The Lass Who Lost a Shoe (Highlander Ever After Book 1)

by Caroline Lee

  It was a little odd to realize his hand was shaking slightly as he reached reverently for it. He held it beside the cylinder and realized they were identical. She was turning heels for fancy ladies’ slippers. The completed shoe in his hand was red, and the metal of the heel was burnished to a shine and engraved with a delicate design of gears.

  It was identical to the shoe he’d hidden upstairs in his office.

  “You made this?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “Aye. Do ye like it? Do ye think yer boss would be interested in manufacturing them?”

  Andrew Prince likely wouldn’t care one way or the other, but Max didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm. “I think it’s amazing. Women wear these sorts of things?”

  “Aye, of course. Women’s fashion—especially among the wealthy—is all about showing off. When we wore these to the ball last week, they caused quite a sensation. My sisters already have ladies clamoring for their own pair.”

  When we wore these to the ball.

  Ember had been at the ball.

  Max stared at her, his pulse hammering in his ears, suddenly understanding why her hair had tugged at his memory. He’d seen it before, loose and curly, and hanging down her back. Her back, encased in a white gown unlike any he’d ever seen before, and which had been decorated in a delicate design of gears and machinery, which has also matched the ornate mask she’d worn over her eyes.

  Ember was the lady in white from the ball!

  She wasn’t a serving lass at all, was she?

  Chapter 6

  “Oh! Oh, that was just delightful, eh?”

  “I am mortified you lot used the ball to spy on something so intimate.”

  “Oh, come off it, Evangeline. It was important to move the story along, was it no’? Besides, it was a nice kiss.”

  “Nice, Broca? It was perfect.”

  “Grisel, stop encouraging her. And I’ve noticed the story still isn’t on track, sisters.”

  “I think… I think things are working out though.”

  “What do you mean, Willa dear?”

  “Well…Max—I mean, Mr. DeVille—has learned who Ember is, right? So now Ember just has to figure out who he is, and that should push them together…”

  “Did ye have a big luncheon then?” Ember grunted as she yanked Vanessa’s corset ties. “There’s nae way I’ll fit ye into—”

  “Tighter! Less talking, more pulling,” gasped Vanessa.

  At her own dressing table, Bonnie tsked. “There’s nae need to torture yerself, Vanessa. Ye’re lovely just as ye are, and yer waist is small enough.”

  “Nay!” Vanessa was gripping her bedpost. “I have to look my best for my charming Prince, and ye ken that means my lavender tea dress.”

  “Ye had that made two years ago,” Ember reminded her.

  “Are ye saying I’ve gained weight since then?”

  Ember exchanged an amused glance with Bonnie in the mirror, then one side of her lips curled wryly. “I’m saying yer tits are bigger, Vanessa.”

  “Oh. Well.” Her stepsister blushed. “Thank ye.”

  “Ye’re welcome. Are ye certain ye’ll no’ wear something else?”

  Bonnie turned in her chair. “The pale blue one is perfect for yer coloring, Vanessa.”

  Their sister preened. “It is, is it no’? Fine, I’ll wear that one. And I’ll be able to breathe. Fetch it please, Ember.”

  Ember sunk into a deep curtsey. “I live to serve, milady.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  When Vanessa stuck her tongue out, Ember chuckled and rose, heading for the wardrobe. “Ye’re still certain the man ye danced with at the ball was Roland Prince?”

  “Aye!” Vanessa sounded excited as she settled her corset more comfortably. “I asked Mrs. Oliphant to ask Mrs. Oliphant at Newfincy Castle—ye ken they’re sisters—and she spoke with Mrs. Oliphant the housekeeper, who said Roland had been in Inverness for the week at his father’s behest, but he’s home now.”

  “And the verra first thing he did was request permission to call on us for tea,” Bonnie finished with a smile. “He must certainly have an eye for ye, sister.”

  Vanessa patted her coiffure. “And who wouldnae, after all? If he offers to take me for a walk, Bonnie, ye must be our chaperone!”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because I trust ye to bring a book and be completely distracted.”

  “She’s right,” Ember called, as she pulled the blue gown from the wardrobe. “Ye’d be the perfect chaperone if Vanessa’s planning shenanigans.”

