Blame It on Scotland

by Patience Griffin

  After lunch, while Ryn gave the instructions for how to cut the angle correctly for the lightning bolt pieces, Tuck came strolling into the ballroom. He hitched his head at her as if they needed to speak.

  Ryn wanted to run to him—an old habit—but instead, she finished what she was saying before going to the doorway, walking slowly, though she wanted to sprint.

  When they stood nearly toe to toe, he spoke.

  “Lass, I wanted to remind ye that we’re leaving earlier in the morning than we did before. I hope that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure.” She liked her sleep, but Deydie’s command still felt fresh.

  “Good.” He looked around at the quilters and then discreetly slipped a note into her hand. “Read it later,” he said quietly. And then he was gone.

  Ryn went back to the front of the room while the note burned a hole in her had. Her mind raced with questions. What could it mean? A love note? Did he want to meet for a romantic rendezvous?

  “I’ll be right back,” she said to the room. “Bathroom break.” She was barely out the door before she opened the note in her hand.

  Knock on my door, when you get back to the cottage.

  Tuck

  She leaned against the wall. “Well, now I’m more confused than ever.” Her imagination ran wild. She’d knock. He’d pull her into his cottage and pin her against the door with a kiss. A romantic movie would have nothing on them.

  Heated up, Ryn fanned herself with his note. Finally, she went back into the ballroom and tried to stay calm the rest of the afternoon. But it was hard to do with Tuck’s impending kiss and make-out session on her mind.

  For the quilters’ sake, Ryn did her best to cool her jets. She put Tuck on the back burner so she could keep her focus on quilting instead of whatever Tuck had planned for them this evening.

  When Ryn completed her final lesson of the day, and of the retreat, she didn’t have to worry about cleanup. All the Whussendale quilters pitched in and put Kilheath’s ballroom back to normal.

  Sophie handed Ryn her bag. “Ye did a fine job. Mrs. McNabb is making sea bass for supper. Would you like to come to dinner this evening?”

  Ryn should be starving and sea bass sounded great, but…

  “Thank you for the offer,” she said. “But I’m tired.” And anxious to see Tuck. Also, Ryn’s stomach still bothered her. The abdominal pain was so constant now she was starting to believe it would last forever.

  “All right then.” Sophie hugged her. “I can’t thank you enough for stepping in for Maggie. I know she appreciates it.”

  “Oh.” Ryn felt guilty for not thinking of Maggie once today.

  “When ye’re done in Gandiegow, yere cottage here in Whussendale will be waiting for you.”

  “Thank you.” But the thought threw her off even more. Ryn had no idea where her future lay. But tonight, she knew what she was doing. She hurried off to Tuck.

  She rushed back to the horseshoe row of cottages, but didn’t knock on Tuck’s door right away. Instead, she opted for a quick shower, and afterward, she applied fresh makeup. Nervously, she went to Tuck’s and quietly rapped on the heavy oak door.

  When the door opened, he didn’t pull her inside. He didn’t kiss her. What he did give her was a regretful expression, as if he’d poured her a bowl of cereal, but then didn’t have sugar to sprinkle on top, or any milk to go with it, either.

  Ridiculously, Ryn felt too emotional for words. She’d built this up in her mind and had no one to blame but herself. All her expectations deteriorated. Crumbled. And scattered all over the floor.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Over there.” He pointed to a chair in front of the hearth.

  She slipped off her coat and he took it from her like a perfect gentleman. Except, deep inside—her brazened side—she didn’t want him to be a gentleman right now. She wanted him to kiss her passionately, like he’d done before.

  She sat in her designated chair. Tuck, though, pulled his seat farther away, but then sat, too.

  He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, staring at the crackling fire. “I thought we should get things straight before we leave in the morning.” He paused, as if checking with the fire first, before going on. “It’s like this, Ryn. I think ye’re a nice lass and all…”

  She couldn’t believe her dashed expectations could’ve fallen even further. But they did. Like a huge boulder plunging into a lake and quickly sinking to the bottom.

