She turned her gaze on him, and he had to wonder why he’d ever thought her eyes anything other than beautiful. Her gaze seemed to reach down inside him and tug at his heart.
“What of your family? Do you have any that will come to live with you at the castle?”
“My father died in battle, and my mother died a few years ago. A few scattered family members are all I have left.”
“I am sorry.”
“Dinnae be. I am well-used to being alone.”
“You mentioned you were a soldier.”
“Aye.” He plucked a leaf from a nearby tree and began to pick it apart. “Had I not inherited the lairdship, I would have continued fighting.”
“Do you miss the fighting?”
“In a way.” He gave her a tilted smile and flung the leaf away. “Does that seem strange to ye?”
“Not at all. If it is all you have known for some time, it can be hard to have your life change so quickly.”
He peered at her. “Yer a canny lass.”
Rose laughed. “I am not so sure about that.”
They stopped at the edge of the forest. Whether she was as aware they were about to step onto his land as he, he didn’t know, but it felt like an immense weight crushing down upon him. Yet it was not wholly unpleasant. It made his heart quicken and his breath fast.
“I should probably return before my aunt misses me.”
He looked toward the sloping roof of the castle, just visible over the brow of the hill. “Aye. Are ye sure I cannae walk ye home?”
“No, but thank you.”
She looked up at him, some question in her eye. What next, perhaps. Or when will I see you again? Those were the questions rolling around in his mind.
“I shall call on ye again soon. I must begin to organize the work at the castle but I shall come by, I swear.”
Her smile expanded. His heart stretched. This woman could never lie or hide her feelings. They were written far too clearly on her face. She wanted him to come and visit again.
“I—my aunt and I will look forward to it. Hopefully the smoke will have dispersed by then.”
“I hope so.” He dipped his head. “Good day, Miss Merriweather.”
“Good day, my laird.” She dipped and turned away. He would watch her until she vanished into the woods, greedy to see her for as long as he could.
Her foot caught on a branch as she turned, and he grabbed her arm to steady her. She let loose a startled sound and before he had quite understood what he had done, he had her in his arms.
“Rose,” he murmured, looking down into those eyes that held him spellbound.
Her lips were parted, her gaze searching his. He was powerless to do anything other than drop his head and brush his lips gently over hers. His heart thrashed so wildly in his chest, he feared it might burst. She gave the tiniest sigh and when he drew back, her eyes were still closed.
He held her until she opened her eyes and her soft gaze was enough to have him grinning foolishly at her.
“I had better return.”
He nodded and released her. “I shall see you soon.”
Her answering grin before she vanished into the woods was enough for him. He knew well enough that she too would be thinking of that kiss every day until they met again.
Chapter Seven
“Are you humming again?” Mrs. Shaw asked as she pummeled the dough into submission.
Rose glanced up from glazing the pastries. “I did not think so.”
“You were. I never took you for a hummer.”
She had never been, not until recently. Not until after that kiss. Three days had passed and there had not been a single morning when she hadn’t woken up and recalled it. It had been the briefest brush of his lips against hers and it had been…well, perfect.
Underneath that steely highland exterior was a caring man, she was sure of it. Not that she minded the exterior. He was utterly unlike every gentleman she had ever read about or briefly met. There was no pretense. Hamish McTavish was a rough, tough soldier with a good, solid heart. She suspected he would do very well as a laird, particularly if the gardener’s praise of him was correct. Apparently many of the tenant farmers were quite pleased to have a man who was willing to listen to them and break bread with them in charge.
Not to mention his heroic act of going into the house to rescue Mrs. Shaw.
The cook still would not talk about that day. Rose supposed she was embarrassed about burning the bread, but surely she had to admire the way Hamish ran into the building to find her.
Miss Taylor’s footsteps echoed on the servant’s staircase, and she entered the kitchen and paused. “She’s humming again.”
“I just told her as much,” the cook replied.