  Bonnie gasped. “Are ye planning shenanigans? Are ye going to let him kiss ye?”

  “Why no’?” Vanessa lifted her chin proudly. “He’s the most handsome man on Oliphant Land, and I’m the most beautiful woman. Why would he no’ want to kiss me? Maybe I’ll kiss him!”

  “Oh, Vanessa,” Bonnie tsked, but Ember couldn’t tell if it was because she was shocked or because she disapproved.

  Carrying the tea gown, Ember stepped up beside Vanessa. “Arms up.” As she helped her sister dress, she said casually, “Ye ken, if ye think ye might have a future with Roland, kissing him now might be a good idea.”

  “What do ye mean?” Vanessa called, spitting out a mouthful of lace.

  Ember shrugged as she pulled the skirts straight over her sister’s petticoats. “I just mean, it’d be good to ken now if ye have that spark, that attraction. It’s important—”

  “Ember Oliphant.” Vanessa spun out of her reach; her eyes bright with excitement. “Have ye experienced that spark with someone? Ye speak as if ye ken what ye’re talking about.”

  Refusing to be embarrassed, Ember lifted her chin and shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe.”

  Bonnie gasped again. “Who is he?”

  There was no need to lie. “Just a man. A guest.”

  “Oh, Ember.” Vanessa sighed, clasping her hand to her chest. “Is he handsome? Is he a good kisser? Are ye in love with him? Will ye marry him and let him sweep ye away from Mother and the inn and all this drudgery?”

  Will ye marry him?

  Ember hadn’t realized it, but that was what she’d been considering, wasn’t it? Even before she’d kissed him she’d been thinking about a future with him. Which was silly because she’d barely known him, still didn’t really.

  But seeing the plans for his modest, cozy home, she could picture herself sitting there in the parlor with him. When he laughed, she wanted to make him laugh for years to come. When he expressed interest in her, she knew he’d support her dreams.

  Ye cannae marry the man. Ye dinnae even ken his last name!

  But after that kiss, she felt as if she knew the important things about Max.

  Then why did he hand the shoe back to ye and leave?

  Ah. A harder question.

  Ember swallowed, her fingers twining through one another as she considered the kiss last night at Oliphant Engraving. Nay—it wasn’t the kiss, it was what came after.

  It was when she was telling him about her shoes and asking for his help in presenting the idea to Mr. DeVille. He’d completely shut down, handed the shoe back to her, stammered out an excuse, then hurried up the stairs.

  She’d been mortified. Had she acted too boldly or something? Should she be ashamed of her actions, of the way she’d thrown herself into his arms?

  On the verge of tears, she had gathered up her tools, put the shoe in her bag, along with the three heels she’d already turned, then hurried out of the building. All night, she’d tossed and turned, torn between joy at his kisses—his touches—and confusion and hurt at his response to her project.

  “Ember?” Bonnie prompted softly. “Do ye want to marry him?”

  “I want…to be free to make my own choices.” Ember’s voice grew stronger as she realized the truth. “I want autonomy, not this life.”

  A week ago, she’d known exactly what she wanted. She’d wanted to sell the new manager of Oliphant Engraving on her design and convince him to start prod
uction. That money would allow her to leave the inn guilt-free and start a simple life somewhere of her own choosing. She’d be leaving her father’s workshop, but his tools belonged to her, and she could create her art in another location if Mr. DeVille wouldn’t allow her to work in the engravers’ studio.

  Aye, she’d known exactly what she’d wanted.

  But then she’d danced at a ball with the guest of honor and had been the center of attention. She’d spoken with Max, had kissed Max, and more. He’d made her heart beat faster and made her reconsider her plans for the future, and now she wasn’t certain of anything.

  “Could this man of yers be part of that autonomy?” Vanessa teased, winking.

  Slowly, Ember nodded. She’d like Max to be a part of her future, but she wasn’t certain if he wanted that, not after the way he’d reacted the previous night.

  “Good.” Vanessa nodded once, firmly, then spun around and offered her back to Ember. “Ye deserve happiness. Now button me.”

  “Of course, Yer Majesty.”

  As Ember focused on the buttons, her stepsister laughed. “Dinnae be silly. Roland is a Prince, no’ a king.”

