His Lass Wears Tartan (7 page)

“Goodness, what is up with you two?” Baillie put her hands to her hips, a wide smile across her face.

Staring at Putney, rubbing away tears with a corner of her apron, Rogue, too, continued laughing. “I donna know what to tell ya, Auntie. Spring is in the air, ya might say.”

“Aye, spring. Seems our young one here has the beginnings of two suitors in our midst.” Putney winked at Rogue.

Baillie’s mouth dropped open. “Two?”

“Auntie, your face has the looks of biting into a lemon. Is it that painful for ya to be thinking of two men liking me at one time?”

“Well, no, but ...” She let go a sigh. “I guess I don’t really know much of either of them if we’re discussing Mr. Olson and Mr. MacKenzie.”

Rogue stared into the center of the kitchen before noting, “Men are strange creatures, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are. Men’s faults and foibles have been discussed by women since the beginning of time, child. Put any two women in a room together, and odds are, the conversation will slip around to the wiles and confusion of men.”

“Aye, that’s for bloody sure.” Putney grabbed a teakettle and filled it with water.

“Foibles? What an odd word, Auntie.”

Chuckling, Baillie smiled at her. “But such a grand word when talking about men. It means a minor weakness or eccentricity in someone’s character. And believe me, you’ll find in life all mere males have foibles of one kind or another.”

“Come to the table. We have a bit more time before dinner service is needed.” Putney handed a tray of cups and saucers to Rogue. “I can tell you a fault or two about my wee Robbie.”

Rogue slid onto the kitchen chair, tucking her foot under her. It seemed ages since the three of them had sat around the table with stories and gossip. Her heart squeezed at the empty chairs around them. Now would be the time for Gillian and the girls to chime in, Rafael on one side of her and T-Cup giggling on the other. One of their favorite subjects was men. The noise level always amped two or three notches with their squeals and squabbles.

Not betraying a change in feeling between her aunt and Putney, but they both suddenly seemed much older as the two of them spouted off different quirks about their men. Sipping the fragrant tea in front of her, she marveled at the animation in their faces. Content and happy, the two looked like a pair of worn, sweet bookends.
Someday, I could be sitting here touting stories about a husband.
She burst into laughter, bringing the conversation to a complete halt. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

“You weren’t listening to a word we said, were you?” Baillie squinted her eyes at her. “Too busy discussing hormonal boyfriend events with Gillian or T-Cup in your own little world instead?”

“Uh, guilty?”

The laughter echoed in sweet waves around the room.

• • •

The sunshine felt deliciously warm outside the shop the next morning as Bruce whistled getting his deliveries ready for the day. The list of addresses took him from one end of town to another before he could wind his way up to the castle. He’d make short work of it then.

He parked in his usual spot just below the wooden bridge to the kitchen entrance. Bruce took a deep breath and yanked open the outside door, balancing the box of food on his shoulder. He paused at seeing Rogue standing at the sink. The door closed against him, shoving him into the kitchen, the jolt almost knocking the box from his grip.

Rogue’s face broke into a weak smile, and a slight flush painted her cheeks a deep crimson as she turned her back, wiping her damp hands on a towel. She seemed more beautiful today; the layers of a soft blue dress showed off her tiny waist and slender hips. Tendrils of curls bordering the creamy white skin of her exposed neck caught his attention. Visions of standing close, kissing her neck, clouded his mind as he imagined how perfect she’d feel in his arms.

He set the box on the counter behind her while the constant movement of her hands piqued his interest. How long did it take a woman to dry her hands? He stepped closer, breathing in her sweet smell. Pulling the clipboard from the box, he stuttered, “Hey, long time no see, Rogue.”

“Bruce, my boy,” Putney’s voice boomed. “Always on time.”

Rogue excused herself in a breathy tone. Both Bruce and Putney watched her dash from the kitchen before their eyes met.

“There’s one edgy wee bunny.” Putney moved to the counter pawing through the supplies. “You havena hurt the young lass’s feelings with your chivalry since last evening, have ya?” She laughed at herself.

He felt his face grow hot. Putney’s digs to his heart were becoming personal. “All I said this morning was ‘hey.’ I havena been near the castle since last night. I thought she’d be happy to see me, but she ran off like I had horns sprouting out of my head.”

“Did you no think of saying a wee bit of how nice she looked for our guests?” She signed the papers and gave him back the clipboard.

