Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  "If we don't find the skates before tea, I want to go on an adventure with you and Gracie. I've barely stepped a foot outside the castle since we arrived, and to be completely candid, I am growing restless. I wish to explore the land."

  Fergus rather liked that she wanted to see Aldmist Fell beyond the walls of the castle. As the land steward, Aldmist Fell was his pride and joy. His father had worked the land when Fergus was a lad, and after his father had been laid to rest, the former lord of the estate handed Fergus the responsibility of tending the land. Some day he hoped to have a son of his own to ensure Aldmist Fell continued to flourish.

  "I'll accept that wager," he said, "and if we find the skates before tea, you will answer three questions about yerself."

  Her gaze turned to ice and he could sense a wall erecting between them. "What could I possibly tell you that you don't already know, Mr. McTaggart?"

  He didn't want to frighten her away by asking questions of a too personal nature. "I dinna know yer favorite holiday sweet, or if you like ta sing carols, or if you've ever been on a sleigh ride."

  "Oh." She blinked, obviously caught off guard by his harmless inquiry. "Well, I've always loved fruited nut cake. I like to sing, although I suspect others would prefer I not since I cannot carry a tune. And I've never had the opportunity to go for a sleigh ride."

  He grinned. "See? That wasna difficult."

  "No, I guess it wasn't." She smiled, her face softening. "Where should we begin our search?"

  "How about over there?" He pointed to a stack of trunks furthest away from where he thought the skates would be found. This was one wager he didn't mind losing, because he suspected he could sneak in a question or two when they explored Aldmist Fell. And if he couldn't, he had no doubt Gracie would perform the task for him. Full of curiosity, that lassie was.

  He grasped the handles of the top trunk, lowered it to the ground, and popped the lid open. "You start with this one, and I will check the one beneath it."

  EDITH SWIPED A SLEEVE across her damp forehead. The afternoon light barely penetrated the gloom of the tower chamber, and their chances of finding the skates were fading with the setting sun.

  Mr. McTaggart rocked back on his heels, abandoning the trunk he was searching to pull a watch from his pocket. "It appears you won the wager, lass. Lady Thorne is likely wondering why you've not made an appearance in the drawing room this afternoon."

  Edith released a sigh, partly from relief that she wouldn't be subjected to more questions, even if the ones Mr. McTaggart had sneaked in during their hunt had been harmless. He'd asked about her favorite places in London, if she knew how to skate, and how long she had been caring for Miss Gracie before Lord Thorne found them in Chelsea.

  The girl had been living with Edith and Lavinia only a few months before the baron arrived at their door and arranged a reunion between Lavinia, Gracie, and their long lost sister, Helena. After her first husband's death, Helena had traveled to London to find her sisters and enlisted Lord Thorne's help.

  Edith's attachment to Miss Gracie formed quickly. She was exactly the type of girl Edith would want for a daughter, and since Edith was very unlikely to become a mother, she cherished her time with the girl.

  "What tea do you prefer?" Mr. McTaggart asked.

  She shook her head and chuckled softly. "I do not care for tea, but I manage to choke it down to be polite."

  Why he cared to ask such insignificant things about her, she couldn't understand. Only once had a man shown interest in her, and he'd turned out to be a black-hearted scoundrel. Experience suggested she should be wary of any man's attention, but common sense told her not all men were like Jimmy Gibb.

  Lord Thorne was a good man, and Lavinia's benefactor was the most generous man Edith had ever met. When Lord St. Ambrose took Lavinia from the brothel and offered his protection, he agreed to support Edith as well since doing so would make Lavinia happy. And the way Mr. McTaggart treated Lady Thorne, Gracie, and his kinswomen suggested he was of the same ilk as these two honorable gentlemen. His actions were foolish and reckless, but his heart seemed pure.

  Mr. McTaggart stood and extended his hand in an offer to help her up. "I will see you to the drawing room then continue the search."

  She ignored his offer and returned to rummaging through the trunk in front of her. "I will stay until they are found, thank you very much."

  He answered with a grunt, only this time he didn't sound annoyed. "Suit yerself."