  “Actually, I think he’s a viscount,” Bonnie said distractedly, tapping her finger against her dressing table. “Yes, I read that somewhere.”

  “Of course ye did,” muttered Vanessa.

  “It was a special case, which is why the heir doesnae have a title. What was it?” Bonnie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Oh, I remember. Yer Roland, and his younger brother Phineas, are sons of the laird’s second wife, aye? Her father was a Viscount, so the title passed to her eldest son.”

  “A viscount…” sighed Vanessa.

  “Aye, Viscount Something-or-other. Ye ken how ridiculous these titles are; they all sound the same.”

  Ember had to agree with Bonnie. “Viscount Sandringtonshiresauce or Lord Meglandonkington or Earl of Pastyburgham. I dinnae ken how anyone can keep them straight.” She frowned as she reached the lower curve of her stepsister’s back and the buttons got more difficult. “Remember how ye tried to teach me all that nonsense yer mother made ye study? How to address an earl’s second daughter, or which person has to speak first when ye meet someone of a higher rank, or what have ye. How do ye keep that all straight?”

  “Oh, I ken it!” Bonnie burst out with a chuckle. “And ye remember Mother explaining how, once we’re married, we needed to call our husbands by their titles, rather than their names? Can ye imagine yelling, ‘Oh, Pastyburgham!’ in bed?”

  Ember straightened, laughing. “Ye could probably shorten it to ‘Oh, Pasty!’”

  “That’s even worse!”

  Vanessa waved her hands about. “Remember, she told us she always referred to Father by his title?”

  “Which was ‘Oliphant!’ ” Bonnie clamped her palms over her mouth, to dampen her chortles.

  “And she didnae see anything strange about calling him Oliphant,” Ember asked, “when everyone else around here was also named Oliphant?”

  “Exactly!” Vanessa sighed in exasperation. “I have nae intention of calling my Roland ‘Viscount Blah-blah-blah’ in bed.”

  “That’s good,” Ember said dryly, “because ye’d be Viscountess Blah-blah-blah then, and that’d be awkward.”

  “A viscountess,” her sister sighed happily.

  Ember shook her head as she checked Vanessa’s skirts. “I cannae believe ye’re already considering marrying the man. He hasnae even been here for tea yet!”

  “Ye havenae kissed him yet,” Bonnie pointed out.

  “I dinnae need to kiss him to ken we’ll be perfect together.” Vanessa lifted her chin proudly. “After all, I’m beautiful, and he’s a viscount.”

  Ember pressed her lips together, refusing to point out—yet again—her sister’s pride would be her downfall. Besides, she did want Vanessa to be happy, and if that meant marrying Roland—a viscount—then good for her. Ember just knew she didn’t need that kind of title to be happy.

  At the ball, she’d danced with the guest of honor, Mr. DeVille, who’d been nearly as fancy as one of the Princes. He’d certainly danced as though he’d belonged at the ball, and Laird Oliphant himself had introduced him.

  Aye, he might not be titled, but he held a position of power and he was important, and she’d danced with him.

  But it was Max who had captured her imagination and passion and interest. It was Max who made her daydream about a future in his little house while she dusted the upstairs parlor. It was Max she’d all-but-attacked last night, desperate to feel his hands on her skin and taste his lips.

  Bonnie had taken up the gauntlet of arguing with Vanessa during Ember’s silence while she’d been lost in her thoughts. “Sister, being a viscountess is not the goal in life, remember.”

  Vanessa hummed as she stepped away from Ember and in front of the mirror. “And what is then? Being a countess? A duchess? A princess?”

  “Being happy is the goal in life, Yer Grace,” Bonnie said with a touch of sarcasm. “Try to remember that.”

  “Marrying a viscount will make me happy, I’m certain.”

  “Ye dinnae even ken him,” Bonnie argued. “Ye dinnae ken if ye can love him. Love is what will make ye happy.”

  Love?

  Did…did Ember love Max?

  Good heavens.

  Vanessa was scoffing. “Love is well and good, dinnae fash, but being called lady, and going to balls like the one last week—no’ just on Oliphant Land, but all across Scotland!—and having other women look at me enviously…? That will make me happy. Oh, Ember, fetch the shoes ye made me, aye? I ken they dinnae match exactly, but they make a statement.”

