Wake Me With a Kiss: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Regency Fairy Twists Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  “Yer lucky I’m a gentleman.”

  “Yer no gentleman,” she hissed. “Ye never will be. Yer just a highland soldier. Ye will never fit in here, never be worthy of the title of laird.” She tried to tug her wrists from his grip, but he held her tight.

  “I dinnae wish to see ye again tonight, Marianne,” he told her, his voice low. “And if ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll stay out of sight for the next week too, until I return from Edinburgh. Then ye’ll have yer payment and ye’ll be gone. Do ye understand?”

  Her chin quivered. “That is all I get, is it? A payment and I am cast out like old shoes. I gave the best years of my life to Malcolm. Gave him my body, my beauty. Now what do I have? Nothing. I am old and penniless. What hope is there for me?”

  He snorted. “Ye’ll be paid well enough. Find yerself some other desperate old man to take advantage of. I am sure there are many out there willing to overlook yer age.”

  “Bastard,” she hissed.

  Hamish released her and she staggered back.

  “Dinnae let me see ye again, Marianne. I might forget my generosity.”

  She glared at him for a moment before dashing away. Hamish took the chance to inhale several deep breaths and calm himself. He should not have let this go on so long. His duties be damned, he should have gone to Edinburgh as soon as he’d discovered her presence here and arranged with his lawyers to ensure she never returned. It was either that or bodily throw her out, but as much as she protested otherwise, he was a gentleman and he had no desire to see the scheming woman rot on the streets. If his cousin did indeed care for her at all, he had to at least ensure she was looked after—though perhaps not to the luxurious degree she wanted.

  By the time he had calmed himself, his first guests arrived. Several others joined them, being somewhat fashionably late. When Rose and her aunt finally turned up, they were more than fashionably late but he could not be at all put out by it. Not when he set eyes on Rose.

  The pale column of her gown brought out the golden highlights in her hair. She had it coiled high with several ringlets scattered around her face and neck. Tiny white blossoms were scattered amongst the curls along with a glimmering comb tucked in at the back that caught the lamp light.

  She smiled at him, and he could have sworn he nearly toppled over. As she approached, he had to press his hand to his side to keep it from trembling.

  “You are spectacular,” he whispered before the aunt joined them. Her shy smile in response made his heart trip over itself.

  “Mrs. Merriweather, I am so glad ye could join us.”

  “Well, goodness…” She waved her fan “…we nearly did not make it. One of the horses had not been shoed properly and there was quite a rush trying to ensure she was.”

  “Yer here now, and that’s all that matters.”

  His gaze connected with Rose’s. He had so many things he wanted to tell her but could not. How wonderful she looked. How he could not decide if he preferred her delicately styled hair or the wild look she usually sported. Or if he admired her clean, smooth cheeks more than the dirt-streaked ones.

  In truth, he adored both looks.

  “You look very handsome,” she managed to whisper while her aunt admired the grand hall.

  With high ceilings and a balcony running all the way around the edge of the second level, it was a taste of medieval that all guests admired. The wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling by a long rope, casting the room in flickering light.

  “This is wonderful, my laird,” Mrs. Merriweather exclaimed.

  He noted he was no longer Hamish. Hopefully that was merely to do with the company rather than a mark of her feelings toward him.

  “Have ye never been in the great hall, Mrs. Merriweather?”

  “No. I have been inside the castle but once and only the entranceway.”

  “I trust ye shall take the opportunity to explore the castle while ye are visiting. It was built in the thirteenth century and has changed little since, save for a few modern renovations.”

  “Oh, Rose adores history. We shall certainly take a look around. She has recently been reading about some of the great battles of Scotland, particularly those in the Highlands. I am sure you can tell her a thing or two.”

  Rose dropped her gaze to the floor. Lord, he adored the way she blushed so obviously. It could not be called a delicate blush as it swept over her from her cheeks to her forehead, but it was such a tell of her feelings. She could never connive or plot like Marianne. Everyone would know instantly she had lied.

