A Good Scot is Hard to Find (Something About a Highlander Book 2)

by Angeline Fortin

  He’d met many a philosopher in his life who couldn’t match her for pure gobbledygook.

  Nor could many match her on any front.

  Aside from the hours when Effie’s illness consumed his thoughts, his thoughts would drift back to Aila. He hadn’t even the excuse of work to divert him. The rain fell in a deluge these past three days. Showers were common this time of year, however the sheer volume that continued to fall was…well, as Aila had phrased her unorthodox observation, biblical.

  Another trait to add to the growing list of her quirks to titillate and baffle him. In explaining her methods of dealing with his daughter’s irritability, Aila likened it to her own temper. Something she kept under control through meditation. As if she were a bloody guru like the one he’d met in the king’s court long before the war. She spoke in frank terms, offering her opinion in a manner no woman of his acquaintance — even the boldest Scots lass — would dare. Feminism, she called it. She considered her rights and opinion equal to any man’s. Astounding. Not that he disagreed in principle, he’d simply never heard a woman make such an audacious declaration before.

  When he’d mentioned that he would search for a tutor as she suggested for Niall, Aila insisted Effie be tutored in the same subjects. Mathematics, geography, languages.

  She was well-educated. While she evaded topics regarding her personal life, her offhand mention in conversation of attending university or traveling abroad rang with truth despite the former being a near impossibility.

  Her professed love for the theater extended to a flare for dramatic narration. She told of the investigations of Hercule Poirot as he uncovered the murder of an heiress aboard a ship on the Nile River. While he’d enjoyed that particular story, Niall and Effie preferred tales of treasure hunts following their “discovery” of Boyce’s necklace. She accommodated them with the saga of Jim Hawkins, a lad who finds a map marked — conveniently, he observed, only to be hushed by everyone else — with a black X where a notorious pirate had buried his treasure.

  Today she offered a vivid narration of the adventures of Indiana Jones. She sat with Effie in her lap, brushing his daughter’s hair as she told her tale. Aila’s long, straight hair hung free down her back with only two strands pulled back from her face and swayed with each stroke of the brush.

  Or when she bent her head to emphasize some part of the story in an exaggerated whisper close to Effie’s ear. It was such a heartwarming sight that attending her story was difficult. Especially one as convoluted as this. It did allow him to understand the reference she’d made regarding the eeriness of the passageway below. An explorer searching to uncover the resting place of the Ark of the Covenant before villains she described to Effie and Niall as “evil incarnate” could find it and abuse its power? Outlandish and a touch heretical.

  Pure gammon, but she was an enthralling storyteller.

  And the most enthralling lass he’d ever encountered.

  The question was: What did he plan to do about it?

  * * *

  It had been a long few days. If Aila had little experience with parenting, she had even less with ways to occupy a child for days on end. Confined to the nursery with no telly or video games to engage them. No tablet to amuse them while she patted them on the head with a gentle admonishment against too much screen time.

  Isn’t that what parents did these days? In her day, that is.

  What she did have was years of therapy to fall back on. Dealing with the issues she had with her mother, with an abusive home, and all the baggage that came with it had left Aila with some anger issues. Those therapies she could apply to a pair of restless and occasionally temperamental children. And employ herself to calm her own frustrations when they arose. As much as the majority of the hours were pleasantly passed, frustration did come into play…often. In her defense, she’d gone from a childless lifestyle to the deep end of constant care in the blink of an eye. She felt those frustrations were justified.

  To be fair, Finn pulled his weight in entertaining them. It’d come as somewhat of a surprise to discover that she truly liked him. Spending time with him out of bed had proven almost as enjoyable as the hours in it. His sexism was more a sheen than an impenetrable shield, and he wasn’t quite the complete arse she’d accused him of being. True, he had strong opinions regarding politics and religion, but he wasn’t so entrenched in his beliefs that he wasn’t open to her thoughts or a friendly debate. He could poke fun and laugh at himself, too.