  When she reached the bottom of the trunk and found nothing but old clothes, Mr. McTaggart returned it to its place and retrieved another from a different stack. He knelt beside her as she lifted the lid.

  "This one looks familiar," he said. "I think this could be the one."

  Edith lifted a wool blanket and uncovered a tangle of skates. "How many are there?"

  "Enough for everyone to have a spin around the pond," Mr. McTaggart said, "except Mrs. Mason's husband, of course."

  Mrs. Mason—Pearl—was another of Lady Thorne's once lost sisters. Approximately a year earlier, Pearl answered an advertisement to become Mr. Mason's nurse. The landowner lost his leg in a farming accident and had required a caretaker. During his long convalescence, Pearl and Mr. Mason fell in love. Recently, they were married.

  "Pearl's husband has been fitted with a prosthetic leg," Edith said, "but I agree skating is an unlikely activity for him. Perhaps I should speak with Gracie about choosing something everyone can enjoy."

  "A chair will do for the lad." Mr. McTaggart took out a skate and ran his finger gingerly over the blade. "The men can take turns pushing him about so he willna have ta miss out on the festivities."

  Edith dropped the folded blanket on her lap and smiled. "I think I have been too harsh with you, Mr. McTaggart. You are much more considerate than first impressions suggest."

  His wide grin made her heart skip. "You mean for a blasted Scottish oaf?" He dropped the skate back in the trunk and retrieved the blanket from her lap. "You have a stray eyelash. Let me get it for you." Leaning close, he brushed the back of his finger across her cheek. Her breath froze in her lungs. If he tried to kiss her again, she didn't have the willpower to resist.

  "Yer a decent sort for a Sassenach, too," he murmured. "No' ta mention verra bonnie."

  Bonnie?

  The air whooshed from her. His compliment was like a bucket of cold water dumped over her head. Edith was far from pretty. Men rarely paid her much notice. Her silver hair and spectacles had become like a cloak, lending her invisibility and security at the brothel. She'd never been one of the women to draw in customers, which was the reason Madam Montgomery had allowed her to hide in the kitchen.

  She hopped up from the floor. "I should go. As you said, Lady Thorne is likely wondering where I am." Hurrying for the door, she didn't look back. It didn't matter what he thought of her abrupt departure. She'd not risk her livelihood listening to false flattery, not again.

  Once upon a time, she had lived an honorable life and thrown it all away for a few sweetly whispered odes to her beauty. As a result, she had lost her seamstress position and been evicted from the boarding house. She was older and wiser now, and she'd not lose her position with Lady Thorne by listening to Mr. McTaggart's lies.

  Kissed by a Scottish Rogue: Chapter Three

  AS FERGUS WAS HAULING THE TRUNK of skates to the storeroom in the servants' quarters, he met his sister and a female cousin in the corridor.

  "Dare I ask what's in the trunk?" Ismay asked with a toss of her chestnut locks. "Everyone knows you hied off with that harpy Edith Gallagher this afternoon."

  Fergus glowered when she and Leana giggled. He didn't know if he was more upset with the insult to his integrity or his sister calling Mistress Gallagher a harpy. The woman could kick up a fuss for certain, but she didn't holler just to hear her voice. He did take risks with Miss Gracie—at least it would seem that way to a Sassenach—but the little lassie was never in any danger. Mistress Gallagher cared for the girl and hadn't
yet realized he did too.

  "If yer suggesting I have Mistress Gallagher in here," he said as he scooted past his kin and disappeared into the storeroom, "you've a wicked streak, lass. You should seek out the minister's counsel and beg him ta pray for you."

  Ismay followed him into the storeroom and playfully stuck out her tongue when he looked in her direction. "What an excellent suggestion. I have no' shocked Reverend Adair for over a fortnight, and that is half the fun of misbehaving."

  Fergus shook his head, unable to keep the smile from his face as he deposited the trunk on the floor. His younger sister was cheeky, but she was a good lass. Besides, she knew her backside would be on the receiving end of a switch if she didn't behave. Their mother tolerated no nonsense from anyone. "Why no' go bedevil yer beau and leave me in peace?" he said.

