Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  She couldn't understand a word the woman was shouting in Gaelic, but the tone was clear. She was in a temper.

  "Finella! Finella McTaggart, ye lazy girl! Get in 'ere before I skin ye alive." A loud clatter came from the kitchen, and Edith hastily turned to go back upstairs. "Oh, it is just you, Sassenach!"

  Edith cringed at the scorn in those words. Glancing over her shoulder, she discovered Mr. McTaggart's mother red-faced, dusted in flour, and glowering in the corridor.

  "I didn't mean to disturb you, ma'am. I only meant to return the hamper and thank you for the delicious fare."

  The older woman's mouth puckered. "Weel, I dinna have time for gabble." She stormed back into the kitchen.

  "Gabble? Me?" Edith was speaking the King's English. Madam Montgomery catered to gentlemen and saw to it her girls spoke properly, and Lavinia had continued to tutor Edith even after they retired to Chelsea.

  She followed the woman into the kitchen and came up short. Every surface was covered in flour, water bubbled over the side of a large pot on the woodstove, and a teetering stack of pans hung off the edge of a counter. Most notable, however, was how empty the massive kitchen was. Mrs. McTaggart had no help.

  Placing the hamper on the floor out of the way, Edith hurried to grab two towels next to the stove to remove the pot from the burner. "Was there an accident?"

  Mrs. McTaggart snorted. "Knowing the lass's pa, I'd wager its verra likely. No woman with her wits about her would lay wit' yon Gregory McTaggart on purpose."

  Edith choked down a laugh. "Pardon?"

  The woman snatched a knife from the counter and wrestled with a plucked and beheaded chicken before beginning the arduous task of cutting it up. She nailed Edith with a dark look. "Did ye no' listen to anythin' I said, Sassenach? I've a dinner for six that willna cook itself. I cannae stand 'round jabbering, no' when my help has run off and another is sick in bed."

  "Oh, dear. You've no one to assist?" Edith didn't wait for a reply before grabbing an apron from a peg on the wall and donning it. "Tell me what needs to be done."

  Mrs. McTaggart grunted, and it was all Edith could do to keep a straight face. Like mother, like son apparently. She spoke something in Gaelic and when Edith stared in bemusement, Mr. McTaggart's mother sighed. "Ye need to stay out of the way. I cannae have ye under foot."

  The scent of baking bread on the verge of burning filled the kitchen. Edith grabbed up the same towels she'd used for the pot and pulled the golden loaves from the oven. "I won't be under foot. I know my way around a kitchen. Just tell me what you need and I can do it."

  "And how do ye know yer way 'round a kitchen, lass?"

  Edith placed the loaves away from the stove to cool. "That was my job at the brothel. I cooked and cleaned to earn my keep."

  Mrs. McTaggart's knife thwacked against the cutting block. "The brothel? In the name of the wee man! Ye worked in a brothel?"

  Heat seared Edith's face and she ducked her head, too humiliated to look at the other woman. "I thought Mr. McTaggart would have told you."

  "My Fergus is no' loose wit' his tongue." Mrs. McTaggart wiped her hands on her apron then stalked toward her. Edith expected to be tossed out on her ear, but the woman's hands were gentle on her shoulders. "What happened, lass? No woman chooses that sort o' life unless she has no other choices. Dinna be ashamed."

  Edith blinked back the unexpected tears blurring her vision. "I lost my position as a seamstress and all my family was buried. I had no place to go, but Lady Thorne's sister took me in. She convinced the madam I could be of service in the kitchens. I swear, I was never… one of her girls."

  Mrs. McTaggart frowned. "It wouldna matter one way or another to me, Mistress Gallagher. If the menfolk took better care o' their lasses, no' one would be without a choice of where ta go. How did ye land on the streets?"

  Edith squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. She wasn't as ashamed of living at Madam Montgomery's house of ill repute as she was about wasting her virtue on Jimmy Gibb, silver-tongued devil that he was. Her mother warned her away from men like him, but her mother had been dead for two years when Jimmy came sniffing around her skirts. Without anyone to care about her, Edith had been lonely. And stupid.

