He gave her a reproachful look.
She screwed one side of her mouth into a wry smile. "Not really, I don't, and you cannot deny that I have never interfered in your life."
"True."
"But that doesn't mean I can't see what is happening. What measures have you taken to discover the truth?"
"That is nothing you need concern yourself with."
Sophie sighed. "I feared you would say that. Marcus. I like the girl. Still, I would ask that you inform me if any… problems arise."
"I will keep your request in mind," he said, and wished her a good day.
Her wedding day brought with it all the promise of a hailstorm in June. Wind blew in clouds so dark, it looked as though God's wrath would rain down upon them. Elise sent up a prayer of thanks for Sophie's experienced hands. She held her breath while Sophie deftly fastened the buttons that went from the neckline of the yellow silk gown to the small of her back.
"There." Sophie gave a final tug to smooth out the dress. Elise turned as Sophie reached for the matching lace veil. "Look at this beautiful work."
"Yes," Elise agreed. "Winnie is a master needlewoman."
Sophie smiled and positioned the veil's band atop Elise's hair. The lace fell to her waistline. A lace overskirt continued the illusion of fog amid petals to the floor. Sophie stepped back. Elise watched her soon-to-be-cousin, touched by the genuine pleasure on her face.
"Lovely." Sophie's expression sharpened. "Well, Cousin, you've done it now."
Elise glanced at the clock on her mantel. "I still have half an hour."
"A full thirty minutes in which to explain to Marcus why you changed your mind."
Elise jerked her gaze onto the countess.
"Come now, you know your anxiety is only due to the gravity of the vows you will take." A gleam appeared in Sophie's eyes. "Unless you fear you cannot keep your vows."
"You MacGregors," Elise began, then amended, "Ashlunds," at the look on Sophie's face. "Born troublemakers."
"A long line of troublemakers." Her mouth assumed an impish grin. "Perhaps you are nervous about the wedding night? I have not once seen Marcus making his way to your room."
"Good Lord! Is nothing sacred?"
"No," she said, then picked up the bouquet that lay on the bed.
Elise looked again at the clock, then back at Sophie. "I still have twenty-five minutes. Sophie," she began, but Sophie cut her off.
"I will await you in the drawing room."
Elise smiled her thanks. As Sophie closed the door behind her, Elise seated herself on the couch. Twenty-five minutes from now, the key that bound her soul to Amelia and Steven would lay at the bottom of the sea with them. She had considered using her position once she married to quietly bring about Price's fall, but had recalled Marcus's words "The thirst for revenge will eat a man alive." The same was true of a woman.
She was trading Steven and Amelia's rest for Marcus's safety. May they forgive her.
Chapter Sixteen
At sight of Marcus dressed in a new kilt, a crisp, white lawn shirt meticulously tucked into his waistband and buttoned to the neck, and a bonnet cocked to one side, Elise faltered the last few steps from where he stood at the altar. In minutes, this man would be her husband. Her gaze met his and she saw there an intensity that demanded she leap into his arms from across the final precipice that separated them. Her knees weakened. Marcus held out his hand. She flushed and dropped her gaze.
He grasped her hand in a firm grip, turning with her to face Father Whyte. The priest spoke the Latin vows slowly, then patiently waited until she repeated them as he had coached. Marcus repeated his vows and, before Elise realized it, he slipped a large emerald onto her finger. The ring was a size too large, but her heart skipped a beat at the weight of the jewel and the cool of the metal encircling her finger. Father Whyte gave the final blessing and a shout went up when Marcus took her in his arms. Her attention jerked from the emerald to him as he finalized the ritual with their first kiss as husband and wife.