  "Terrence is tending the horses. Dinna think I'm foolish enough ta step foot in the stables. I havena forgotten yer threat ta run my betrothed through with a blade if you catch me down there."

  "I can go with her," Leana called from the corridor. Recently, their fifteen-year-old cousin had discovered lads and in turn, they had begun to notice her. Fergus wouldn't allow Ismay or Leana to frequent the stables, even if his sister was nineteen and soon to be a married woman. There were a few too many straw piles in the stables for his liking.

  Fergus responded with a half growl, half grunt.

  His sister grinned. "Why do you think I have her helping me today? That way I can keep an eye on her."

  "Keep both eyes on the lass. She has always been one ta get up ta mischief."

  Leana peeked around the doorjamb. With her peaches and cream complexion and strawberry blond hair, it was no wonder the lads wanted to chase her. Unfortunately, she didn't have the good sense to run. "I can hear every word yer saying, cousin."

  "I meant you ta hear." He winked at his sister and chucked Leana on the chin when he exited the room. "Now if I can only get you ta listen."

  As he headed toward the kitchen, Ismay rallied their young cousin to follow her above stairs to help with the final preparations to Helena's sisters' chambers. Helena wanted everything perfect for her sisters, and the staff at Aldmist Fell cared for her as if she were one of their own. They would make certain their lady was well pleased with every detail.

  Fergus found his mother in the kitchen wringing out a piece of muslin and barking orders at her two assistants. Her face lit up as he strolled in. "There ye are. I wasna certain ye would be here for supper since I didna see ye all afternoon."

  "I have no' missed a meal yet, have I?" He rounded the baker's table to kiss her plump cheek as she spread the wet cloth over the table. Even though his work at Aldmist Fell sometimes kept him outdoors for long hours, he always made time to sit for meals with the house servants, most of whom were his kin. "Miss Gracie kept me busy today. I spent the better part of the afternoon searching for skates for the ice skating outing she has planned. The lass has a list of ideas as tall as she is."

  His mother chuckled, her shoulders jostling as she dug a handful of flour from a bowl and sprinkled it over the cloth. "Aye. We'll have no rest with that one around."

  Fergus moved to the end of the table so he wasn't in her way. He watched her efficient movements with interest. "Are you making clootie dumplings?"

  She nodded and swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, leaving a dusting of flour. "Miss Gracie has never had them. The poor child knows nothing about the Highlands."

  "Weel, she couldna have a better teacher. You'll have her whipped into shape before she heads back ta England."

  "Aye. She'll no' learn it from any of the Sassenachs. Bless her soul."

  Despite his mother's initial show of exasperation over the horde of Sassenachs that would be descending on the castle, her beaming smile suggested she actually was pleased. The former lord of Aldmist Fell—Helena's first husband—rarely entertained, unlike his parents before him. It had been many years since the castle had housed guests, which might account for everyone's high spirits. The staff was more jovial than he'd ever seen them. Without much excitement to be had in their small corner of northern Scotland, houseguests broke the monotony of winter.

  His mother looked up from her task. "What brings ye ta the kitchen? Dinner will no' be served for a while yet."

  "I've a favor ta ask," Fergus said. "Tomorrow afternoon I am taking Miss Gracie and Mistress Gallagher around the countryside, and I wondered if you would make yer fruited nut cake and pack some warm chocolate for the outing."

  His mother snorted, grabbed the large mixing bowl sitting on the counter to hug it close to her body, and wrestle the wooden spoon through the thick mixture of suet and currants. "Can ye no' sneak away with Miss Gracie before the shrew comes below stairs?"

  "Och." Fergus pinched the bridge of his nose. The womenfolk were giving him more trouble than he deserved today. "Mistress Gallagher is a decent sort." He felt the need to defend the lass since she had no one to take her side. Whereas Fergus had been born into a large family of ready allies, Mistress Gallagher had none. "And no, I cannae sneak away. I invited her ta join us."

  His mother stopped stirring to stare at him as if he was off his head. He held up his hand before he received an earful from his opinionated mother. "I've said my piece. I will no' hear anymore on the matter."

  She pursed her lips and slammed the bowl onto the counter. Wiping her hands on her apron, she shot a look toward her kitchen staff. "If it would please his Laird High-and-Mighty," she snipped, "I would beg a word with ye outside."