  “Aye, ye said ye were reading about Scottish history. Cousin Malcolm kept quite a history of the castle in the library. If we have time, I shall have to show ye it all.”

  “We would be delighted,” her aunt said, gracefully.

  As much as he knew Rose could not be left alone, he wanted her alone. He needed just a brief moment. That was all.

  His attention was drawn reluctantly away by some of his other guests, and he spent much of the evening wishing he could be by Rose’s side but horribly aware he could not show her too much attention—not yet. If he was going to prove himself something other than a boorish highlander, he would do things right.

  Even over dinner, he managed to keep his distance. Her aunt was on one side of him and a Lady Gladstone was on the other. He devoted his attention to them equally but not without the occasional glance toward Rose. He noted several other gentlemen spared her a few glances. Most were married men, but the few who were not were certainly vying for her attention.

  He curled a hand around the stem of his wine glass and forced a smile. Hamish had to admit, being a boorish highlander had its advantages in the past. Had he encountered a similar situation, he might have stood up, warned the men off, and dragged Rose away.

  However, Rose deserved better than that, and he would not ruin what they had for anything.

  He hardly remembered a morsel he ate. The tang of the lemon cream lingered in his mouth, but he could barely recall swallowing it. Once dinner was finished, they moved back into the great hall and one of the ladies deigned it time to take to the piano. He had not really planned on dancing though he had attended enough officers’ balls to know most parties turned to dancing eventually, even if they had the most mediocre piano players amongst them.

  He offered his hand to Mrs. Merriweather who shied away and suggested he dance with her niece. Keeping the grin from his face proved difficult. He could not have planned it better.

  As they weaved through the moves to the minuet, Hamish relished each brush of their hands. “I have missed ye,” he murmured.

  “I have been here all evening,” she said with a teasing smile.

  “And yet I have barely been able to say two words to ye.”

  “You are quite in demand, are you not, Laird McTavish?”

  “Aye.” He chuckled. “Did ye no’ know I am the talk o’ the town?”

  “Really? And here I had not heard a thing of you until we met.”

  “Och, ye hadnae been listening properly. That’s yer problem, lass.”

  They moved apart as the couples came down the line, and they weaved about the others before meeting again. “Ye dance well for a highlander,” she remarked.

  “And ye dance well for a country lass.”

  “I taught myself. Mrs. Shaw and Miss Taylor were frightfully sick of being dragged into my pretend balls as a child.”

  “Ye have never danced at any balls?”

  She shook her head. “My aunt would not allow it.”

  “I hope,” he said sincerely, “that she will allow ye more dances in the future.”

  “I hope so too. I think she is thoroughly charmed by you. You could probably ask anything of her and she would accept.”

  “I dinnae think I have ever managed to charm anyone.”

  A soft smile graced her lips. “Well, you have charmed two people of late.”

  Chapter Nine

  It had been impossibly hard to keep her attention
on anyone but Hamish. He looked so incredibly handsome in his regimental jacket and kilt. With his jaw clean shaven, his hair slightly tamed, he made Rose’s heart stutter every time he glanced her way.

  And, goodness, they had danced together. For the first time in her life, she had danced with a man.

  She had danced with other men too, but Hamish had been her first, and best. Honestly, she never wanted the night to end.

  It would soon enough, however. A few guests had already left and though some danced, a couple were showing signs of weariness. Her aunt May remained propped in the corner with a glass of punch, seeming very at home speaking with Lady Gladstone. The woman was of a similar age to Aunt May, and it made Rose smile to see the two women gossiping. It had never occurred to her that her aunt might wish to spend more time with other people. It had always seemed that her aunt was content with isolating herself—and her niece along with her. Perhaps she could persuade her aunt to spend more time with some of their neighbors.

  “Come here.”

