Page 37 of The Finest Scottish Fate

“That is not fair.” It was accurate, but not fair. Evie dropped her head into her hands. “The longer I stay, the more difficult it will be to leave.”

“Good.” Morganna rose, went to the massive wardrobe on the other side of the room, and threw the doors wide open. “I took the liberty of spelling in a few things. ’Twill make ye look as if ye arrived with trunks and trunks of clothing.” Her top half disappeared in the clutter of velvets, wools, silks, and linens as she rummaged in the large cabinet’s depths. “I’ve the perfect cotehardie and mantle in mind.”

Evie stared down at the wool dress she’d worn since changing clothes. “I just put this on. What’s wrong with it?”

Morganna emerged from the wardrobe, her arms loaded down with layers. “Nothing is wrong with it, but afore ye go down to meet Drummond’s guests, ye must finish dressing.” She nodded at Evie’s chest. “Ye’ve donned yer chemise and wool kirtle. That’s all well and good for a workday around the keep, but with another clan visiting, ye must add the finer layers of a ranking noblewoman. An outer gown and a mantle with a nice brooch or two.” Without emptying her arms, she angled around so she could point a finger at Evie’s head. “How would ye feel about a veil? We’ve a nice silk one.”

“I am not a nun. Nor am I a noblewoman. As soon as I open my mouth, they’re going to know that.” No fancy gown or veil could hide her Southern drawl. This was not going to go well. She felt it in her gut.

“Then speak as little as possible. Be a woman of mystery.” Morganna held up a burgundy velvet creation with fuller skirts and tight sleeves that didn’t look very comfortable. “On with it now, and I’ll get ye buttoned up. There’s no time to waste. I promise ye, Lady Merelys will be fully garbed in every bell, bauble, and ribbon Clan Heberdy can afford.”

Drowning in the weightiness of the velvet yardage, Evie fought to pull the fitted bodice and tight sleeves in place over the dress she already wore. “This is ridiculous. Are you sure we’re not supposed to take off the first one and wear this one in its place?”

“Nay, lass. This is the outer gown. It gets wicked cold in the Highlands. Ye need all these layers for warmth.”

Evie held up her arms, eyeing the long golden tassels dangling from the wrists of her sleeves. “It’ll be a miracle if I don’t trip over these.”

“Walk slowly with a short stride and keep yer forearms gracefully lifted. Dinna march along like ye do when ye’re wearing yer jeans.” Morganna settled a gold-trimmed cloak of dark blue velvet around Evie’s shoulders. “And we fasten yer mantle with these fine jeweled brooches.” She stepped back, her head tipping to one side as she gave Evie a critical up-and-down look. “Are ye certain ye dinna wish to wear a veil? ’Twould be verra lovely under yer circlet. And as a bonus, it might make them think ye’ve already wed yer Drummond. After all, a married woman always covers her hair.”

“Can we not complicate this any more than it already is?” Evie was half tempted to return to her twenty-first-century clothes, shimmy her way out the window, down the castle wall, and head for the sidhe hill. Her ridiculous heart pinched her hard enough to double her over. She cleared her throat and ignored the pain. “Simple is always better, and I think we’re messing up.”

Morganna stared at her. “Whatever do ye mean, lass?”

“What I mean is, if I’m not going to stay here, wouldn’t Drummond be better off with a woman ready and waiting to step into the wife slot?”

Tossing both hands in the air again, Morganna clucked and fussed like a disgruntled hen. “Never in all my seven hundred years have I ever met a mortal so willing to cast aside that which would bring them more joy than they could ever imagine.”

Something inside Evie snapped. “Just shut up, will you? You can do magic to protect yourself. All I have is me.” A sob escaped her, frustrating her even more. She never cried. Hated it worse than anything. She thumped her chest, flinching when she hit the heavy ruby pendant and made it dig into her breastbone. “I’m already living on borrowed time. I should’ve been dead a long time ago. The Grim Reaper would have an easier time catching up with me here.”

Morganna’s dark brows slowly drew together. “I dinna understand.”

“I figured you did all the research.” Evie didn’t attempt to veil her contempt for the immortal fairy, the being who didn’t have to worry about mortals killing her. “Did your background check not fill you in on all the gory details about the car accident that killed my parents and my siblings? Did it not tell you that the doctors couldn’t believe it when I survived? Said I was a miracle?”

“Petra failed to inform me about that,” Morganna said, her voice soft and low. “How old were ye, lass, when this happened?”

“Six.” Evie swiped at the tears and blinked away the chance of any more. “My brother was four. My sister, two.” She held up her chin and forced in a deep breath. “Grandmama and Granddaddy raised me. Then they died a few years ago. Here, I’m all I’ve got—especially if something happens to Drummond. At least back home, I had friends I knew I could count on in a pinch. They became the family I no longer had.”

“I could be yer friend, Evie. All of us at Craig Durness could be.”

“Until I make my choice, and then you’re history, right? After all, a woman in the fourteenth century can’t very well be consorting with mystical beings if she doesn’t want to get put on a rotisserie. And if I were to go back to my time, I’m sure you’d probably erase my memories or something. Isn’t that what you do when humans don’t do what you want them to do?”

The bad thing was, something deep inside her knew that no matter how many of her memories they erased, she’d never forget Drummond. She’d already stayed too long. That damn kiss had been her undoing.

Morganna bowed her head as if praying for wisdom. “I am sorry, lass. Sorry that the curse pulled ye into this terrible darkness.”

“Yeah, well. What’s done is done—right?” A depressing resignation settled over Evie. Just like she’d felt when walking through the cemetery and placing flowers on all her family members’ graves. She was well and truly screwed again, just as she had been then. Not that she wasn’t a fighter. Not that she’d ever consider giving up before she ever got started. But this time—

She shook her head. Fate wasn’t fighting fair. It had baited the trap with something she’d searched for a long time: Mr. Right. But the cost terrified her.

She glanced over at the table where the remains of their tea sat for anyone to discover. “Don’t you need to poof away the tea bags or something before we make our grand entrance to the clan, or are there more layers I’m supposed to put on?”

Morganna went to the table, grabbed the tea bags by their strings, and flung them into the fire. With a grim expression, she gave Evie a formal curtsy. “We are ready. Just don’t forget to address me as Mistress Martha. Since ye have seen through my glamour here, it’ll nay hide me from yer eyes any longer. Yer Drummond will be the same, but since he doesn’t trust the Fae, I dinna think he will be a problem.”

“I intend to be a woman of mystery, remember? A silent one.” All she needed to do was come out with a stray y’all or one of Grandmama’s quirky sayings, and Drummond would finally see clearly why she didn’t belong here. Maybe she should do that after all. Maybe that was a solid plan that would make things easier.

But the wants of her heart overruled the demons of her common sense. She couldn’t do that to Drummond. It wouldn’t be fair, and he deserved fair. Actually, he deserved a whole lot more than fair, but she didn’t know if she was capable of giving it to him. Granddaddy and Grandmama would be so ashamed if they knew they’d raised such a coward.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Without waiting for Morganna, Evie marched out the door and startled the large man standing beside it. With a formal bow, he hurried to close it behind her and Morganna, then stood at attention once more. “Thank you…uhm…” She couldn’t remember his name.