Blame It on Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  Sophie popped up and went to the kitchen cabinet. “There has to be some biscuits in here. Mrs. McNabb just stocked the place.” She produced some McVities Digestives and came back to the table, ripping open the sleeve. “Here.”

  Ryn took one of the cookies.

  Sophie sighed, grinning. “Hugh has big plans for Whussendale. At the prospect of holding retreats here, his wheels have been turning. He thinks we should build the retreat center between the green grocer and the church. And because supplies will be needed for the retreat center, he’d like to add a haberdashery to Whussendale with quilt fabrics, wool for knitting, and paper crafting supplies for those who scrapbook. What vision he has!” She laughed. “Big plans for such a small village.”

  Ryn’s wheels were spinning now, too, but not about turning Whussendale into a crafting hotspot and filling the town with artisans. She was thinking about Maggie. Surely there was some way she could help her cousin so she wouldn’t have to be in charge of the upcoming retreat. Ryn didn’t think it was enough to offer to help…Maggie needed more assistance than that. In fact, Ryn thought Maggie needed it off her plate completely.

  She turned to Sophie, who was taking a second cookie. “I have an idea.”

  Sophie put the cookie down. “You do?”

  This was pretty bold, even for a woman who’d hopped a plane and flew all the way to Scotland by herself. Maybe Ryn should mull it over for a day, but there wasn’t time. The quilt retreat was in two days! “What if I take Maggie’s place and head up the quilt retreat for her?”

  Sophie’s look of surprise was nearly comical at first, but then she gave Ryn a worried shake of her head. “Deydie expects Maggie to not only oversee the retreat, but to teach as well.”

  Ryn nibbled a little on her cookie before answering the implied question. “I can teach. But I don’t have any experience with making wool quilts. Do you think the retreat goers would be opposed to switching? Let’s say to making a Modern quilt?” She had, after all, brought her True Colors quilt with her to work on while she was in Scotland. “I can give you a list of the fabric they would need.” But then remembered how remote Whussendale was. “This is short notice. Will finding fabric be a problem?”

  Sophie broke into a smile. “Getting fabric won’t be an issue.” But she sobered in the next second. “It’s Deydie ye’ll have to worry aboot.”

  Ryn looked side to side, as if looking for a phantom Deydie. “How will she know? She’s not here.”

  “True.” Mischief danced in Sophie’s eyes and a maniacal grin came to her lips. “It’s not often, or ever, one of us can pull one over on that old quilter.”

  Ryn touched her arm, trying to bring Sophie back to what was important. “I’m not trying to fool anyone. I just think Maggie can’t handle doing this retreat.”

  “True.”

  “Then let’s not tell Deydie what we plan to do. Deal?” Ryn asked.

  “Aye. At dinner tonight, we’ll break the good news to Maggie.”

  Ryn put her hand up to throw on the brakes. “Let’s not say anything to Maggie just yet.” There were a lot of ducks to get in a row.

  “I understand,” Sophie said. “When do I get to see the quilt that you’re going to teach?”

  “It’s in my luggage. I’ll show you after I unpack.” Ryn stifled a yawn and ignored the growing effects of the long flight and her crazy day. “I better get that fabric list together for you.”

  “There’s paper and pens in the basket on the counter.” Sophie rose. “I’ll leave you to it. I have to speak with Mrs. McNabb. Dinner is at six. Hugh and I expect you to be there. ”

  “Okay.” As her new friend left, Ryn glanced over at the Goodbye quilt and felt comforted. “Just like home.”

  What a strange day and a strange turn of events. At least for the next few days, she knew what she would be doing and where she was going to stay.

  She rolled her suitcase to the bed and laid it on top, covering the spot where the baby had lain. She pulled out the True Colors pieces and took them to the table. For the next few hours, she holed up in her cottage, writing up the list of fabric for Sophie and the instructions for the quilt. She worked until she could no longer ignore her aching head. The clock on the wall alerted her that she’d been up nearly thirty hours. No wonder I feel like I hit a brick wall! She slid her suitcase to the floor and stretched out on the bed.