  She whirled and Hamish took her hand, dragging her away from the hall and into a recess by one of the windows. They were out of sight but not technically out of the room.

  “Hamish!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”

  And, oh, how he continued to. Her pulse beat like galloping horse hooves at his proximity. She could smell the faintest hint of soap and see the scar on his neck. One day she would ask him about that.

  “We should not be alone,” she whispered, glancing around his large body to see if anyone could see them.

  “Just for a moment. No one will notice, I swear.”

  “But, Hamish…”

  “I had to see ye alone, Rose. It’s been a torturous night.”

  She smiled and nodded her agreement. It had. All she had wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and receive his kisses.

  “Thank you for inviting us. Even Aunt May has enjoyed herself.”

  “I’m glad, but ye know I only had one reason for even hosting this debacle.”

  “You did?”

  “Aye. It was ye, lass. I wanted a chance to invite ye here, to show ye my home and…”

  “And…”

  “Well, kiss ye if I got the damned chance.” He dropped his lips quickly to hers, the warm touch so fleeting that she was hardly sure it had happened yet a soft sensation budded inside her.

  “A dinner party all for one kiss. Goodness, you must be desperate.”

  “Och, I am.” He shook his head. “Ye have no idea.”

  He eyed her for a moment, searching deep in her gaze. Rose was held captive. Unable to move, unable to think. He dropped another kiss on her lips before glancing around.

  “I should like to court ye, Rose.”

  She started at him for some time, the words ringing around in her head. A few weeks ago she could not have imagined a braw highlander, or any man for that matter, wishing to court her. Now this was happening…she resisted the desire to pinch herself.

  “Rose?”

  “Forgive me. You took me by surprise.”

  “I would have thought I’d made my feelings clear by now. I dinnae go around kissing every woman, ye know.”

  “Yes, I think I do. I simply meant things have happened so quickly. I could not have conceived you asking me such things not long ago.”

  “They have happened quickly, but I am no’ a man to waste my time. In battle, I made decisions quickly. I saw lives taken away by indecision. I have no wish to miss out on happiness because I couldnae make a decision swiftly. I know what I want, Rose, and it’s ye.”

  She reached to touch the lapel of his jacket, focusing her gaze on the gold trim there for a moment, allowing herself a brief respite from his intense gaze.

  “No one has over spoken to me so.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I should very much like you to court me.”

  His grin expanded. “I shall call on yer aunt soon and speak with her.”

  “I am sure she will have no objections.”

  “Hopefully not or else I shall have to find some other thief to tackle.”

  A scream drew Hamish’s attention from her. He whipped his head around and groaned. A dog barked.

  “Rupert,” they both said.

  Hamish darted out of the alcove, and Rose waited but a moment before following suit. The dog ran from person to person, scrabbling up gowns and breeches and generally causing chaos. Drinks spilled and women cried out. Rupert knocked over a candelabra as Hamish tried to grab him.

  The dog sprinted past, toward her. Rose put out her hands in invitation but the dog, in spite of hardly being that large, refused to slow down and caught her so that she tumbled to the floor. Rupert barreled on, buoyed with excitement at the sight of all these people in his home. He did a few more laps of the hall whilst Hamish aided Rose to her feet, then Rupert darted out of the doorway into the entrance hall.

  Hamish cursed. “I dinnae ken how he got out. He was meant to be locked upstairs. I knew he’d be too excited.”

  “You had better see if you can catch him.”

  He sighed and nodded, leaving the room. Aunt May came to join her. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “Yes, just a little tumble.”

  “What a wild dog.”

  “He’s just a little excitable.” Rose frowned and glanced up as something caught her eye. A woman stood on the balcony, a twisted smile on her face as she watched everyone below. Dressed in emerald green, she looked ready for the party yet she had not seen her once. Rose recognized her as the late laird’s mistress, but what was she still doing here? She caught Rose staring and her bitter smile deepened before she turned and entered the upper chambers. What was she doing in Hamish’s castle?