Rose hoped she wasn’t blushing. When she glanced at the housekeeper, she noted her knowing smile. Miss Taylor would likely approve of a budding romance between her and Hamish. She had asked her if she had managed to catch up with him and had nodded approvingly when Rose had told her Hamish would call on them and ask them to dinner.
But would Aunt May agree? If Rose even mentioned the laird, her aunt changed the subject. Was it simply his rough exterior that was the problem or something else? Did she really not trust her niece to make the right decision regarding him?
Not that Rose was sure of the right decision, but all she knew was that she had to see him again.
“Miss Rose…” Mrs. Shaw started, drawing her attention to the pastry in front of her.
“Oh.” Rose had been brushing on the yolks so absently that she had soaked the dough and it had lost its shape. “Oh dear. Sorry, Mrs. Shaw.”
“You are terribly absentminded, Miss Rose. Is there something worrying you?”
“Not at all. I promise.”
Miss Taylor bustled past them. “Our Miss Rose is right as rain, are you not?”
“Of course I am.”
There was clatter from upstairs. “Sounds like your aunt has returned.”
“I will be but a moment. I hope she has the book I requested.”
“More Highland history?” Miss Taylor asked, her voice utterly devoid of anything mischievous but her eyes glinted. Surely Rose was blushing by now?
Removing her apron, she washed her hands and followed the housekeeper upstairs. When they entered the entrance hall, Rose came to a standstill. The breath vanished from her, along with perhaps a lot of her blood, which dropped down to her toes. She felt a little faint.
Her aunt beamed up at Hamish, who had her arm tucked through his.
“Mrs. Merriweather?” the housekeeper said.
“Will you put some tea on Miss Taylor? Hamish shall be staying for some, will you not?”
He smiled, turning his gaze onto Rose. “Of course. I would not think of leaving you at such a time.”
“Such a time?” Rose asked, finally finding her feet and stepping forward. His gaze lingered on her and dropped to her lips. Goodness, her stays were tight. He had to be remembering, surely? It was as though unspoken words whooshed through the air between them.
I remember.
So do I.
I want to kiss you again.
I want you to kiss me again.
“Hamish was quite the hero,” her aunt gushed, leading him through to the drawing room.
Rose followed them and perched herself on the sofa next to her aunt. Once more Hamish’s frame filled the small chair and, she was sure, threatened to snap the delicate thing in half. He would require very sturdy furniture at Baleith Castle.
“Hero?” Rose repeated.
From the way her aunt smiled at him, she had to wonder if she had not awoken in a dream. What had happened to the cool woman who had practically thrown the man out?
“I was coming out of the chandlery,” Aunt May explained, “and I had my basket full of candles. Before I knew it, some young urchin shot by and pulled the basket clean from my arm.”
“Goodness, were you hurt?”
“Only mildly.” Sh
e motioned to Hamish who did his best to look bashful, bringing a smile to Rose’s face because bashfulness really did not suit a man of his stature. “Hamish here saw what had happened, leapt on his horse, and dashed after the boy.” Her aunt drew a breath. “Goodness, I feel all lightheaded when I think about it.”
Rose patted her aunt’s hand. “What happened to the boy?”
“I had a stern word,” Hamish said. “He’ll be doing a little work for me, as I dinnae think he’s a bad lad. Just desperate.”
“That was kind of you, my laird.”
“Needless to say, he got quite the clip around the ear and a good telling off. I dinnae think he will be causing trouble again, not if I can keep watch over him.”
“It seems you did my aunt quite the favor.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Not at all. I did what any man would.”
Aunt May shook her head. “And yet no one else did. You leapt into action without a moment’s thought.”
“Ye forget I trained as a soldier, Mrs. Merriweather.”
“Nonsense. Your actions were a mark of your character.”
Surreptitiously, Rose gave herself a tiny pinch. She bit back a yelp. Yes, she was certainly awake and Aunt May was certainly mooning over a highlander.