  She woke to the sound of tapping at the door. Discombobulated and feeling unsure of where she was, she crawled out of bed and made her way across the cottage. When she opened the door, she had to blink a couple of times, waiting until the faces of Sinnie, Rowena, and the boy Dand fully registered.

  Dand, wearing a kilt, stepped inside authoritatively. “The Laird said for ye to come to dinner.”

  Rowena pulled him back by the shoulder. “We’re here to fetch ye.”

  “But only if you want to come,” Sinnie added. She held out a heavy raincoat and Wellies to her. “Sophie asked me to bring these along.”

  Ryn’s stomach had been trying to wake her for the last hour. “Thanks.” She took the items from Sinnie and slipped on the Wellies and the coat, making sure to grab the list for Sophie before she left.

  The four of them walked back to the castle together while Dand told how he’d like to go fishing on the loch.

  “The Laird said I could use the dinghy,” he said cheerfully.

  “But only if an adult is with ye,” Rowena said firmly.

  Dand stomped his foot. “He didn’t say that.” The two argued the rest of the way.

  Instead of using the front entrance, Sinnie and Rowena guided them around to the side. “Sophie said that since we’re family, we should use the kitchen entrance.”

  “Oh.” Ryn didn’t know about family but Sophie had been very welcoming.

  As they walked through the door, wagging tails and whining met them. The Wallace and the Bruce, not inconspicuously in the least, kept glancing to their leashes on the hook, as if the newcomers were to take them for a walk.

  “Boys, get away from there,” Sophie said laughing. She wore a blue plaid dress with a thin belt at the middle, tights, and a pair of flats. The dogs ran to her, plopped their rumps down on the tile, assuming their place by her side like sentinels. She handed them both bone-shaped treats.

  When Rowena and Sinnie slipped off their coats, Ryn noticed they, too, were wearing casual dresses. Ryn looked down, grimacing at her now crumpled black pantsuit. She groaned, inwardly. If she’d known she should dress nicely for dinner, she would’ve worn one of the cute outfits in her suitcase.

  Sophie came to her and slipped an arm around Ryn’s shoulder. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it. We should’ve told you we were dressing for dinner.” She shrugged. “It’s Hugh’s idea. He’s trying to revive the old traditions of Kilheath Castle.”

  Ryn stuffed her embarrassment away as she pulled the list of fabrics for Sophie from her pocket. “Here’s a sketch of the True Colors quilt for the retreat and the fabric needed.”

  Sophie gazed at the picture first. “This is grand. When the Whussendale ladies see this, they’ll have no problem switching from doing a wool quilt to a Modern. I know I’ll enjoy making such a bold quilt.” She scanned the list of fabrics. “And this looks doable. Between all of us here, we should have enough fabric to make your quilt. If not, there’s always the quilt shop in Inverness.” Her eyes twinkled and her smile was so genuine, Ryn was beginning to believe it was all going to work out fine.

  Hugh, wearing a kilt and looking his part as Lord of the Manor, strolled into the room, smiling at the group. Nonchalantly, he nabbed a piece of bread from the counter.

  Sophie swatted at him, but he got away. “Mrs. McNabb said she left you yere favorite—haggis potato apple tarts—but I’ll not tell ye where they are if ye don’t stop with the filching.”

  He laughed, scanning the kitchen. “Where did ye hide them this time, wife?”

  Sinnie and Rowena went to the counter and retrieved the
plates and silverware.

  “Come, Dand,” Rowena said. “Ye’ll help with setting the table.”

  “Do I have to?” But Dand was already picking up the napkins before following them to the door.

  “Make room for one more,” the Laird called to them, but they were gone.

  Sophie pulled the roast from the oven. “Who else is coming to dinner, Hugh?”

  Hugh patted the Wallace’s head. “I invited Tuck to dine with us.”

  Involuntarily, Ryn’s libido bounded to life. Kilted’s coming to dinner?

  Hugh smiled at Ryn as if he knew what she was thinking and was one step ahead of her. “I thought Tuck could keep our American guest company.”

  A second later, a knock came at the kitchen door. Ryn couldn’t help but compare the tapping on her door with this more forceful one. And she was much more aware of her surroundings. And her body!

  “Enter,” Hugh hollered.

  The dogs hurried to the door with their wagging and whining renewed.