  Most of the guests were readying to leave after the dog had put an end to the dance. Aunt May took her arm. “We should think of leaving too.”

  “I would like to make sure Rupert is well.”

  Her aunt sighed. “Very well. Let me say farewell to Lady Gladstone before she goes.”

  Rose nodded absently and stared at the doorway where the woman had vanished. Something about her unnerved Rose.

  By the time Hamish had returned to the Great Hall, all had left apart from her and Aunt May. He grimaced. “My guests likely think me rude.”

  “Not at all. I think everyone has had an excellent evening,” Aunt May assured.

  “Rupert slipped out of the castle. I fear he’ll run off again.”

  “Perhaps he will return in the morning,” her aunt suggested.

  “The mutt is daft, unfortunately. When he gets over-excited there’s no telling what he will do.”

  “We should go look for him,” Rose announced, touched by the worry grooved deep into his brow. “I will help.”

  Aunt May scowled. “It’s getting cold out, Rose, and likely to rain.”

  “Aye, I cannae ask ye to risk yer health for a dog, but I will have to search for him. I apologize for my rudeness, but I cannae leave him out there.”

  “Aunt,” Rose pressed. There was no chance she was leaving Hamish to look for him on his own.

  “Oh, very well.” She pulled off her shawl. “Wrap this about you and be careful.”

  Rose nodded and did as she was told, bundling the shawl tight about her shoulders.

  “I could find ye a jacket though I fear it would drown ye,” he offered.

  “Yes, it would and likely hinder me more than anything. I will be well enough. It is not the first time I have been out in the cold.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be but a moment.”

  When he returned, he was wearing a thick, practical jacket and tatty boots. Although she missed the elegance of his regimental wear, she rather liked the plain look. It reminded her of when she had first met him. He held the lamp in his hand aloft, and they set out together calling his name.

  “Damned dog,” he muttered as they paused to listen for any sign of him.

  Rose glanced back at the castle, the windows agl
ow against the inky blackness of the hills. “However did he get out?”

  “None of the servants would have let him out, not on purpose at least. They know well enough the chaos he can cause. He must have slipped out.”

  Rose longed to ask about the woman. She had an inkling it had been her who had let him out and she had come to watch the mess he caused, but it didn’t seem the right time whilst he was fretting over the dog.

  “Rupert!” he bellowed.

  They trudged along farther, getting nearer to the forest. “You do not suppose he has gone to Aunt May’s house, do you?”

  “He could have done, but I dinnae think he would have the sense to follow the scent. Each time he’s dashed off, I’ve found him somewhere else.”

  “Rupert is a mischief.”

  “Aye, that is one way of putting it.”

  “How would you put it?”

  “A pain in the arse.”

  She laughed. “That too.” They stopped again. Though the night was dark, the lamp cast enough glow for them to see through the trees. “Perhaps we should check around the castle first. If he has gone to my aunt’s house, we will find him when we return.”

  “Aye. I’ll see ye ladies home, and we can see if we dinnae find Rupert somewhere in the fields.”

  “Why Rupert, Hamish? It is hardly a dog-like name.”

  “I served with a Rupert in my first year of fighting. He was a good man and taught me a lot. He died at the Siege of San Sebastian.”

  “I am sorry.” She pressed a hand over her mouth. “I should not have said anything. I meant no insult to your friend’s memory.”

  He shook his head. “Och, I know ye would never mean any harm. Yer a good lass, Rose. I do wish the damned dog hadn’t taken on some of the man’s traits though. He was known for getting over-exited at balls too.”

  As they made their way back to the keep, a light spatter of rain started up. Rose grimaced. Drops hung on her delicately curled hair, near dragging them to the ground. And to think how Miss Taylor had so diligently helped her. While the rain increased, her hair drooped ever lower and began to stick to her face.

  “We had better make haste,” Hamish said, tugging off his evening jacket and slinging it over her shoulders.