A back room with no windows provided some privacy. With great care, Marly lifted the creamy lace wedding gown over her head. The neckline dipped enough to hint at a modest cleavage, and the waist relied on cut and style to shape a lady’s figure, not underwear of torture like a corset.
However, the seemingly endless line of tiny buttons at the back provided a challenge. Unless she became a contortionist, Marly would never be able to fasten them by herself.
Carefully holding the bodice of the dress, Marly peeked out of the small room. The others were engaged in digging through the contents of the trunks. Except Dawson, who looked up as soon as her head appeared.
He strode toward her, his gaze sweeping from the slightly puffed sleeves of the gown to the lace edging the hem.
“I can’t get the buttons done up,” Marly whispered. “Will you ask Beth or Audrey–”
“I can do it.” Dawson stepped behind Marly. As soon as his fingers touched her back, she froze. Shivers of awareness danced along her spine, rendering her unable to protest.
The conversations of others in the room muted into the background. The modern lamps in the old building blurred and softened as Dawson’s fingers feathered up her back, inch by tortuous inch.
“Hold your hair up for me.” Dawson’s low command tingled the delicate flesh under her ear, but she managed to tuck a hand under her hair and sweep it off her neck with a minimum of trembling.
His fingers hovered at the nape of her neck after fastening the last button. “Beautiful.”
Had she heard him correctly? Was the man who had earlier baited her with caustic comments actually said she was beautiful?
“Omigod, don’t move!” Audrey’s exclamation startled both Dawson and Marly into compliance.
“What’s wrong?” Dawson demanded.
“That’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
© Picture Perfect Legacy by Genie Gabriel
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