by Pam Binder
He wasn’t having second thoughts about bringing his parents here for Christmas. His mother was in the mid-stages of Alzheimer’s, and there had been signs that things were about to change for the worse. So when, out of the blue, she’d suggested this trip and particularly this tour, he and his dad had booked train tickets that same afternoon.
Now, with each hour that passed, his mother seemed to improve, which had him tipped upside down. There were moments of clarity, like when she had told him Irene’s name, or argued that she wanted to help Julia, or just a few minutes ago discussed the meal she’d had on the train to Stirling. He shook his head in frustration. He couldn’t remember what he’d eaten. How had she?
“May I join you?”
Logan would have recognized that voice anywhere. He knew he was grinning like a kid at a comic book convention, but he couldn’t help it. Irene had that effect on him. He nodded and made room for her by the window. “How is Julia?”
“Actually, I think she’s going to be fine. Grant is with her. Did you know they are friends?”
“Makes sense. Julia was all he talked about when we were getting ready. I thought he’d trip over his tongue when he first saw her in that red dress.”
Irene smiled. “Well, I think Julia is starting to realize she likes him, as well. How’s your mother?”
He liked that Irene had asked. Most women had other topics on their agenda, like which car they wanted him to pick them up in, or what he was giving them for their birthday.
Thinking about where his mother was right now broadened his smile. “Lady Roselyn said that with Caitlin thinking of ways to turn her ex-fiancé into a live pincushion, it would be a good time for a break. She gave everyone assignments. My father is helping out in the kitchens. He’s the chef in the family and jumped at the chance. Caitlin was too much of a mess to do anything, so Bridget took her under her wing. Lady Roselyn said she had the perfect distraction for my mother. Something about tapestries, needlepoint, and looms. My attention wandered when she started discussing how the colors in the yarn were made and how many types of stitches there were. Thankfully she gave me guard duty, but it’s so quiet all I hear are crickets.”
Irene leaned against the stone windowsill. The breeze coming through the open window caressed her hair, easing it away from her face. “I ran into Lady Roselyn for a few minutes when I was leaving Julia, and she asked me if I wanted to join them. Learning how to make tapestries is one of those things that sounds cool, like knitting sweaters or weaving a blanket, but my sewing skills are abysmal. When I lose a button on a blouse, if I can’t keep it closed with a safety pin or duct tape, I buy a new one. Very sad.”
He smiled at her joke. He couldn’t stop staring. Her profile was outlined in torchlight. He’d never seen anyone more lovely. She was all soft and pastel around the edges, with a strong inner core. He’d noticed that confidence at the café. If he hadn’t stepped in to confront the trio of idiots harassing Bridget, he knew Irene had been poised to intervene. That was when he first really noticed her. She hadn’t cared that she would have been outnumbered. All that mattered was that someone needed help.
“I’m glad you didn’t go with them.” His words hung in the air briefly before being swept away by the breeze. “Are you cold?” he said.
She shook her head and studied her hands as they rested on the ledge. “I’m glad I’m here with you. And I’m having fun on the tour. That’s unexpected.”
“I’m as surprised as you. Shocked, in fact. My mother always wanted to go to Scotland, and when her doctors told us that…” He paused for a deep breath before he continued. “Well, this seemed like the perfect time. If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here on Christmas Eve?”
“You mean alone, without a family?” She seemed to be wrestling with a decision. When her expression lightened, he sensed she was beginning to trust him. “My mother died on Christmas Eve, and I’m trying to find out why this castle was so important to her.”
Chapter Sixteen
Logan had slipped his hand in hers. It enveloped her with warmth. For all his strength, he didn’t seem threatening. She wondered if anyone had ever given him the name Gentle Giant.
She was no petite, delicate flower herself. She’d played volleyball in high school and college and had continued on a recreation team for the law firm. Most men were intimidated by her height, which her mother had always believed was a good thing. Her mother also preached that insecure men were high maintenance and should be avoided at all cost. Irene should have taken her advice.
