The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

I do!” With a sly glance at Magnus, the woman was out the door and gone before either of them could speak.

With a puzzled frown, Brenna stared at the door. “Well, for goodness’ sake, I guess it slipped her mind until now.”

“She is a busy woman. Keeps up with a great deal.” He moved to stand beside her at the long worktable in front of the window. A glance around explained all the odd smells. Shelves with tightly wrapped bundles, dark glass bottles, cloth-covered crocks, and small wooden boxes filled every available space. Dried herbs hung from the corners of the low ceiling. The cot in the corner beside a table set with fierce-looking saws, knives, and awls made him cringe. “I canna say that I have ever been in here before—thankfully.”

“’Tis a fine healer’s room.” Brenna smiled, beaming as though she had just stepped through Heaven’s gates. She resumed grinding the mixture in the mortar, pulverizing what looked like dried sticks and leaves. Her smile faded, and her mixing slowed. “And Gretna didna act any different toward me because of yesterday.”

He set aside the pestle and took her hands in his. “There is only today. That is why I am here.”

The puzzled crease returned to her brow. “Ye’re not making sense.”

He kissed her knuckles again, deciding he liked the pungent aroma the herbs gave her skin. “Aye. I am making sense.” Still holding both her hands, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the gold band on her finger. “We decided to marry at once. Did we not?”

Her gaze dropped. “Aye,” she said quietly. “But with a new day, if ye’ve had a change of heart, I understand.”

“My only change of heart is that I love ye more today than I did the day before.”

“And ye’ve made me love ye more,” she whispered. She blinked fast and hard against her unshed tears. “Dinna make me cry.”

“Catriona, Mercy, and Gretna are waiting to help ye get ready.” Magnus gently pulled her away from the table and steered her toward the door. “Alexander, Graham, Ian, and the priest are already in the chapel.” He had decided the best way to move this fine day forward was to sweep her into it before she could refuse. “We shall wed in the privacy of the chapel, just as ye wished. With the six of them as our witnesses. Then we shall celebrate with all, in the keep.” Gaining momentum, he walked her up the hall to where Catriona, Mercy, and Gretna clustered together, their faces wreathed in smiles. “Tonight will be our first feast as husband and wife.”

“But—”

“Nay,” he hushed her as if she was a child. “I am more than a little proud to have won such a woman.” With the gentlest of kisses, he tickled the words across her lips. “Mo chridhe, m’anam, mo chuid.”

“My heart, my soul, my all,” she repeated, then turned her face aside. “Ye are certain?” she softly asked, staring at the floor as though unable to believe in such happiness.

“More certain than I have ever been about anything.”

She briefly closed her eyes while a tremulous smile played across her lips. With a squeeze of his hand, she opened her eyes to his, then turned toward the trio of females barely containing their excitement. “I am ready.”

The ladies swarmed her and swept her away on a sea of lilting chatter.

Magnus headed for the peace and quiet of his modest room, thanking the gods he had been born a male where scrubbing and dressing was a private affair.

*

“Yer eye is sharp as ever, Catriona,” Gretna said as she and Mercy encased Brenna in the silk damask bodice and overskirt. Holding the garment together at the waist, she eyed it with a critical frown. “I dinna believe it’ll take any tacking in or letting out at all. With the lacing good and tight, ’twill be a perfect fit!”

“Mind the sleeves,” Mercy cautioned. “We wanted yer lovely shoulders left bare, so we used the same lace we overlaid across the silk of yer underskirt and stomacher. There wasn’t time for proper smocking on the sleeves, but the lace adds a perfect drape.” She moved the delicate material back and forth through her fingers. “So soft and lovely, but also very fragile.”

“It’s the most beautiful dress I have ever seen,” Brenna whispered as the women tugged, fluffed, and adjusted to ensure the perfect display. She smoothed her hands down the snug bodice that came to a point right above the creamy lace layered over the matching petticoat underskirt revealed by the open cut of the gown. The dark blue of the silk damask draped perfectly, the overskirt made even fuller by tight pleating at the waist. Deep flounces of the material gathered back at the hips, then bunched into a bustle at the small of her back. The ladies had even managed a modest train to flow behind her. Never had she possessed such finery.

“I wish we’d had time to add a wee bit of boning to the bodice,” Catriona said as she examined their handiwork. “But I think yer stays will do. I believe I like this better than a full-on mantua.” She stepped back a few paces, tilting her head, first one way, then the other. “Aye, this’ll do just fine. Ye’re a vision of loveliness itself.” A happy sigh escaped her. “And that dark blue is yer color, lass. Matches yer eyes and makes yer hair shine even more golden.”

Words didn’t exist for her to make them understand how much their acceptance, generosity, and kindness meant to her. “How can I ever thank ye?” She pressed the corners of her eyes, willing the threat of tears to abate.

“Dinna ye dare cry!” Gretna said, jumping to hold both hands under Brenna’s face. “Ye’ll spot yer lovely silk.” She looked over her shoulder. “Quick! The lass needs a cloth. Ye know as well as I there’ll be tears. I’ve never seen a wedding without one.”

Catriona placed a lacy-edged handkerchief