  And despite her criticism of how he spoiled his children, he was an affectionate and interactive father. He played games with Niall and Effie. Sometimes she joined in and somehow fumbled through the ones she’d never heard of. Other times, Finn would read aloud for hours on end.

  Once they’d run through the books on hand, however, more drastic measures had needed to be taken, and Aila turned to her schooling and years in the theater industry for inspiration. Before she’d quit university to focus on stage makeup, she’d worked on her single honors in theater studies. Course requirements had included aspects both backstage and onstage. She and Brontë had commiserated about it many a time as neither of them were interested in acting. Nevertheless, her professors often claimed she had a flair for it.

  She’d used the hell out of that skill in the past few days. Scouring her mind for every tale of lost treasure she could think of, she performed with unique voices and melodramatic narration to keep Effie, Niall, and Fergus, too, engaged. Plus, she loved seeing Finn’s eyes light up and his mouth curve into that gorgeous smile when she managed to amuse him.

  More often than not, she could see she confounded him.

  As he did her.

  The reason she was here — why she’d come versus why she stayed — had become blurred. Was it the prospect of treasure? She’d stared at the necklace for hours trying to determine how it had sparked centuries worth of speculation. There was nothing to make her believe there was more to it. Was it so she might sate her desire for Finn?

  There hadn’t been adequate opportunity to think it through, though she did manage a little alone time to decompress, if not overthink her situation. Donning a heavy cloak of oiled canvas to shed the rain, she took Rab for a long walk each afternoon. For his benefit and hers. A chance for them both to get some much-needed exercise after hours confined indoors. To listen to the rain and nothing more…well, other than the whirlwind of thoughts crowding her brain.

  There were an awful lot of things weighing on her, and Rab was ever a good listener.

  Ian was in and out during their confinement to spend time with his own son. The previous evening when the children were asleep, he and Finn had played cards as they did most nights. They’d asked her repeatedly to join them, but as Aila feared, she had no idea how to play. She convinced them to invite Jean to play, as well, under the pretense of teaching her the game. The nursemaid proved herself adept leaving Aila no choice except to confess that she didn’t know the rules.

  That had taken some explaining. How had she gotten to this point in life without knowing how to play whist or piquet? Her sailor father had taken on a fictional vice, recovering gambling addict. No card games allowed. It had been that or a contrived avoidance on religious grounds. Since they’d covered religious philosophy by that point and found her zeal somewhat wanting, the choice was clear.

  Half-truths. Outright lies. It didn’t sit well with her. She did her best to remain her normal honest, forthright self as much as possible without a neon sign flashing on her forehead to reveal the biggest truth she was unable to reveal for obvious reasons. Beyond that obvious gaff and a few slips in reference to works that hadn’t yet been released in this time, overall she’d done well blending in.

  Playing her role.

  The downside was: In the process of managing her small household over the past few days, she’d found herself taking on the roles of a nurse, babysitter/mother, housekeeper, and even wife.

  Essentially, she’d become the one thing she’d never want
ed and found herself in the exact position she’d sworn never to be. And liked it?

  If she had Brontë to talk to, or Violet, she might be able to work out the jumble in her head. As it was, she hadn’t had enough time alone in the past few days to think it through, much less to talk to Finn alone. What would she say to him if she had? Honestly, she had no clue what she’d say when she hadn’t been able to sort through her feelings herself.

  The last conversation they’d had, she nearly spilled the entire story about the catalyst that prompted her split from Kyle. She hadn’t told anyone the gory details, yet a man she’d known only a handful of days had almost become her dearest confidante. Only by turning his words about trust against him and picking a fight had she been able to stop herself.

  She’d love to hear her therapist’s thoughts on that.

  Entrusting the truth to a man she’d known less than a week.

  All this rattled around Aila’s mind as she finished brushing Effie’s fine blonde hair and turned to braiding it.

  “She sits so well for ye,” Finn commented quietly.

  “Aila disnae pull, Da,” Effie told him.