“I should probably check on my mother,” Logan said.
She liked that he cared enough to want to look after Ann. Irene leaned a little closer to him as they moved down a corridor.
“You no doubt guessed,” he continued, “my mother has Alzheimer’s.” He winced. “I wish you could have known her before she became ill.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Where to begin? She was a history teacher. I think that’s the reason she wanted to come here. She loves everything medieval.”
Irene thought about sharing that her mother and his had a lot in common, but paused when she noticed Logan’s mother in a well-lit room. He’d noticed her, as well, and stood beside the doorway.
Candlelight illuminated every corner of the room. A fireplace added more light as well as warmth. In the center of the room, Logan’s mother was operating a loom under Lady Roselyn’s watchful care. Yarn flew under Ann’s skillful hands, and the patterns and colors created were stunning. But it wasn’t the skill that took Irene by surprise: it was the expression on Ann’s face.
She was laughing and chatting with Lady Roselyn as though they were old friends, and she looked a good ten to fifteen years younger. There was a glow about her that was hard to miss.
“Mother?” Logan said, entering the room as though he were walking on eggshells.
Ann’s smile grew even more radiant as she turned toward him. “Son, you’ve grown so tall.”
“Ann looks amazing,” Irene said to Lady Roselyn.
Lady Roselyn’s smile was unguarded and lit up her expression. Still smiling, she turned toward Irene. “Stirling Castle can have that effect on our guests. We’ll leave mother and son alone while they catch up. Come. We’re expected in the Great Hall.”
Chapter Seventeen
Candles and firelight transformed the Great Hall into a scene out of a fairyland. Irene had never seen so much mistletoe in one place before. It hung from the ceiling and was draped like garlands over the high-backed chairs and windowsills. A carved Yule log candle held a place of honor in the center of a long trestle table. Logan had stayed behind to be with his mother, but everyone else had taken the assigned seats again.
“Let the games begin,” Lady Roselyn announced. “My sisters and I have chosen our first participant at random. Bridget, our official entertainment coordinator, and Fiona, who is our romance specialist, have developed a new spin on a popular old game, Blind Man’s Bluff. Since Fiona is busy with the wedding preparations, Bridget will explain the new rules.”
Bridget stood and surveyed the crowd as though gauging how they might react. “In the original version of Blind Man’s Bluff, a person is blindfolded and surrounded by other participants. He or she must then capture another player and correctly identify them. Because we are matchmakers, we have created our own version. The game starts out the same, but instead of trying to capture the others, the blindfolded person will kiss them. And here is the twist. When the kiss ignites a spark and is returned, the game ends.” She winked. “Or, as we like to believe, the real story begins. The heart finds its true love when least expected. Shall we start?”
“Who is the lucky person?” Sam asked.
Lady Roselyn picked up a long, narrow silk cloth. “Irene, of course.”
The banquet table was quickly cleared and moved against the wall to make room for the sisters’ game. Everyone seemed to think Bridget’s version sounded like a great idea. Everyone, that
is, except Irene.
“They can’t be serious,” Irene said under her breath to Julia.
Julia stood beside her, a wide grin on her face. “They are very serious. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to, but it’s fun. I promise.”
“Kissing strangers?” Irene shuddered. “Isn’t that a little, oh, I don’t know…weird?”
Julia lifted her shoulders and grinned. “I think it could be exciting. Besides, the sisters try not to allow any creeps on the tour. You saw what happened with the three Neanderthals in the café earlier. I heard that after Logan confronted them in the café, the sisters sent them away. Lady Roselyn also noticed your reaction to Sam, so that’s the reason he won’t be participating in the game. So I don’t understand your concern.”
“Still, kissing a stranger… Is this how you and Angus met?”