“I am only glad to be of service.”
Miss Taylor entered the room with tea and biscuits. She placed them on the table to the side and retreated with a quick smile toward Rose. Miss Taylor was far too observant. Did she notice how Hamish kept looking at her? How she kept returning the look? Aunt May did not, thank goodness, though it certainly seemed as though she had changed her opinion of him. Maybe it would not be so hard to gain her aunt’s approval of a courtship after all.
That was if he wanted to court her.
Aunt May served the tea. Rose had to mask a giggle at the sight of the tiny china cup in Hamish’s large, capable hands. She took her own cup and squeaked when it nearly tipped upon her—entirely her own fault, of course, for not concentrating. She was far too clumsy sometimes.
“Did ye finish yer business in town, Mrs. Merriweather?”
“I did, thankfully. I was quite shaken after that incident so I am grateful you saw fit to escort me home.”
“I wouldnae have abandoned ye at such a time, and I’m glad I have the chance to take tea with ye.”
“And without any burnt bread this time,” Rose put in.
“Aye, no burnt bread.”
Her aunt fingered the empty cup in her hand. “Yes, that was…well, our cook is normally so careful. Let me assure you that will never happen again, Hamish.”
Hamish. Rose smiled to herself. One heroic moment and he was no longer my laird, said with an air of disdain. Now he was Hamish, said with warmth.
“I am grateful to see ye again, Mrs. Merriweather,” he continued. “I was hoping to invite ye and yer niece to dinner at Baleith Castle.”
“Oh.” Aunt May stared at her cup.
“There will only be a handful of guests, but I’m told it’s the done thing for the laird to host a dinner every summer.”
“Yes, Laird Malcolm did make it a tradition,” Rose said. Though they did not usually attend, in spite of being invited.
“I should very much like yer company.”
“Well, I…” Her aunt pressed her lips together. “Very well. It is only one dinner after all.”
Rose had to pin herself to the seat to prevent herself from leaping upwards. Inwardly, she grinned from ear to ear. Outwardly, she kept a polite smile on her face, catching Hamish’s eye every now and then. Aunt May dominated the conversation with talk of the conservation of the castle and the new fabric she had purchased today. Hamish was enthusiastic about the castle and did an admirable job of listening to her aunt’s plans for the fabric and her previous projects. Rose herself could hardly summon a word. In her mind, she was already at the castle, dressed in her finest gown, eating dinner next to Hamish, then perhaps dancing with him.
And another kiss. In her fantasy there was definitely another kiss.
“Well, I had better leave ye ladies for the day. I’ll send a formal invitation shortly.”
He rose and they followed suit.
“I must thank you again for your help,” Aunt May insisted.
“Yes,” Rose agreed. “Thank you so much for helping my aunt. It could have been a grave situation indeed without your assistance.”
“Not at all.” He smiled into her eyes, setting her aflutter. “Good day, ladies. I shall look forward to seeing you at my house next time we meet.”
Rose felt as though she must have been holding her breath until he’d left. Taking in a long breath of air, she tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Butterflies? No, make that jackrabbits. Bouncing around in excitement. She would actually get to go to a formal dinner at the castle…and she would get to see Hamish again.
“Thank you for accepting the invitation, Aunt May. I know you do not like dinner parties.”
Her aunt tilted her head and smiled. “I just pray I do not regret saying yes.”
“Why would you?”
“We are not one of them, Rose. You know that.”
“One of whom? I have never been given the chance to find out.”
“The people attending will be noble. Some titled. All with far more riches and graces than us. I hope you enjoy it, I really do, but…”
“You fear how people will treat me.”
“Of course. You are only young, Rose. You have never seen the cruelty of the world.”
Rose eyed her aunt, searching her grey eyes for answers. “And you have?”
“Too many times,” her aunt said mystically. Her slightly sad smile stretched. “I am sure you will have a pleasant time regardless. Hamish is not the sort of man to let his guests go neglected.”