  Ember’s eyes lit up. “And yer Roland is close with Mr. DeVille so maybe he’ll mention them!”

  “Aye!” Vanessa clapped in excitement. “I’ll be certain to bring up the topic, just for ye. We’ll have Mr. DeVille agreeing to manufacture yer shoes in nae time, and then ye can start engraving full time!”

  Ember hadn’t told her sister that the man she’d kissed—the man she might be falling in love with; the man who’d kissed her back, then acted horrified by it— was one of Mr. DeVille’s employees. He was likely a clerk of some sort, but he could help her gain the manager’s ear.

  Assuming he still wanted to help her after whatever had passed between them last night.

  As she knelt at Vanessa’s feet to help her into the heeled slippers, she heard Machara calling for her from down the corridor. She’d have to go help her stepmother get dressed, she assumed, but then she planned on heading to Papa’s workshop for an hour or two to start engraving the heels she’d turned yesterday. Designs were already flitting through her head, and she was excited to try to capture them. Surely tea with Viscount Blah-blah-blah would take long enough she could enjoy herself for a bit.

  Bonnie had stood and was finishing her dressing as well—luckily able to handle it on her own. “I just think, Vanessa, ye dinnae understand what it truly means to be happy. Say ye marry Roland. Ye’ve already said ye dinnae want to call him Blah-blah-blah in bed. But from the way ye speak, it’s his title ye’d be marrying. Ye are no’ thinking of him as a man, or even as a person.” This normally quiet sister of theirs was becoming agitated. Her fists were planted on her hips, and her cheeks were flushed. “If I marry, I’m no’ going to yell, ‘Aye, milord!’ in bed. I want to call him—I dinnae ken—Lionel, or—or—”

  Vanessa gasped, spinning around to face her sister so quickly, she almost knocked Ember over. “Bonnibelle Oliphant, the heir’s name is Lyon! Is that who ye’ve been secretly dreaming about marrying?” When her sister began shaking her head, Vanessa pressed her. “Lionel is verra close to Lyon, and neither are particularly common!”

  Flustered, Bonnie held her hands out in front of her, palms out. “I dinnae mean it like that. It was just a name I pulled from—”

  “From yer imagination? Or from yer daydreams?”

  Bonnie shook her head so wildly, her coiffure was in dang
er. “Nay! Nay, I just—it was just a name!”

  From down the hall, Machara called again. “Ember, ye lazy girl, get in here!”

  Her sisters didn’t seem to notice, but Ember sighed and accepted she’d better go help her stepmother or deal with her fury. “I’ll just be going then,” she murmured. She was ignored, as she’d expected.

  “Ye expect me to believe, of all the names ye could’ve pulled out of thin air to yell in bed, Lionel was an accident?”

  “Lionel is a verra common name,” Bonnie defended.

  “Lyon is no’!”

  And this time, Machara’s call was a screech. “Ember!”

  And so Ember slipped out of the room, leaving Vanessa haranguing poor Bonnie, and went to tend to her stepmother. Hopefully, once Roland arrived for tea, the three of them would be so occupied fawning over him, Ember would have a little peace and quiet.

  Chapter 7

  “Here we go, dearies. This is it. Any moment now, Ember is going to figure out who Mr. DeVille really is, right?”

  “Or who Max really is, I suppose.”

  “Rasher beanstit f’rday!”

  “Go make some tea, Grisel. Seonag needs it.”

  His house was complete. He could move out of the inn and into his own home as early as today if he wanted to.

  Max stared down at the hastily scrawled note from the lead builder, updating the charges. Thanks to Andrew Prince’s generosity, Max would have no issues paying for his own home, and he could spend his first night there tonight.

  But did he want to move out of the inn just yet? Staying at the inn was his best opportunity for seeing Ember.

  Ember the serving lass? Or Ember the lady?

  Last night, when he’d realized who she really was, Max had felt as if his brain had shut down. He’d come so close to making love to her, right there in Oliphant Engraving, and it had been because he’d really felt as if he’d known her. Despite their few interactions, there was something about Ember which had just clicked with him—a sort of spark of recognitions, as if two souls had been meant to be together.