  Tuck appeared...as handsome as before, but was wearing a blue and green kilt this time. It suited him and she nearly ran to his side like one of the dogs.

  This is so confusing! She’d done well these past two years and had easily stifled any stray longings for the occasional good-looking male.

  But Tuck had her rethinking her position on keeping a healthy distance from him. She hadn’t known until this moment that she hadn’t really been tested until now, and resisting all the others had been a frigging ride in the proverbial park!

  She felt swayed a little as she gazed at his legs under the hem of his kilt.

  Staring at him in all his prettiness made her want to throw in the towel…hell, maybe the whole laundry basket! That boy-crazy young woman of her youth wanted to bust free and see where Kilted might take her. For the rest of her life maybe. For some crazy reason, she couldn’t recall any of the past pain.

  The only coherent thought she could conjure up rang through her like a bell, as if being called to the dinner table. She felt ready to run in its direction, pull up a chair, and have her fill.

  This time will be different.

  This time will be different.

  This time will be different.

  7

  Tuck lingered inside the kitchen doorway and catalogued the scene: Sophie putting on oven mitts, Ryn looking uncomfortable and as guarded as before, and Hugh with a stupid grin on his face.

  Yeah, Tuck caught the Laird’s gaze flitting from him to Ryn, as if his glances back and forth were two hummingbirds playing tennis.

  The Laird better not be playing matchmaker. Tuck wasn’t in the mood!

  Rowena and Sinnie bustled into the room and both stopped short. Rowena glowered in silence. Sinnie smiled and pulled a kitchen towel from the rack. “Hello, Tuck.”

  The little sister was much more civil than the older ones.

  He meant to greet her back, but his ‘hello’ came out as a grunt.

  God, he wished he’d bailed on dinner. But Hugh had been firm in his request.

  Sinnie picked up the hot casserole dish. “Why are ye back so soon?” She stopped and waited for his response with the dish held waist-high.

  “Magnus called and needed me to fix the weaving machine.” Tuck left off the part about how the seas had become too choppy anyway to be out alone, which forced him back to Gandiegow.

  Magnus’s mandate to return to Whussendale had turned out to be a blessing, saving Tuck from the town meeting Deydie had called. The village, both men and women, usually met before an upcoming quilt retreat to make sure that everything went off like clockwork. All the fishermen were included, as their muscles were necessary to move the out-of-town quilters’ luggage from the coach to Quilting Central and back again. Or…whatever task Deydie demanded the fishermen do.

  Sophie gestured to the counter. “Everyone grab something and take it into the dining room.”

  Ryn picked up the bread basket and a stack of serving spoons. She held back, which made perfect sense, as the lass wouldn’t know which direction to go.

  Hugh took the salmon and Tuck grabbed the tatties and mashed turnips.

  Like single-file soldiers, they made their way to the dining room, which held a long table capable of handling at least thirty. Only one end tonight was set, making the gathering cozier.

  As Tuck scanned the room, he breathed a sigh of relief. Not until that moment did he realize he’d been holding his breath. Dand was there, taking his seat, but more importantly, Maggie wasn’t. She must be visiting John at the hospital.

  Maybe dinner this evening at Kilheath Castle wouldn’t be as torturous as Tuck had imagined.

  Hugh motioned for Tuck to sit next to Ryn. Once again, Tuck got the feeling the Laird was messing in his business again when he shouldn’t be.

  As Dand reached for the bread, Rowena’s hand shot out and stopped him.

  “Aunt Wena, I’m hungry.”

  “Ye’ll wait for grace.”

  Automatically, the Scots offered their hands to one another. He noticed Ryn seemed momentarily confused. Finally, she slipped her hand in his, applying no more pressure than if her fingers had the force of a butterfly. And Tuck wasn’t having it. He not only gripped her hand, he squeezed also, for good measure. He glanced over and saw a red tint fill her cheeks.

  She may not like him, but at least he hadn’t lost his charm. Ryn stared straight ahead as if she was pretending that he didn’t exist. Strange, the warmth of her cheeks must’ve spread into her hand and straight into his chest. The feeling was foreign, and at the same time, he remembered that feeling and the rush of betrayal that came with it. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go.