  He frowned. “It’s best for you if I keep a distance.”

  How can it be best for me? That sinking feeling drowned her. She was completely off her rocker. Had she seriously been thinking they were going to have some kind of relationship or something?

  She consoled herself that it was loneliness’ fault. Loneliness had caused her to be irrational. Extremely irrational!

  Mustering up what little self-respect she had left, she stood, putting her hands on her hips. “Fine by me! But let’s be clear about this. What you’re really trying to say is that you want me to keep my distance from you!”

  * * *

  Damn, if she wasn’t smart! Ryn had nailed it. And it was good Tuck had made her mad. Aye, she needed to keep her distance from him, because he, sure as hell, wasn’t strong enough to stay away from her. The truth—his crazy attraction to Ryn was nothing more than his subconscious remembering his puppy love for Elspeth. But it didn’t exactly explain the intensity of how he felt for Ryn or how strongly he wanted to be near her. Day and night.

  This whole debacle was his fault alone and Ryn didn’t deserve any of it. She was a decent lass and he shouldn’t have kissed her. But he couldn’t bring himself to wish it had never happened. He just couldn’t.

  He hung his head, knowing he had to drive the knife deeper. “As I said before, ye’re nice and all, but ye’re not my type.”

  Her eyes snapped to him as if he’d thrown cold water on her. But his American lass had might and strength. Her eyes were on fire, ready to burn him to a crisp, and she’d never been more alluring. A woman like this could definitely hold his attention for more than a moment. Maybe a lifetime.

  “You keep saying I’m not you’re type,” she huffed. “But I don’t believe it. I think I’m exactly your type and this is why you’re doing this.” Determinedly, she walked to her coat on the hook by the door. As she reached for it, she turned back to him. “Who were you thinking about when you kissed me? Was it me or your old flame?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She stared him down as if he was the bastard, he and everyone else knew him to be. “I’m exactly your type, Tuck MacBride. And that’s what scares you.”

  He held his breath and waited for the rest of it. For surely, there was more.

  She raised an eyebrow and then speared him right through the gut. “There’s something you ought to consider, Tuck. I might be your type, but you’re just not mine.”

  14

  Ryn shoved her arms into her coat. “Are we done? I have a lesson plan to tweak for the quilters of Gandiegow.”

  “Aye. We’re done.” He sounded final. And at the same time, he sounded sad, and she wondered if he wanted to take it all back. But she revised that thought. He couldn’t be sad. He was a love ‘em and leave ‘em jerk!

  Ryn held it together—barely—as she turned the doorknob. She couldn’t help but look back at him.

  Tuck stood, as if there was one more thing he had to say.. But he remained silent. She pulled open the door and went outside, proud of herself for taking the high road by not slamming the door behind her. That might show him she cared.

  And pathetically, she wanted him to run after her. But he didn’t. Just as well. He might have seen she was on the verge of tears.

  Damn him.

  She was a dumbass for repeating her past. But even more of a dumbass for ever seeing good in Tuck.

  I told you he’d break your heart. Which was a stupid thought. Her heart wasn’t broken, not even close. He’d bruised her ego, was all. She’d be fine. Sh
e was in Scotland for one reason only—to fulfill her mom’s last request. But with Maggie gone most of the time, and Ryn set to teach the True Colors quilt to the women of Gandiegow, the transfer of the Goodbye quilt would have to wait.

  Tuck had certainly shown his true colors tonight.

  She stomped inside her cottage, more mad at herself than him. “I wonder if Uber comes this far out and would be willing to take me to Gandiegow.” For she wasn’t looking forward to another car ride with Mr. Love-‘em-and-Leave-‘em to the fishing village.

  She changed into her sweats and climbed into bed. Though she was exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. She could’ve blamed her stomach hurting. But more than likely, feeling crappy had to do with her own self-abuse of wanting another gorgeous bastard like Tuck. Over and over, she replayed her argument with him, wishing things had turned out differently. But it was futile and a waste of time. There was nothing she could do to change the outcome. The only thing to do was to brace herself for the morning and seeing Tuck again.