“I wish. Unfortunately, no. Maybe if we had I wouldn’t have made such a big mistake. I think I was in love with the idea of what Angus represented. Macho, drop-dead yummy-looking. But when we kissed there wasn’t a spark. I thought that was because there was something wrong with me, and that sparks would develop over time. Boy, was I wrong. All that developed over time was that I blew what I thought we had out of proportion.”
“What about Grant? Any sparks?”
Julia blushed a lovely shade of rosy-pink. “Fireworks on steroids. I think that’s the real reason the matchmaker sisters allowed me on this tour. They knew there was someone for me, but it just wasn’t Angus.” Julia pulled Irene to her feet. “Now, stop stalling. You don’t have to have any big lip-locks, and you get to determine how long you kiss. A peck on the lips, at most, and you can be on to the next person. You can also stop at any time. Think of it this way: They always say you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.”
Chapter Eighteen
Irene really wished Julia would have used another comparison rather than frogs. Irene couldn’t get the image of the cold, disgusting, slimy creatures out of her mind. Yes, she’d definitely kissed her share. She shuddered, as the blindfold was tied in place, and tried to stay calm as she was turned around and around in the center of the Great Hall. The first few turns, she kept count. After that, she gave over to the experience. When she was brought to a stop, she felt disoriented, which of course was the point, but her sense of hearing and smell were still fully functional.
The Great Hall was cloaked in silence. There were faint sounds of people padding past her, getting into position, and whispering for complete quiet. Irene blocked out those sounds, concentrating on getting her bearings.
The fragrant odor of burning wood in the stone fireplace came from directly behind her. Aromas of cloves and cinnamon drifted toward her from the dessert table on her right. Just orienting herself calmed her a little.
She wondered if Logan was present, then shook the notion from her thoughts. He wasn’t here. He wouldn’t play such a silly game. He had more important things on his mind. He was making sure his mother was okay.
Someone guided her away from the fireplace. She knew it was Bridget because of the gentle scent of gardenias. “Are you ready to meet the first contestant?” Bridget said. When Irene nodded, Bridget placed Irene’s hand on a man’s shoulder. He was about Irene’s height. She felt him lean forward and kiss her.
The sensation of his lips on hers was quick and abrupt. Like it might feel if she had kissed the back of her own hand. Irene shook her head, and pressed her lips together. Bridget guided her to the next guy. The second man seemed more formal. He gave her a peck on each check.
The next few men were a blur. One went in for a second kiss, but that was against the rules, and Bridget ordered him to leave and whisked Irene to the next man. The faint smells of spices filled the air as each kiss brought her closer to the dessert table. She knew the procedure now. Hand on the man’s shoulder, lean in, touch lips, wait for a reaction, and then move on to the next candidate.
The whole experience gave her time to analyze her own dating merry-go-round ride. Of course, physical attraction was part of the equation, but did she rely on it too much?
She realized she’d ignored some of the early warning signs with her ex-fiancé. She’d believed his excuses for the unexpected trips and the late nights at the office because, if she was being honest, her ex was movie-star gorgeous and successful. Even the shock of finding him with another woman hadn’t woken her the first time she’d caught him. After all, he’d vowed to change.
Their relationship had been such a sad cliché.
Her sister had finally penetrated the denial-fog she had been in with the simple question: “What would Mother say?”
As Bridget guided Irene’s hand onto the next candidate’s shoulder, she sensed that she was back to where she’d started. The man was taller than the others, his muscles more defined. She rose on tiptoes and tilted her head back, knowing he’d have to bend down to reach her. She didn’t have a strong enough hold on his shoulder and started to fall.
The man placed his hand on the small of her back to steady her. The protective gesture caught her off guard. She was the one who watched out for her co-workers and friends. Not the other way around.
He pressed his lips against hers, igniting a spark that took her by surprise.