  Aila shrugged with a smile. After days abed, the girl had been in desperate need of a bath, and fresh clothes and linens. Scrubbed clean and her cheeks rosy for all the right reasons. “It’s a girl thing.”

  His smile was tender, affectionate. For her or Effie… or both of them… Aila wasn’t entirely certain.

  His gaze shifted to his daughter. “Either way, ye look verra bonny, sweeting.”

  Beaming at him, Effie crawled into his lap the moment Aila finished with her. Father and daughter. The sight of them cuddling together made her heart flop. Such close parental bonds weren’t something she had much experience with. Honestly, she’d never considered motherhood because of her awful childhood. Now she wondered what it would be like to have a bairn with a man who appreciated all the ups and downs of fatherhood. One who loved freely, gave affection endlessly. If she’d ever had a biological clock, it was tolling the hour like Big Ben right now.

  Not liking the direction of her thoughts, Aila forced a pause on them. She needed some time away from all this confusing domesticity. A night alone if nothing else to have a long bath and try to make sense of everything. Most especially, why she wasn’t gone yet.

  Though perhaps not entirely alone.

  The nursery door banged open, crushing that errant thought.

  Niall burst in followed by Mr. Elliot, who’d taken on the role of Niall’s tutor — part time, so as to not alert Derne to his shift of position. Not just yet, he insisted. The young man appeared far less nervy than he’d been when they first met. Nor did he seem as harried as she’d been with a day with the active lad behind her. His ginger hair was still tied neatly into a queue and he was smiling, so the role of teacher must suit him.

  Niall waved a rough, hand-drawn map in the air before he handed it to Finn. “We studied geography today. The Americas and Brazil.”

  “The lad is most interested in legends of treasure as am I, so I used that interest to map possible resting places for them,” Elliot explained as if he needed to justify the subject. He looked at her with open curiosity, that wee twitch of his making his eyelid quiver ever so slightly. It was unnerving to meet his eye.

  “He says you told him of the Seven Cities of Cibola, Mistress Marshall. How is it a young lady such as yourself came to be familiar with an ancient Portuguese myth and the conquests of Francisco Vázquez de Coronado? And El Dorado? The City of Gold?” He chuckled. “Not the sort of thing young ladies such as yourself are usually taught, if I may say so.”

  Ye may no’, she longed to say. Nor could she refer to her childlike adoration of animated cartoons featuring the voice of the brilliant Kenneth Branagh or a love of any Helen Mirren role, even the most obscure.

  “My father was a sailor.” She offered a partial truth, unwilling to quibble between the words “sailor” and “fisherman.”

  “He traveled the world —” or so she imagined, since he’d gone far enough never to return “— and I spent much of my childhood reading about the places I imagined he’d visited.”

  There. Not a single lie. She was proud of herself.

  “Reading? I thought ladies only read poetry and gothic romance.”

  Aila rolled her eyes. Heaven forbid! Someone needed to update the youth on the accuracy of his opinions of women. Since Finn, too, seemed interested and without a speck of skepticism, she added another truth. “I’m a terrible piano player.”

  Elliot laughed at that and let the subject drop. “At any rate, I had a few tales of lost treasure myself. Ships from France carrying gold to support the Jacobites, only to vanish without a trace and the like. Niall is a most inquisitive lad with endless curiosity and imagination. I’ve enjoyed our studies tremendously. Tomorrow afternoon, then?”

  He directed the question to Finn who nodded. “I’d like ye to include Effie in the lessons, if ye would.”

  Finn cast a sidelong glance at Aila with an arched brow. Thrilled that he’d listened to her recommendation, she rewarded him with a bright smile. For now. Later, she might feel inclined to spread the appreciation on a bit thicker.

  He winked and turned back to the tutor. “Double the rate, of course. Ye’ll find her just as bright as her brother.”

  Though Elliot looked taken aback by the request, he recovered with a hasty nod. “Of course, of course. Will she be well enough? I know she’s been ill. Oh, and that reminds me. The reason Niall and I ended our session early today is —”

  The sentence didn’t need to be finished verbally. Niall spewed the reason out all over the floor in the most vivid method possible.

