Connor inclined his head, though his thoughts drifted again, unbidden, to soft hands and the quiet laughter of his betrothed.
“A laird must be firm,” he replied evenly, pushing back his chair.
And yet, as he dismissed the council and stepped back into the light-filled corridor, he thought of one thing.
Tonight I take her to me favorite place to share it with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Idaenae ken what to wear for such an occasion as night fishin’,” Eva muttered to herself, pressing her lips thin.
She paced the length of her chamber like a caged bird, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath her restless steps. One dress after another was lifted from the wardrobe, held up, then cast aside with a huff of frustration. The dresses seemed to mock her, too fine or too plain, none of them quite right.
As she paused, one hand still clutching a sleeve of wool, her thoughts drifted back to the night before. She saw Connor across the chessboard, the candlelight catching the sharp lines of his face, his laughter surprising them both. He had been kind then, patient, even gentle as he kissed her hand. The memory only made her chest tighten, for she still did not know how to be with a man whose moods shifted like the Highland weather.
She was smoothing a crease from a bodice when a knock sounded at the door, sharp enough to make her jump. For aheartbeat, she dared to think it might be Connor, come early to fetch her. Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she crossed the room and pulled the door open.
Instead, she found Amelie standing there, hands folded and eyes bright with curiosity.
“Can I be of help today, Miss?” Amelie asked, dipping into a small curtsey.
Eva wasted no time, reaching out to tug her inside and closing the door behind them.
“Aye, ye can,” Eva said quickly, lowering her voice as if the walls might listen. “I need yer help choosin’ a dress, or I’ll go mad before the sun even sets.”
Amelie laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, as she glanced at the scattered garments.
“Saints preserve us, it cannae be that dire,” she teased, stooping to pick up a fallen skirt.
Eva let out a breath and shook her head. “I’ve never been on a night fishin’ outing,” she confessed, her cheeks warming. “I daenae ken what’s proper, and I want to wear me own dress, but I daenae wish to disappoint the Laird if I daenae look like a Lady of his station.”
Amelie studied her for a moment, her expression softening with understanding. She crossed to the wardrobe and pushed aside richer fabrics until she found a simple dress of light yellow wool.
“This one,” she said with certainty, holding it up between them. “The wool will keep ye warm once the sun’s gone, and it’s fine enough without bein’ fussy.”
Eva reached out to touch the fabric, surprised by how right it felt beneath her fingers.
“And a cloak?” she asked, already imagining the chill by the water.
Amelie nodded and pulled the brown cloak from its peg. “Aye, this one will do nicely, and it’ll not catch the damp too badly.”
They set about dressing her, Amelie moving with practiced hands as Eva stood still and tried to calm her racing thoughts. First came the linen shift, soft and worn from washing, then the stays laced snug but not tight enough to steal her breath. The yellow wool gown followed, settling over her hips with a comforting weight, its sleeves buttoned carefully at the wrist. Finally, Amelie draped the cloak around her shoulders, fastening it with a simple clasp at her throat.
“Ye look just right,” Amelie said, stepping back to admire her work.
Eva turned slowly and caught sight of herself in the looking glass. She looked… herself, but more than that too, as if the girl from the village and the Lady she was becoming had finally met. The sight made her throat ache with emotion.
“I hope it’s enough,” Eva murmured, more to herself than to Amelie.
The maid smiled and reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair. “It’s more than enough,” she said gently. “The Laird asked ye to fish, nae to sit on a throne.”
Eva laughed softly at that, some of the tightness easing from her. She moved to the chair and sat while Amelie braided her hair, weaving it into a simple plait that rested over her shoulder. Each tug and twist felt grounding, a reminder that she was not alone in this strange new life. When Amelie tied the ribbon at the end, she gave a satisfied nod.
“There now,” Amelie said, stepping back once more. “A lady ready for night fishin’, if ever there was one.”
Eva rose, drawing a steadying breath. Whatever awaited her by the loch, she would meet it as herself, uncertainty and all.
“I cannae believe it, Amelie,” she said softly, glancing toward the door as if the night itself waited beyond it. “This is the first time I’ve ever done somethin’ just for fun, just for me.” The words felt strange on her tongue, as though admitting them made them more real.