The spark ignited into flame. She leaned in and deepened the kiss as his arms pulled her closer. Heat spiraled around her in ever-increasing speed. Enveloped in his embrace, she sensed the world dropping away. The only sound was her beating heart. An image of Logan flickered through her thoughts. But what if it wasn’t him?
A roar of laughter, mixed with a round of clapping and cheers, penetrated the haze as Bridget pulled Irene gently from her mystery man.
Irene knew the chill of loss. She hugged her arms around her waist and waited to find out his identity.
“The heart knows,” Bridget said as she untied Irene’s blindfold.
Irene kept her eyes shut as she clung to the fantasy. She wanted the man to be Logan. There didn’t seem to be any drama around him. The expression “What you see is what you get” came to mind. Was that real? Or part of the fantasy?
Bridget nudged her on the shoulder. “He’s waiting.”
Irene opened her eyes, rubbing them, more to delay the moment than any real need to focus. She wanted to see clearly. Doubts rushed in. Was that even possible when it came to the emotions of the heart?
She looked at the tips of her shoes first and then saw his leather boots.
Nondescript and like every other pair of boots she’d seen at this thirteenth century reenactment festival.
He wore a green tunic, which narrowed the field a bit. Her heart picked up speed.
Broad shoulders.
She felt out of breath, as though she were running through a snowstorm in a gale-force wind. Slow down, she cautioned.
Square jaw. Lips that curved in a familiar smile that shone in his eyes.
Her first reaction was excitement; the second was paralyzing terror.
“Logan.” His name rushed out as the doubts swept over her again. How was it possible to feel so much for someone so soon?
Chapter Nineteen
Irene twisted away from Logan and fled from the Great Hall, racing up the stairs to the balcony. It was a setup. Logan was someone the matchmakers must have planned for her all along. But how could they know there’d be an attraction? Were the sisters that good? More importantly, why was she so resistant? And why had she run away?
After all, the fantasy would be over in the morning, and things would be back to normal. Pretense. Fantasy. Make believe. Wasn’t that what life was about anyway? If you knew that the person you loved had flaws, you ignored them. If your friends or family brought those flaws to your attention, you either said the guy you were dating had changed or he was working on his issues—or you got new friends.
The illusion of perfection. That had been the way she’d dealt with her relationship with Chad.
Almost from the beginning she’d
realized they hadn’t been right for each other. And the more her friends and family highlighted his flaws, the more she dug in and defended him. She developed the philosophy that the best way to sustain a relationship was never to look too closely at the person you were with.
And then there was Logan. There had to be something wrong with him. No one was perfect.
When she reached the balcony, she peered over the waist-high ledge and removed her headdress and hair clips, leaving only a ribbon to control her long hair. From her vantage point, she could see that the celebrations in the Great Hall were continuing in full swing. Caitlin had volunteered to participate in the kissing game, while Angus stood on the sidelines, arms folded across his chest, and frowned in disapproval. A twelve-foot fir tree had been brought in, and although it would be centuries before ornaments and candles were added, its appearance added Christmas joy. A fiddler played a lively tune, which had led to impromptu dancing. Grant had coaxed Julia into a circle of dancers.
Sean and Ann stood hand in hand, shoulders touching, as they swayed in time to the music. Even if you didn’t know them, you could tell they cared deeply for each other. What would it be like to share that type of for-ever-after kind of love with another person?
Arms resting on the ledge, Irene’s thoughts drifted with the laughter. She knew her mother had cared for her stepfather. They were comfortable with each other, her mother had once said. Was that enough? Was that what she should be looking for in a man? Maybe forego all the thrill and excitement of love and settle for comfortable? Mother, what secrets are you hiding?
“I was looking for you.”
Startled, Irene let her veil slip from her grasp as she turned toward him. “Logan.”
His gaze followed the path of her headdress as it floated down into the Great Hall. “I could get it for you.”
Her lips still felt warm from the kiss they’d shared. What must he think of her running away? Feeling self-conscious, she laughed nervously. “I can retrieve it later.”
