make me shed a few tears,” Amelie said.
The two women chuckled at the maid’s words as they held each other. For a long moment, neither spoke.
Eva felt steadier than she ever had before, wrapped in her mother’s pride and her own quiet resolve.
I will be Lady McLaren.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I’ve had enough of his moods,” she muttered, fists clenching at her sides, “wearin’ a weddin’ gown and nae knowin’ if I’m a bride at all.”