  Aila squelched a sympathetic gag reflex and reached for a glass of water.

  There would be no alone time for her tonight.

  Chapter 20

  Two more days down the road

  “That’s the twenty pounds I owed ye plus another five in my pocket.” Ian made the note on a slip of paper and shuffled the cards. “Another hand?”

  Finn nodded and scratched the scruffy growth of beard that a handful of days without a shave had wrought. He glanced at a clock on the mantel and down at the flurry of cards on the table.

  “Bairns are back to their normal feisty selves?”

  After a moment of expectant silence, Finn registered his friend’s question and nodded again. “For the most part. There are some lingering symptoms, otherwise they are nae worse for the wear. It gladdens me that Fergus dinnae become afflicted.”

  “Thank God for that. Lad’s all I have.”

  With another bob of his head, Finn gathered up his cards and stared blindly at them. Then up at the clock again. Would this interminable night never end?

  Ian, who’d carried the conversation for most of the evening, spoke again. This time the subject matter more in line with the thoughts that preoccupied Finn and fueled his losing streak. “Aila’s been a good soldier. She got more than she anticipated when she took this on.”

  Through the worry, the nursing, the tantrums, and the long, long hours of diverting his children’s attention away from mordant boredom, Aila hadn’t made a single complaint in the entirety of the five days they’d spent confined to the nursery. Not one, despite how the situation would test anyone’s patience. He wouldn’t have blamed her a bit if she had. His offspring had been a blasted trial. With months or perhaps a year or more of virtual blindness on the matter behind him, it was easy to step back and see the error in his ways. Aila had proven herself a most effective nanny.

  However, Ian was right. She hadn’t signed up for the level of adversity her role as his nursemaid had heaped upon her. She wasn’t a nursemaid. He’d forced the role upon her by refusing to condone the work she’d been hired to do.

  What a laugh. Finn took a long swallow of his whisky in the hope it would burn away a portion of his guilt. He’d rejected her for the precise reason she’d accused him of. Fear that she would be a distr
action working by his side. Truth of it, she was a distraction even through a brick wall. He should make right on that bullheaded decision and welcome her back to the work site. Let her do the original job she’d been hired to do. There were a dozen maids in the castle who could mind Niall and Effie.

  His gaze drifted to the plans laid out on the table then back to the clock. Aye, he could do just that. No better time than the present to right his wrongs.

  “Ye ken, a woman like that would be an excellent mother for yer bairns.”

  That got his attention as no subject Ian raised in the last few hours managed to do. His friend’s eyes were riveted to the cards in his hands. A wee smile twitched his lips, however. Enough for Finn to know that Ian hoped for the precise reaction he received from Finn. Gaping astonishment. Conflicted denial.

  “I’ll remind ye, I’ve kent the lass but a sennight.”

  Ian folded his cards in one hand and reached for his glass of whisky. “Sometimes it dinnae take long to ken.”

  Finn didn’t ask what he meant. Ian referred to his late wife. He’d met Fiona at Finn’s wedding and married her less than a month later. Not long by any measure.

  That wasn’t the entirety of Ian’s insinuation.

  “Ye’re suggesting that I love Aila?”

  His friend lifted a mocking brow to glance at him over the top of his glass as he drank. “Ye dinnae?”

  With a roll of his eyes, Finn spread his cards for a look. All he saw was Aila. A fire roared in the fireplace, but the only warmth he felt was her scorching touch. The only smell, warm and womanly. He’d never been one to obsess, yet she…and the enigma she represented…were all he could think about.

  Did he love her? He couldn’t say. Could he? The answer was a simple one. Aye. He was utterly taken with her. Not only her passion. Her fascinating mind, quirky humor, and the caring nature she attempted to hide beneath a veil of sarcasm fascinated him. Aye, it would be an easy thing to give himself over entirely, lose himself completely to her charms.