“I was in the orangery. Is he in there?”
“Yes,” Rose replied, aware her voice trembled. “Oh dear.”
Miss Taylor peered at Rose and Rose bit her lip. Had she given away her…no, they could not be feelings. Her whatever they were toward the laird to the housekeeper. Her mild interest. Yes, that’s what it was. He was simply someone new and different, and she was curious. Besides, she would not wish death on her enemy—not that she had any. One had to know people to have enemies.
So, there it was. Her fear for him was entirely warranted and natural.
“I am sure all will be well,” Aunt May said brightly.
“Aunt May, our house could burn down!”
“Nonsense, dear. It’s just a little smoke.”
Rose huffed out a breath. How could her aunt by so blithely unaware of the danger the laird and Mrs. Shaw were in?
A figure emerged from the smoke.
“Mrs. Shaw!” Rose dashed over to the entranceway.
Her face was blackened with smoke and her white apron covered in black smudges. The laird followed her out and uncovered his mouth. Mrs. Shaw gave a delicate cough but seemed otherwise unharmed.
Hamish waved a hand at the gardener. “Just a small oven fire. Nothing to be concerned about.” He turned his attention to Rose and her aunt. “Looks as though ye willnae be eating yer freshly baked bread today though.”
“All that smoke was from burnt bread?” Rose asked.
“Aye, seems that way. Give it an hour or so and the smoke will clear. There’s no danger, but I fear the smoke will linger in the house for a wee while.”
Aunt May gave a smile that was far too odd for Rose’s liking, as though she was quite pleased Mrs. Shaw had nearly burned the house down.
“I am sorry for the disturbance, my laird, but not to worry. We shall have the house aired soon enough. At least it is a dry day. My niece and I shall spend time in the garden.”
Rose noted her aunt did not offer Hamish an invitation to stay.
“Of course. Ye enjoy yer afternoon, ladies. I shall return in a few days. I’d very much like to offer ye an invitation to dinner once I have everything in hand at the castle.”
“We shall see,” Aunt May said vaguely. “Good day to you, my laird.”
Instead of looking affronted by Aunt May’s rather rude dismissal, he merely seemed amused. Rose scrabbled to save the situation.
“I am sure we would be delighted.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Would ye indeed? I’ll look forward to it then. Good day, Mrs. Merriweather, Miss Merriweather.” He bowed and they dipped.
She could not help but watch him confidently swagger down the garden path toward the route through the woods. He must have asked about them to discover where they lived. Did he know the tales of their reclusiveness? Did he think them mad?
“Aunt May, did you not like the laird? You were not at all your usual self.”
Her aunt shrugged. “I liked him well enough, but he is a bit rough. I’m certainly not used to having a highlander in my house.”
“We should be honored he asked us to dinner.”
“And we can be honored, my dear, but we cannot accept. Whilst your highlander friend might have few airs and graces, everyone else in attendance will, and you know we have no place dining with them.”
Rose sighed. She should not care for people who thought them beneath them, but she could not help but be curious. What would it be like to be at dinner with all these grand people? Listening to them converse and watching them dance? She would dearly love to experience it.
Once Hamish had vanished out of sight, Miss Taylor approached. “Mrs. Merriweather, will you look over the menus for the week with me? I need to let the delivery boy know what we need.”
Aunt May nodded. “Of course.” She glanced at the house as tendrils of smoke still seeped from the door. “We had better do it in the garden.”
Rose grimaced. The house would smell of smoke for weeks. It was odd because she could not remember Mrs. Shaw ever burning anything.
“I shall just rescue my menus, Mrs. Merriweather. I’ll be but a moment.”
“Perhaps you can read in the garden, Rose,” her aunt suggested. “It is a little breezy but far better than sitting inside the house at present.”
“Yes, I suppose I shall.”
Rose followed the housekeeper in. The acrid scent of smoke lingered in the air. Miss Taylor turned, making Rose pause.
“Why do you not see if you can catch up with the laird? Perhaps offer him an apology?”
Rose frowned. “Aunt May will be furious. She doesn’t like him for some reason.”
“She is merely being protective.” Miss Taylor squeezed her hand. “She has yet to realize you are a grown woman, Rose, and you need to discover the world.”
“I hardly think running after a highlander is discovering the world.”
“No, but it’s a start.”
She considered this. Why she wanted to see him again, she did not know, but she was not keen on leaving things as they were. Perhaps it would be a good idea to run after him and apologize for her aunt’s behavior and the disaster that occurred today.
“Will you keep Aunt May busy?”
Miss Taylor offered a secretive smile. “That was my plan.”
Rose beamed at her. “Thank you!”
“Hurry up, now. He’s got long, strong legs. You’ll need to be fast to catch up with him.”
Rose tried not to think too hard about those long, strong legs as she hastened down the path and into the forest.
Chapter Six
It was hard to keep the smile from his face as Hamish considered Rose’s stumbled apology for her aunt. That’s what it had been—a desperate apology. Interesting how she had been keen to make up for her aunt’s cold behavior. After all, she had been happy to see the back of him a few days ago. This time, however, she had been civil. But there was more to it than that. She had met his gaze with bright interest. When he had looked at her, she’d blushed but she had held his gaze. That bright zing of sensation he had felt when he’d touched her seemed to linger in the air between them.