  He sighed, already regretting speaking to her in such a way in front of her subordinates. Even though he held a higher rank at Aldmist Fell as the land steward, she was his mother and deserved a different level of respect a cook without familial ties would be given. With a sharp nod, he granted her request and followed her into the corridor. She led him away from the kitchen.

  "Mother, I want ta make the holidays special for Helena—Lady Thorne. All those years separated from her family. It was no' right of her first husband ta keep her a prisoner."

  His mother turned on him to shake a finger in his direction. "Now you listen to me, Fergus McTaggart. I have been as patient with ye as any mother should be expected, but I cannae hold my tongue any longer. A man of three and thirty should have many a bairn by now." She punched her fists to her hips, giving her scolding finger a rest. "Ye have a family line to carry on, and ye cannae do yer duty as long as ye run circles for Lady Thorne and her wee sister. God knows I love them both, but their wishes cannae come above yer responsibilities to yer family."

  "Nothing is interfering with my duties." Fergus raked his fingers through his hair and growled under his breath. His mother hadn't opposed him traveling to London with Helena to search for her sisters, but she'd been badgering him to find a nice lass and settle down ever since he'd come home. He had nothing against marriage or bairns, but he wouldn't marry just any lass to make his mother happy. He had to find the right one, and his choices were limited in a small village where more than half the unmarried lasses were relatives. His luck might be improved in Inverness, but he was needed at Aldmist Fell until Lord and Lady Thorne returned to England after the new year.

  "Can we no' make it through Christmas first?" he said. "Mistress Gallagher and I have called a truce. Perhaps you and I can do the same. Once the Thornes leave, I will set my sights on courting a lass. I promise."

  His mother scowled. "I will hold ye to yer word. I expect ye to make me a grandma before Christmas next year." She jostled past him and stomped back toward the kitchen.

  He cursed softly. Glancing up, he discovered Mistress Gallagher standing at the end of the corridor. She was gripping her hands in front of her as if in prayer and looking any place but at him. "Forgive me," she muttered. "I did not mean to eavesdrop."

  He shrugged, not concerned that she'd overheard anything. There were no secrets among the servants at Aldmist Fell. For that matter, there were no secrets among the McTaggarts. A cla
nsman would be frustrated beyond reason if he expected any privacy. He came forward, noting how she fidgeted as he drew near. "I dinna mean to make you nervous, lass."

  She shook her head and dropped her hands at her sides. "You don't, Mr. McTaggart."

  He stopped in front of her, feeling like a giant in comparison. Her wide eyes said she was lying, but he didn't contradict her. "What can I do for you, mistress?"

  More strands of hair had slipped from her knot and her dress was a bit rumpled from their afternoon of digging through trunks, but she couldn't look prettier.

  She licked her lips, leaving behind a slight sheen. "I—I wanted to apologize for running off earlier. It was rude, and I was afraid it might affect our truce." Her soft blue gaze lifted to meet his and his heart tripped. "I liked not fighting with you this afternoon. I would not want to go back to old habits."

  She looked younger shifting from foot to foot—and innocent. She wasn't, of course. Mistress Gallagher had lived in a brothel, and Fergus had searched enough of them in London looking for Helena's sister to know one could not step a foot in such a place and maintain one's innocence. Yet, there was no denying her vulnerability, and it called to his protective instincts. His arms ached to wrap around her and shield her from any man that would dare misuse her. Instead, he took a step back before he gave in to the urge and embarrassed them both. "I gave my word, Mistress Gallagher, and I willna break it."

  The furrows between her brows disappeared and she offered a tentative smile. "I see. Well, it is good to know a man who keeps his word."

  He chuckled. "Have there been so few?"

  She blinked; the small smile she'd granted him disappeared. "My father was an honest man."

  "Was?"

  "Yes, honest 'til the day he died. Then there is Lord Thorne, Lord St. Ambrose, and… No, not him." Her gaze shifted toward the ceiling and her lips moved, as she seemed to be mentally sorting through all the men she had known in her lifetime. And not many were making it onto her good list.