“I dinna have time to notice much, let alone get anything said before she bolted.” He ducked his head.

“Ya lie no better than your da used to. Ya noticed the girl.” Putney slapped her hands against her aproned thigh. “MacKenzie had quite a way with the ladies over the years. I canna tell you the gossip of his good looks among the working women folk.” She pulled a bag of onions from the box.

“My da, you say?” Bruce unpacked the rest of the supplies on the counter, curious about the man he missed most in life. “You’re mad. My da loved me mam more than life itself.”

“Aye, he did, lad. But your sweet mam has been gone since you were in short pants. Your da was a sight of glory among me friends. They’d get so impatient for his deliveries and to enjoy a smile from the man. Nothing more, mind ya, just a wee bit of flirting causing no harm. Ya have his good looks.” She tilted her head to the side. “Ya fancy our wee Rogue, do ya?”

Frozen, he wished he could sink through the floor. The muscles in his biceps twitched in nervousness. “I willna say no to your direct question and be called a liar.”

“Hmm.” Putney snorted with a cheeky grin. “As I suspected. Took ya long enough to come around.”

Scuffing his feet, Bruce pushed away from the counter’s edge and picked up the empty crate. “Took months, I’ll remind ya, to get her to even look at me. Mind ya not go telling tales, now.”

Putney chuckled. “I’ll no spread tales of your heart, if you man up and tell her something of your own. Anything will do, aye?”

Squaring his shoulders, Bruce let himself out. Biddy old woman putting foolish ideas in his head that Rogue would ever give him a serious glance, with the castle’s fancy parties and weddings bringing celebrities and millionaires in her face. She did look a bit weary today, flushed. And so much more beautiful with the blush of a rose on her cheeks and her lips holding a wee bit of luscious shine. He wished he had said something about how wonderful she looked instead of just “hey.”

Bruce walked right into the back fender of his van. The spear of pain in his knee knocked the visions of Rogue from his mind. Searching the area to see if anyone noticed, he tossed the crate on the stack of empties in the back and yanked on the waist of his jeans before slamming the doors. Climbing into the driver’s seat, a vision of his dad smiling and laughing in Putney’s kitchen popped up.

“Dinna tell me ya flirted with the cooks, old man.” He smacked his hand against his forehead. “Now ya be talking to yerself, lad.”

Women.

• • •

Frustrated, Rogue stomped her foot, furious with herself for running out of the kitchen like that and ruining a chance to talk to Bruce. After his smile last night and his sweetness with Diva, she’d barely slept a wink. It took forever this morning, sorting through the rack of costumes Baillie had designed for her, to decide what to wear. Suddenly the pain and bother of dresses took on a whole other meaning when she remembered the twinkle in Bruce’s eyes last night, complimenting her for her ladylike attire.

She’d kept one eye on the alarm clock in her room as she dashed through the multiple petticoats. Giving herself another chance at applying makeup, she hoped she hadn’t overdone anything for a more daytime look. Too much blush? Too heavy on the eye shadow? Where were Rafael and T-Cup when she needed her diva queens most? The various paints and potions the girls kept sending her were a mystery.

Satisfied with her reflection in the dresser mirror, Rogue left her room and walked down the long staircase. Lifting the front of her skirt to keep from tripping, she didn’t notice Jonathan standing at the bottom staring at her.

“Ah, what a pleasure to gaze upon your beauty first thing this morning. Had I known such a vision awaited me, I would have ordered a dozen red roses to greet you with.”

He pulled at the cuffs of his jacket, again a dashing look of old-style charm, his face locked in a genuine smile with a gaze practically boring through her with its intensity. Her heart skipped in time with each step. Visions of colorful Disney animated movies with Prince Charming waiting for the beautiful princess flashed through her mind. She felt like Cinderella in her azure gown.

As she neared the last step, Jonathan stretched his hand out to help her down and tucked her arm inside his own. The heat from his body touched her like a fiery blast through her system, causing a flush of perspiration. She glanced up at Jonathan’s face, his blue eyes demanding attention. How wide his pupils seemed, pools of black darkness drawing her in. She sensed the man could see right through her clothing, admiring her body.

“How I wish we could share the sparkle and enchantment of Paris together. With you on my arm, I would be the envy of every male we passed. Such grace and beauty needs to be shared with the outside world, no?”