He brushed a tree branch aside and continued along the forest path at a leisurely pace. His plan was to visit again in a few days. Hopefully there would be no more disasters. Either the cook was a terrible one or something strange had been going on. From what he had gathered so far, most aunts and mothers were keen for the nieces and daughters to meet him—after all, he was now a laird—but this Aunt May, however, was entirely different. He had the sneaking suspicion the burnt bread had been deliberate. It would have been very hard to create so much smoke without intention.
So why was this aunt so keen on keeping him away from her niece? Did he think he would scandalize her? He would have to do his best to prove he was not just a rough highlander.
“Hamish!”
His heart came to a standstill. Was he hearing things?”
“Hamish! I mean.…my laird…”
He turned and his grin expanded. Rose barreled toward him, her hair still wild and streaks of dirt on her gown. He wondered if she had realized there were streaks upon her cheek and forehead too. She could have no idea how much he longed to lean forward during his audience with her and her aunt and wipe the dirty marks away with this thumb.
“Hamish is just fine.”
She sucked in a breath. Clearly she had run after him. He could not help but be flattered she had run all this way to catch up with him.
“Is all well?”
“Yes, of course,” she said breathily. “I just…I wanted to apologize for my aunt’s behavior. We are not used to visitors.”
“Och, I dinnae mind. I’m no’ that used to paying visits myself.” He motioned back in the direction of her house. “Should I walk ye back?”
She shook her head. “My aunt is occupied and I have little intention of returning to the house just yet.” She giggled. “It’s not exactly pleasant.”
> He chuckled. “Indeed.”
“It was…” She coughed. “It was very kind of you to pay us a visit.”
He shrugged. “As I said, yer my neighbors. It seemed the thing to do.”
“How did you find us?”
“I asked around. It wasnae hard to discover where the pretty fair-haired lass was.”
Color spread up her face. She looked to the ground.
“I’ll admit I was curious about the lass who had given me a telling off for being on my own land.”
The heat in her cheeks fairly burned. “I did not know who you were. You caught me off guard,” she protested.
“Aye, as did ye,” he said softly. “Well, I am glad to make yer acquaintance properly, anyway.”
“And I.”
“I had intended to invite ye and yer aunt to dinner at the castle before yer cook decided to burn the house down.”
She frowned. “Yes, that was very unlike Mrs. Shaw. She’s normally so careful.” She peered at him. “You want us to come to dinner?”
“Of course. As I said, I dinnae know many people around here and as a main landholder, it’s my duty to get to know the local families.”
“I’m not sure many think of us when they think of the local families. If you asked about us, you probably know we are considered…well…”
“Reclusive?”
“Yes.”
He would not mention that a few people had embellished their tales when he had spoken with the villagers about them. Some said her aunt was simply mad. Others had said Rose was a lost princess, tucked away in the woods for her own protection. Someone else had inferred the aunt had rescued Rose from a murderous father who had killed her mother and run away to Scotland. None were particularly plausible, but he liked the idea of her being a hidden-away princess. She would make a good one, he decided.
“My aunt is protective,” she explained. “She is normally such a lovely woman and I am endlessly grateful to her, but I imagine she saw you as a threat.”
“I cannae blame her. I would be protective of ye if ye were my niece too, and I dinnae exactly look like a gentleman.”
“No,” she agreed.
He didn’t think to take insult at that. Not when she glanced him over and the stain on her cheeks darkened. Was he a fool for thinking her dislike of him had travelled the same journey that his own feelings had? That she was wildly curious about him and wanted to get to know him more? The fact that she had come after him gave him hope.
“Have ye lived with yer aunt long?”
“Since I was a baby. My parents died in a carriage accident only a few days after I was born. Apparently I was thrown clear or something, so I survived. She moved her household here, mostly because it was too painful for her to stay I think.”
“A blessing indeed, though I am sorry for your loss.”
“I feel sad about it but I never knew them, so it is hard to feel a loss. Aunt May has been wonderful to me and I have lived a blessed life.”
“She must be a remarkable woman.” He held aside a branch, and he had to admit to standing closer than he needed to when she brushed past. The subtle scent of soap teased him, and he ran his gaze down her figure. A tiny tremor, barely noticeable, ran through her body.
But he noticed it. He noticed everything about her.
“Aunt May has the biggest heart. And of course, Mrs. Shaw and Miss Taylor have done their part in helping raise me. I think myself lucky to be surrounded by such loving women.”
He nodded. “Ye are indeed.”
She turned her gaze on him, and he had to wonder why he’d ever thought her eyes anything other than beautiful. Her gaze seemed to reach down inside him and tug at his heart.
“What of your family? Do you have any that will come to live with you at the castle?”
“My father died in battle, and my mother died a few years ago. A few scattered family members are all I have left.”
“I am sorry.”
“Dinnae be. I am well-used to being alone.”
“You mentioned you were a soldier.”