  Mrs. McTaggart's light touch at Edith's chin caused her eyes to fly open. The older woman's green gaze radiated kindness and warmth, and her smile was encouraging. "Weel, never ye mind about that, Mistress Gallagher. Ye've put it behind ye and there it should stay."

  Edith tentatively returned her smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

  As quickly as Mrs. McTaggart's gentleness appeared, it vanished and she returned to her task. "I willna refuse yer help now that I kin ye can cook. The potatoes need peeling the rest o' the way. Ye can find a knife over there."

  Edith followed the direction of her nod and discovered a bowl of potatoes and a knife beside it. "Yes, ma'am."

  They worked the next hour in companionable silence. Once Edith had the potatoes on to boil and Mrs. McTaggart had prepared the chicken for frying, the cook dismissed her. "Ye should dress for dinner, lass. I can handle it from here."

  As Edith placed the apron back on the peg, Mrs. McTaggart called to her. "I'm sorry for earlier, Mistress Gallagher. I was a bit frazzled when ye found me."

  Edith shrugged and smiled. "I didn't notice." The kitchen at Aldmist Fell was one of the few places she felt at ease and capable. In truth, she was more suited to work at Mrs. McTaggart's side than dine with nobility. "Thank you for allowing me to help. It was good to be in the kitchen again."

  Mrs. McTaggart tossed a leg and thigh in the heavy iron skillet on the stove, intent on her task. "I was happy to have ye. Yer a good woman."

  "For a Sassenach?" Edith teased.

  "For anyone, lass. Dinna forget it."

  Kissed by a Scottish Rogue: Chapter Six

  THE NEXT DAY A VIVID BLUE sky and enough sunlight to chase away the chill greeted the occupants of Aldmist Fell. Perfect conditions for an ice skating party. Fergus glided around the ice, dodging McTaggarts and Thornes alike. He was glad some of his kin had taken up Helena's invitation to join her and her guests. Miss Gracie's eyes had doubled in size when they'd topped the hill and she'd spotted skaters already on the pond. Her first party was a grand success.

  "Fergus, look at me!" The lassie shuffled toward him, knock-kneed and as clumsy as a newborn colt, but what she lacked in coordination, she made up in enthusiasm.

  Fergus skidded to a halt to allow her to demonstrate her skill. "Verra well done, lass." Just as she did with most everything she tried, she tackled skating without fear. Consequently, she was building up speed and approaching a tad faster than he liked. "Do ye remember how to stop?"

  "No!" She giggled and flung her arms as if she were a windmill. "Help!"

  Fergus laughingly scooped her up before she collided with him and carefully lifted her to sit on his shoulders. She screeched when they teetered and covered his eyes.

  "Now I cannae see."

  "Sorry." She moved her hands to his forehead, knocking his hat askew. "Take me around the pond."

  He considered it for a fleeting moment. He'd strapped on his first pair of skates when he was a boy of three. Skating was in his blood, but carrying the little miss around on his shoulders would earn him a good scolding from Mistress Gallagher. And perhaps he would deserve it too, for no matter how confident he was in his abilities, accidents happened sometimes.

  "No' the of best ideas, lassie." He pulled her from her perch and held her upright until she found her balance. "It is high time I started using the brain God gave me."

  "You've been spending too much time with Edith," she quipped.

  He laughed. "Aye, perhaps that is so. I can skate with you, if you like."

  Spinning around, he took her hands and slowly started skating backward. It didn't take long for Miss Gracie to find her skating legs as they circled the pond. "Yer a natural, lass."

  She pulled one hand free. "I want to try by myself." Hesitantly she loosene
d her grip on his other hand and slid it from his hold until only their fingertips touched. "I think I can do it."

  "I know you can."

  Her beaming smile when she let go and didn't wobble warmed his heart from the inside out. It hit him full force that he wanted to teach his own child to skate while he was still able-bodied. His mother's harping on finding a wife and filling a nursery seemed less like a burden in that moment. It wasn't just a duty to fulfill in the future. Fatherhood became a gentle tug of longing.

  "I'm going to show Helena and Lavinia I can skate now," Miss Gracie said, already headed in the direction of the two ladies chatting around the warming fire. "You should teach Edith. She cannot skate either."