“No, I am sure he is not, and he does not seem to have any false graces.”
“Indeed. In fact, he is quite the gentleman.”
“Aunt May, would I be correct in thinking that you like that man?”
Her aunt pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”
“And that you maybe thought him too rough before?”
“Something like that.” She tilted her head. “But even an old woman can be wrong once in a while, can she not?”
Rose laughed and embraced her. “Of course you can, Aunt May. Of course you can.”
Chapter Eight
Hamish rubbed a hand across his freshly shaven chin. He felt about as vulnerable as a newborn bairn without the stubble. He took a tour around the dining room and admired the fresh flowers and the elegant table settings. Who could believe that a year ago, when he was sleeping in a tent to the sound of cannon fire, that he would end up here, dining with the good folk of Baleith.
And Rose.
He smiled. Helping her aunt had been a stroke of luck. Not for Mrs. Merriweather perhaps but for himself. It had made it impossible for her to refuse his invitation, meaning he could have more time with Rose. If he could prove himself tonight, perhaps she would give him permission to court her.
That was his intention, to be certain. Rose was clever, sweet, and funny. He wanted—nay, needed—to get to know her better.
A few more kisses would not hurt either.
Not tonight, though. Tonight he was intent on proving he was far more than a highland barbarian. The other families could hang, he couldn’t care less what they thought of him, but he grudgingly admitted the show would not hurt his cause of settling into the area. He had discovered much of his cousin’s business dealings had been with local families of wealth, so he would have to continue to nurture those relationships as best as he could.
He glanced down at his formal attire. He would not be abandoning his kilt, however, regardless of how others saw him. There was only so much a highlander would do for approval.
“How do I look?”
He pivoted to see Marianne in the doorway. By some miracle, he’d avoided her the past few days, though there had been the recent
incident where she had conjured up some nightmare as an excuse to slip into his room in her nightgown. Needless to say, she had been swiftly escorted out.
In dark green silk and capped sleeves, she did look beautiful. However, her beauty could hardly mask the scheming glint in her eyes. He took a step forward, his jaw tight.
“Did I no’ say ye wouldnae be attending tonight?”
The pulse fluttered in her neck. “I dinnae recall.”
“How do ye think it would look for me to have ye attend?”
“Are ye ashamed of me?”
“Aye, ashamed my cousin ever took ye for a mistress.”
Eyes wide, she staggered back slightly as though about to fall into a faint. He ignored the movement. He had been patient for long enough. Now she intended to invade the dinner party that was to secure his chance with Rose and introduce him to the rest of the local families? He would not stand for it. As soon as he had made his intentions toward Rose clear, he would be marching down to Edinburgh and speaking with his lawyers. As much as he wanted to respect his cousin’s wishes—if he even had any toward Marianne—he could not abide her under his roof any longer.
“I have housed and fed ye for some time now, Marianne. It is past time for ye to leave.”
“But Malcolm—”
“Is dead. And he didnae make his wishes clear. I have offered ye a generous amount in my cousin’s name but still ye willnae leave.”
“Hamish, please…I could keep ye company. I could make ye happy.” She slunk forward, the silk gown swishing. “I made Malcolm happy. I know I can make ye happy too.” A sultry pout pursed her lips. “I am very experienced. I could pleasure ye for hours, Hamish. Hours and hours.”
She reached out to put a hand to his chest, and he grabbed her wrist. “I have no interest in ye, Marianne. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye shall stay out of sight tonight. Ye’ll have a week to leave and I shall ensure ye are paid, for Malcolm’s sake, but ye’ll get nothing more from me.”
Her bottom lip trembled. She eyed his hand curled around her wrist.
In a sudden, unexpected movement, she brought her other hand across his face. The sharp sting merely made his breaths hotter. He took her hand when she lifted it again.
Wake Me With a Kiss: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Regency Fairy Twists Book 1) Page 5