  She closed her eyes and the next thing she heard was Tuck’s alarm clock going off in the cottage next door. She heard him get up. She heard his shower. She wished more than anything she could beg off today and stay in bed…for the rest of her life!

  Instead she crawled out and put herself together—for the women of Gandiegow, and not for Tuck.

  With her bag in hand, filled with the True Colors quilt fabric, and her sewing machine in the other, Ryn walked stoically out of her cottage. Tuck stood there, as she knew he would be. He reached out to take her sewing machine, but she jerked away.

  “I have it.” She stalked to the car and set her things in the backseat.

  While Tuck got behind the wheel, Ryn took her place on the passenger’s side. They left the radio controls untouched as he started the car and drove away.

  The silence was crushing. She couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d rode in the car together. This car ride to Gandiegow wasn’t filled with the congenial conversation as before. Before they’d kissed, Ryn reminded herself, making a note that kissing gorgeous men ruined everything.

  The awkward silence grew along with her underlying hostility. She’d be damned if she was going to speak first and fix what had happened last night. It was his fault, after all. She didn’t look over again to see his set jaw and his dark eyes facing forward. She could feel the stubbornness roiling off of him. Well, Tuck was getting what he deserved—the silent treatment. And she was giving him exactly what he asked for—distance. She needed distance, too, wishing now she’d been the one to suggest it first. Also, wishing she’d handled things differently from the first moment she’d seen him.

  When they got to Gandiegow, Tuck was out of the car and had her sewing machine in hand before she could say I’ve-got-it again.

  He started walking and she hurried to catch up.

  Without looking at her, he began talking. “I’ll take yere machine to Quilting Central and then I’ll walk ye to Deydie’s.” He gazed in her direction. “And I’ll take no argument from you this morning.”

  “I don’t want to bother Deydie. I’ll just stay at Quilting Central.”

  “Ye’ll go to Deydie’s. I’ll feel better if ye do.”

  Ryn grabbed his arm to bring him to a stop. “Do I really care how you feel?”

  Suddenly, pain seared through her abdomen, so much so, she gripped his arm for support to keep from doubling over.

  Tuck set down the machine and laid a hand on her back. “What’s wrong? Are ye all right?”

  She straightened up. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just hungry. Or more likely, you bossing me around is making my stomach hurt.”

  “Ye’re going to Deydie’s. No argument.” He picked up the sewing machine and her bag, leaving her nothing to carry as he motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  “I don’t like being told what to do.” But she was grateful he was carrying her things. She promised herself she’d do a better job of taking care of herself…more sleep and eat better. That’s what she needed to fix her stomach issue.

  “I can tell you don’t like being bossed around.”

  “And yet, you insist on taking me to Deydie’s.”

  “Och, I feel terrible about that.” He grinned and the tension broke a little. The light from the lamp post caught the laughter in his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks.

  And damn, if she didn’t feel drawn in again. “I can see you’re all broke up over it.”

  When Deydie opened her cottage door, her rheumy eyes took in everything. Ryn wished she could’ve stopped Tuck from putting his hand on her back and guiding her in.

  When they were all the way inside, Tuck must’ve realized what he’d done, because he shoved the offending hand in his pocket. “The lass isn’t feeling well. Can ye feed her?” Tuck looked at Ryn with real concern.

  She stepped away from him. “I’m fine. I just had a little cramp on the way over here. Probably because I got up so early.” She felt proud of her excuse.

  Tuck didn’t argue, but said his goodbyes and disappeared out the door.

  “Hot tea is in the pot. Porridge is warm on the stove.” Deydie shuffled to the fabric on the table. “If ye want eggs and bangers, ye can make them for the both of us.”

  The thought of food made Ryn more nauseous. “I’ll just have some tea.”

  Deydie eyed her. “I know yere problem. Lovesick. Ye need to be careful with that lad. I saw how he was looking at ye. And ye at him. Ye better stop the shenanigans with that one right now. Cow-eyes have gotten more than one maid with child.”