Rogue gave him a blank stare. “Paris?”

“
Oui, ma chérie
, I would love to take you to the most exquisite places where your beauty will outshine the constellations. We could dance in Rio de Janeiro, ski in the Swiss Alps. With you by my side, we’d take Manhattan by storm then fly out to Los Angeles for premieres and red carpets. You capture my breath, and all I want to do is share the vision of you with the world.

“Alas, reality rears its ugly head instead.” He stopped at the hallway, half turning so he stood close in front of her. “I’m afraid I must leave you for now.”

He brought her hand up to his lips and lingered over his kiss. Rogue swept her eyes from his moist lips to his steady gaze. Her hand tingled from his soft lips caressing the skin. Her heart pounded during the timeless seconds before he lifted his head. More time passed before he let go of her hand.

“I have much to take care of before class starts, indeed. Mr. Leatherton will be expecting me, though I wish I had the day to linger in your company. I would invite you to take an intimate turn with me on the moors or around the castle. We could plan our escape for Rio.” A sly grin pulled at his lips.

Clutching her hands together, Rogue made a short curtsy. “I, too, have a list of work to do today. But thank you for, uh, suggesting such. I’ve never thought of traveling so far away, let alone the world.” Her voice dropped as she turned and headed for the kitchen, rubbing the spot of Jonathan’s kiss.

How could she spend the night thinking about Bruce, and one touch of Jonathan’s hand paired with ridiculous flattery easily erased everything? Water—she needed to wash her hands in the sink before Bruce arrived.

Yet, when he came through the door, her nerves exploded in chaotic emotions and she couldn’t stop drying her hands, with images of the Eiffel Tower at night, all lit up, flashing through her mind. What must he think of her? With a quick turn now, she dashed back to the kitchen, but it was too late. Bruce had gone, and Putney had finished putting away the last of the food.

A tear welled up in her eyes as she stared at the empty spot. She roughly brushed it away. What female foolishness. She’d never thought of herself as weak, more the opposite. She’d taken care of herself as an orphan and beyond. These men had mashed her mind and body into a bowl of gruel.

Putney poured herself a cup of tea and slowly stirred a lump of sugar, the spoon clinking against the china. Rogue closed her eyes; surely, she was about to get a lengthy lecture from the cook. With a sigh, she crossed the kitchen and leaned on the counter next to her.

“Not what I expected to see after watching the two of you last night in my kitchen. And our conversation with your aunt led me to believe Bruce was the better of the two in your heart.” Putney took a long sip.

Rogue opened her mouth and then closed it again. Confusion and emotions played tag through her mind. Finally, she said, “I do like him, ya ken.”

“That’s a start.” Putney wiped the outside edge of her teacup with a corner of her apron.

“So does Miss Diva, and she’s quite picky where men are concerned. That in itself is an incredible recommendation of Bruce’s character, aye?”

“That is true.”

The silence lengthened between them. “I had every intention of readying myself to see him this morn.” Rogue looked down at her dress and swallowed hard. “But I ran into Jonathan heading toward the learning room and ... and I don’t know what came over me. He wraps me tight in his attention until I canna breathe. He said he wanted to take me to Paris and Rio de Janeiro, with adventures in New York and Hollywood. Isn’t that crazy? Then he bowed and kissed my hand for ages before excusing himself away.”

Putney set the cup down hard on the counter, surprising them both. They locked their gazes together and both burst out laughing, breaking the tension. Putney pulled her into a warm hug.

“Now look at my wee lassie, being courted by two smartly grown men. Though thoughts of international travels have a glamourous and exciting zeal, ya ken where my heart lies.”

Rogue kissed her on the cheek. “Between this duo, I do indeed.” Pulling open the wooden door, she headed for the outdoors to check on her horse, Dougal. This was one male she could rely on not to confuse her emotions. Why couldn’t men be as staunch and unwavering as a horse?

• • •

At lunchtime, Rogue watched as the class of writers cleared the room, wandering off with sluggish steps and glazed eyes, their latest assignments in hand. Not a word broke between any of them. How could they be enjoying themselves when they looked drained and weary? The concept of studying writing in a castle sounded magical, and Rogue hoped other best-selling authors might sign on for such experiences, yet the zombies leaving the room just now did not make for a public relations spot on the website.