  Tuck couldn’t meet her eyes right now, either. But as he lowered his head to pray, the side door to the dining room opened.

  “Wait,” Hugh said. “Maggie’s here.”

  Tuck’s mood plummeted as Maggie came through the door. She seemed distracted, cradling baby Irene as if the child was her life preserver. Which was weird as Tuck was the one who was drowning. In guilt. In uncomfortable awareness. And feeling claustrophobic in the twenty by fifty foot room. It certainly didn’t help when Maggie’s eyes fell on him and an unquestionable disdain washed over her.

  Sinnie scooted back her chair, hurrying to her oldest sister. “I’ll take the little bug.”

  Dand popped up, too, talking while he did, “Hurry, Mum.” He surprised everyone by pulling out the chair for his mother. “I’m hungry.” Irene leaned over from Sinnie’s lap and tried to grab his hair as he sat back down. “I’ll say the grace, if ye want.” Another surprise. But then the boy rushed through the Selkirk grace as if he was on fire and a bucket of water waited at the end of the words.

  “Some Folk hae meat that canna eat,

  And some can eat that want it.

  But we hae meat, and we can eat,

  So let the Lord be Thanket!”

  “Well done,” Hugh said, smiling. Rowena, though, looked at Dand as if she wanted to correct the boy’s haste for which he’d addressed the Almighty.

  Ryn slipped her hand from Tuck’s, a moment before he realized he was still holding her. Instantly, he missed the softness of her fingers as he went sort of empty inside. Maybe he was only missing the warmth of her hand. Both sentiments were ridiculous. He’d only just met the lass.

  Hugh picked up the salmon and passed it to Maggie. “So, Ryn, tell us about yereself. Sinnie says ye’re from Dallas.”

  “And Minnesota.”

  “Two completely different climates, I believe,” Hugh remarked as he passed the tatties around.

  “Yes,” Ryn said. “After growing up in Minnesota, I never really got used to the heat in Texas.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about yere mother,” Hugh said.

  Ryn nodded then stared at her plate. At the same time, Sophie reached over and took her husband’s hand. It was no secret Hugh’s family was all gone—his sister, mother, and father. The only relative he had left was
his Aunt Davinia. Tuck was surprised Hugh’s pushy, but well-meaning aunt, hadn’t come for dinner to see Ryn Breckenridge for herself. It occurred to him that Hugh’s butting-in-nature probably came to him honestly through his aunt.

  “Do ye have any brothers or sisters?” Rowena asked, getting into the spirit of things.

  “None. I’m an only child.” Ryn glanced at Maggie as if she wanted her attention.

  “And yere father—” Hugh asked, “—where does he live?”

  Ryn bit her lip. “I don’t have one.”

  Tuck felt sorry for her. But wasn’t it refreshing to have someone else at the dinner table under the spotlight, instead of him?

  Sophie patted Hugh’s hand. “Let our guest eat. Ye can interrogate her after the apple tarts.”

  Hugh smiled. “Aye. Sorry, Ryn, for being such a boor.”

  Next, Hugh engaged Dand with all the adventures he could get up to on Kilheath’s estate.

  “And I promise I’ll show ye the cabin out in the woods,” Hugh said at the end.

  “Tonight?” Dand asked excitedly.

  “Nay. Ye and I will trek out to see it in the morn.” The Wallace nudged Hugh’s elbow and he laughed. “We’ll bring the dogs along with us.”

  At that, he turned to Tuck. “Will ye take the van back to Gandiegow in the morning for Maggie?”

  Tuck’s first reaction was to stare at Maggie, but then he wondered why the Laird would want him to commute in a petrol-guzzler such as the van, to Gandiegow and back.

  Before Tuck could say anything, Hugh addressed the issue. “Brodie called and said Rachel needs the van to pick up new furniture for Partridge House.” Rachel’s nearly completed B & B. “You drive the van, and—” Hugh paused for a moment, smiling at the American lass, “—Ryn, if ye could follow Tuck to Gandiegow with his car, it would surely help us out.” He nodded toward Dand. “I have a very important appointment in the morning.”

  “What if she doesn’t know how to drive?” Tuck asked.

  Ryn sat up straight, looking indignant. “I have a driver’s license.”