  Ryn had been pregnant once and would never be again. “There are no shenanigans or cow-eyes.” But that wasn’t exactly the truth. She had to keep reminding herself that Tuck had flat out rejected her last night. “Believe me. Nothing is going on.” With her hand shaking, she poured herself a cup of tea.

  “I’m going up to the Big House. Go lie down on the bed over there until I get back. If ye argue about it, my broom will find yere backside.”

  The lone bed with the blue and brown Flying Geese quilt on top looked inviting. “Well, if you’re going to force me, I will.”

  Deydie grabbed her basket by the door, flipped off the light switch, and exited. Ryn appreciated the glowing embers in the hearth, a welcome nightlight. She hung her coat up and with some trepidation, slid under the quilt. It was so cozy she instantly fell fast asleep.

  An hour later, Ryn woke as Deydie made her way through the door. Ryn scooted off the bed and righted the quilt, feeling embarrassed to have slept so soundly in the old woman’s bed. The good news was she did feel a little better.

  “All rested?” Deydie asked. “Ye better be. ’Tis time to go to Quilting Central.”

  Ryn gathered her things and followed Deydie out. As they walked to Quilting Central, Ryn realized she knew nothing about the group she would be teaching today, or Deydie’s expectations. “How many are attending the class?”

  “Retreat,” Deydie corrected. “I expect there will be fifteen or so. My ladies have been working hard, taking care of other retreat goers. I thought they were due a retreat of their own.”

  “Will I be doing a short retreat, like in Whussendale?”

  “Depends,” Deydie said.

  Did that mean the old woman might kick her out at the end of the day? “I was just wondering since I only brought clothes for just a couple of days.”

  In response, Deydie only grunted as she opened the door to Quilting Central. “Give me yere pattern and I’ll make copies while ye get yere quilt up on the front wall.”

  Ryn dug out the pattern and went to the front to do as she was told. Her nerves were running high, which made her stomach ache return.

  And it didn’t help that Deydie was wrong about the number of women who were coming today. As the quilters began filing in at 8:30, Ryn started counting. She was already up to thirty-one and not everyone was in the door yet.

  Bethia sidled up to Ryn and laid a gentle hand on her ar
m. “Don’t worry, lass. Everyone is a mite curious. We have more than Gandiegow here. I see a van-full has come from Spalding Farm to see the Modern quilter.”

  Ryn’s stomach churned and she thought she might vomit.

  Deydie made her way up on the stage. “Take yere places everyone.” She scanned the room and frowned. “For those of ye that didn’t sign up beforehand, make sure to add yere lunch order to the paper on the counter over there. Also, remember to pay Moira. Moira raise yere hand.”

  Andrew’s wife shyly raised her hand as all heads turned to look at her.

  “Before I get Ryn up here, for those that need it, Amy has all the solid fabric kits to make Ryn’s True Colors quilt. Make sure to pay Moira for that, too.”

  A few women got up and went over to the table, but the majority stayed in their chairs.

  “Ryn, get up here and explain what a Modern quilt is.”

  As she walked up, several women nodded and she recognized a few of them from her first visit to Gandiegow. But mostly, the crowd was new and did indeed seem curious.

  At that moment, the bell above the door jingled as Cait entered. Surprisingly, her belly had grown bigger in just a few days! She waved to the room. “Sorry I’m late.” She seemed to make a point of smiling at Ryn as well.

  Ryn’s fears eased at seeing her new friend. She started the retreat, giving them the same spiel about Modern quilting she’d given to the Whussendale group. After that, she moved straight to the initial directions and everyone got to work. But as the blocks went up on the wall, they weren’t the solid fabrics which were in Deydie’s kits or the ones displayed in Ryn’s quilt. Yes, there were a few solid background fabrics, but the majority of the blocks were filled with tartan fabrics!

  Deydie must’ve noticed it at the same time and she shuffled over to Ryn, grinning. She pounded her on the back. “Me quilters have put their own touch on yere True Colors quilt. Some of them think it ain’t quilting unless there’s tartan in it.”