  His gaze was drawn to Mistress Gallagher where she was huddled around the fire as well. She stood at a slight distance from the other two ladies and made a show of warming her hands. Perhaps she was allowing the sisters privacy, although at a glance, she appeared slightly uncomfortable, as if she was uncertain of her place.

  As Miss Gracie approached the fire, however, Mistress Gallagher's face transformed with the most beautiful smile. Her eyes radiated love and her joyful applause for the girl's accomplishment rang with genuine pride. A powerful force slammed into his chest, stealing his breath.

  Crivvens! The mother of his future children had been under his nose this whole time.

  WHEN EDITH CHEERED FOR Gracie, Lavinia and Lady Thorne swung toward the ice. "Would you look at her?" Lavinia said. "She is in her element. I must admit she has thrived under your care."

  Lady Thorne hugged her sister. "We've done nothing you were not already doing."

  Edith smiled. Gracie was a true wonder, tackling new activities with little to no fear. Edith admired this quality in her, even though it increased her worry for the girl's safety at times.

  "Well done, Gracie!" Lord Thorne shouted from across the ice. He skated to the edge of the pond and gestured to his wife to join him. "You don't want to miss skating with her. She is beside herself with pride."

  Lady Thorne smiled at Lavinia. "Will you excuse me to skate with our little sister?"

  "Of course." Lavinia didn't know how to skate any more than Edith did. Their upbringings hadn't allowed for leisure activities. She moved closer to her friend.

  "Where is Lord Thorne's sister?" Lavinia asked. "I expected her and her new husband to be here in Scotland with the rest of the family."

  "They have taken a honeymoon trip. I don't know when they are expected to return."

  Now that Edith had a moment alone with her friend, she wanted to ask if everything was all right. Even after a good night's sleep, Lavinia seemed to be dragging. She yawned often and her eyelids were droopy. "How are you, Lavinia? Are you well?"

  "She is the picture of health. Just look at the rosy apples of her cheeks."

  Edith startled at Lord St. Ambrose's sudden appearance behind her.

  Lavinia cocked an eyebrow in his direction. "I wondered when you would join us. You promised business could wait until we returned."

  He sidled up beside her to place his arm around her shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek. "Forgive me, my love. I wrote to Mother letting her know we arrived safely."

  Edith doubted there was any mention of 'we' in the marquess's letter. She didn't need to be a member of High Society to know their unspoken rules: one never mentioned one's mistress, especially to one's mother.

  Lavinia's eyes narrowed. "You also promised to keep our association a secret."

  He simply shrugged and smiled.

  "August, you didn't."

  "Mother will learn about your existence once we marry," he said. "I'd prefer to win her approval before our wedding."

  "There will be no wedding." Lavinia sighed wearily, even as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his hug.

  Edith had grown accustomed to their recurrent arguments over Lord St. Ambrose's plan for their future, and Lavinia's lack of fire left Edith wondering if the marquess was breaking down her friend's resistance.

  "Mistress Gallagher?"

  Edith's heart sped at the sound of her address rolling off Mr. McTaggart's tongue. She would never admit it to anyone, but she was growing fond of his lovely brogue. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned toward him with a smile. "Good afternoon, sir."

  He held up two skates and aimed his crooked grin at her. "Are you ready for our next adventure?"

  She balked. "I—I don't skate."

  "It's high time ye learned, lass. Have a seat," he said and gestured toward a large stump. "I'll help you strap on the skates and teach you what to do."

  "Oh, no. You are not getting me on the ice."

  Lavinia came forward. "You should try. It looks like fun."

  "I don't see you speeding around the pond."

  "True," her friend whispered in her ear, "but I do not have a handsome man offering to teach me."

  Edith's face flooded with heat. "What does his appearance have to do with anything?" she grumbled under her breath.

  "It makes the task more pleasant." Lavinia chuckled and gave her a gentle push in Mr. McTaggart's direction. "Be brave, my friend."

  Edith glowered at Lavinia. It was obvious she wasn't coming to her rescue. Some friend she was.

  Mr. McTaggart held out his arm to Edith. "Shall we?" His deep green eyes twinkled with merriment as she accepted his escort and allowed him to draw her toward a stump. "If Mr. Mason can enjoy himself, so can you."