“Aye.” He plucked a leaf from a nearby tree and began to pick it apart. “Had I not inherited the lairdship, I would have continued fighting.”
“Do you miss the fighting?”
“In a way.” He gave her a tilted smile and flung the leaf away. “Does that seem strange to ye?”
“Not at all. If it is all you have known for some time, it can be hard to have your life change so quickly.”
He peered at her. “Yer a canny lass.”
Rose laughed. “I am not so sure about that.”
They stopped at the edge of the forest. Whether she was as aware they were about to step onto his land as he, he didn’t know, but it felt like an immense weight crushing down upon him. Yet it was not wholly unpleasant. It made his heart quicken and his breath fast.
“I should probably return before my aunt misses me.”
He looked toward the sloping roof of the castle, just visible over the brow of the hill. “Aye. Are ye sure I cannae walk ye home?”
“No, but thank you.”
She looked up at him, some question in her eye. What next, perhaps. Or when will I see you again? Those were the questions rolling around in his mind.
“I shall call on ye again soon. I must begin to organize the work at the castle but I shall come by, I swear.”
Her smile expanded. His heart stretched. This woman could never lie or hide her feelings. They were written far too clearly on her face. She wanted him to come and visit again.
“I—my aunt and I will look forward to it. Hopefully the smoke will have dispersed by then.”
“I hope so.” He dipped his head. “Good day, Miss Merriweather.”
“Good day, my laird.” She dipped and turned away. He would watch her until she vanished into the woods, greedy to see her for as long as he could.
Her foot caught on a branch as she turned, and he grabbed her arm to steady her. She let loose a startled sound and before he had quite understood what he had done, he had her in his arms.
“Rose,” he murmured, looking down into those eyes that held him spellbound.
Her lips were parted, her gaze searching his. He was powerless to do anything other than drop his head and brush his lips gently over hers. His heart thrashed so wildly in his chest, he feared it might burst. She gave the tiniest sigh and when he drew back, her eyes were still closed.
He held her until she opened her eyes and her soft gaze was enough to have him grinning foolishly at her.
“I had better return.”
He nodded and released her. “I shall see you soon.”
Her answering grin before she vanished into the woods was enough for him. He knew well enough that she too would be thinking of that kiss every day until they met again.
Chapter Seven
“Are you humming again?” Mrs. Shaw asked as she pummeled the dough into submission.
Rose glanced up from glazing the pastries. “I did not think so.”
“You were. I never took you for a hummer.”
She had never been, not until recently. Not until after that kiss. Three days had passed and there had not been a single morning when she hadn’t woken up and recalled it. It had been the briefest brush of his lips against hers and it had been…well, perfect.
Underneath that steely highland exterior was a caring man, she was sure of it. Not that she minded the exterior. He was utterly unlike every gentleman she had ever read about or briefly met. There was no pretense. Hamish McTavish was a rough, tough soldier with a good, solid heart. She suspected he would do very well as a laird, particularly if the gardener’s praise of him was correct. Apparently many of the tenant farmers were quite pleased to have a man who was willing to listen to them and break bread with them in charge.
Not to mention his heroic act of going into the house to rescue Mrs. Shaw.
The cook still would not talk about that day. Rose supposed she was embarrassed about bur
ning the bread, but surely she had to admire the way Hamish ran into the building to find her.
Miss Taylor’s footsteps echoed on the servant’s staircase, and she entered the kitchen and paused. “She’s humming again.”
“I just told her as much,” the cook replied.
Rose hoped she wasn’t blushing. When she glanced at the housekeeper, she noted her knowing smile. Miss Taylor would likely approve of a budding romance between her and Hamish. She had asked her if she had managed to catch up with him and had nodded approvingly when Rose had told her Hamish would call on them and ask them to dinner.
But would Aunt May agree? If Rose even mentioned the laird, her aunt changed the subject. Was it simply his rough exterior that was the problem or something else? Did she really not trust her niece to make the right decision regarding him?
Not that Rose was sure of the right decision, but all she knew was that she had to see him again.
“Miss Rose…” Mrs. Shaw started, drawing her attention to the pastry in front of her.
“Oh.” Rose had been brushing on the yolks so absently that she had soaked the dough and it had lost its shape. “Oh dear. Sorry, Mrs. Shaw.”
“You are terribly absentminded, Miss Rose. Is there something worrying you?”
“Not at all. I promise.”
Miss Taylor bustled past them. “Our Miss Rose is right as rain, are you not?”
“Of course I am.”
There was clatter from upstairs. “Sounds like your aunt has returned.”
“I will be but a moment. I hope she has the book I requested.”
“More Highland history?” Miss Taylor asked, her voice utterly devoid of anything mischievous but her eyes glinted. Surely Rose was blushing by now?
Removing her apron, she washed her hands and followed the housekeeper upstairs. When they entered the entrance hall, Rose came to a standstill. The breath vanished from her, along with perhaps a lot of her blood, which dropped down to her toes. She felt a little faint.
Her aunt beamed up at Hamish, who had her arm tucked through his.
“Mrs. Merriweather?” the housekeeper said.
A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 63