  On the ice, Pearl pushed her husband around on a ladder back chair. Their laughter carried across the pond.

  "Do you have a chair for me?" Despite her surly tone, she lowered to the stump and kicked her leg out in front of her.

  Mr. McTaggart knelt before her and grabbed her ankle to strap the skate to her boot. "You willna need a chair. I'll hold you up if you need it."

  Until that moment, she'd been worried about twisting an ankle or cracking her head on the ice. Skating became more enticing all of a sudden. She'd enjoyed his arm around her shoulders yesterday when they stood on the hill watching Gracie roll to the bottom. He was as solid as a bronze statue and yet when he'd held her, he was tender. She'd felt protected and cherished at the same time. Edith could get used to his touch, which would make returning to England more difficult than it needed to be.

  She considered bowing out after all, but he already had the skates strapped to her boots. Capturing both of her hands, he eased her to her feet. "Take some time to get yer balance, lass."

  Her ankles wobbled. "Heavens!" She dug her fingers into his forearms and clung to his sleeves when she tipped backward.

  His arms circled her waist and he cradled her against his chest. She felt steadier already, although her blood was sputtering through her veins. "It will come natural to you after a time," he said.

  "Natural?" she croaked. "I feel as if I'm trying to balance on the edge of a cliff."

  His mouth grazed her temple as he leaned down to speak in a voice as smooth and comforting as warm chocolate. "I willna let you fall. Ye have my word."

  Edith glanced up at him and nearly sighed before she caught herself. He grew more handsome each time she saw him, which must be a trick of her eyes. She wasn't wearing her spectacles lately since she only truly needed them for reading. Perhaps that accounted for his increasing appeal.

  His grin widened as he met her gaze. "Are ye ready to take the plunge, lass?"

  "I do not plunge, Mr. McTaggart. I give careful consideration to everything I undertake, and then I proceed with cau—"

  "You think too much." He lifted beneath her knees and carried her onto the ice.

  "Mr. McTaggart! What are you doing?"

  "Teaching you to have a little fun. Once ye've learnt that lesson weel, I'll show you how to skate." In a flash, they were flying along the ice.

  With a squeal, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed her eyes shut. Cool air rushed over her face.

  "Open yer eyes, lass."

  She shook her he
ad. "I don't want to see disaster coming."

  Laughter rumbled in his chest. "There willna be any disaster. I've been on skates as long as I've been walking. Will you trust me not to hurt you?"

  Earnestness rang in his words, and because she wanted to trust him, she cracked one eye open. The ice teemed with McTaggarts, and she was certain they would collide with one any moment, but Mr. McTaggart cut through the crowd with ease.

  A young man with unruly black hair drew even with them. He bestowed a heart-stopping smile on her before addressing Mr. McTaggart. "Abducted a woman, aye Fergus? Wise. How else are ye going to get a pretty one in yer bed?"

  Mr. McTaggart growled at his clansman. "Show some respect, whelp, before I show yer nose my fist."

  The young man winked at her before lurching out of Mr. McTaggart's reach. The bigger man cursed him.

  Edith giggled nervously at the memory of Mr. McTaggart's large bed in his chamber.

  "Forgive my cousin's lack of manners," he said. "Hamish's mother dropped him on his head one too many times. Knocked the sense right out of him, not to mention his manners."

  "Oh?" Her smiled faded. She didn't mind being disrespected nearly as much when someone called her pretty. It was a petty, vain thought, but all her life she'd been the plain sister. The invisible one at the brothel. Or the forgettable friend. Believing she was attractive, even for a fleeting moment, felt nice.

  Mr. McTaggart's arms flexed beneath her knees, and she wondered if he was growing tired of holding her. He cleared his throat. "I dinna abduct lasses, and I havena had one in my bed for a long time, but it's by choice."

  She flicked a hand in the air. "I really don't need to know about your—your personal affairs."

  His brow wrinkled. "There isna much considered personal with the McTaggarts. Everyone knows what each other is up to all the time, so you might hear a tale or two about my younger days. I was a bit of a rogue, but I can promise you. I dinna intend to bed you, no matter how pretty you are. I know yer a respectable lass and I'd never mistreat you."