by Darci Balogh
Just as the jeweler, a wiry little man with thick spectacles and a shock of greying red hair, noticed Tawnyetta and Bridget at the window, Bea re-joined them.
"Did you see anything?" Tawnyetta asked in a loud whisper.
"There is a man, handsome devil, talking to the tailor," Bea said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "I realized too late that I can't identify Laird MacBrody because I don't know what he looks like."
They all fought the urge to crack up.
"We need to work on our spy techniques," Tawnyetta said.
The jeweler came out from behind his counter and started toward them, eager to invite them in and get a sale.
"We've got to check this out," Bridget said to Tawnyetta.
She gave the jeweler a brilliant, dismissive smile and small wave then grabbed Tawnyetta and Bea by the elbow and steered them swiftly away. Tawnyetta had half a second to give the jeweler an apologetic nod before they disappeared from his sight.
They stood in a line with their backs against the stone wall between the windows of 'Fine Gold and Gifts' and 'Abernathy's', hopefully out of sight of anyone in either shop. They took a few moments to gather themselves before Tawnyetta, who stood closest to the tailor's window, leaned over to peer through the very edge of the window and see what she could see.
Immediately she made out who she assumed was the tailor. A tall, thin, nervous looking man dressed in a fine suit and wearing a measuring tape around his neck like a doctor might wear a stethoscope. He was engaged in tentative communication with a well built, dark haired man. The man wore a tuxedo jacket and a dark grey and black tartan kilt. Though his back was to her, his size and shape was familiar, wide shoulders, thick, muscled legs. She had definitely seen those legs before, bare and dancing.
Bridget tugged at her elbow, "Do you see him?"
Tawnyetta turned her head quickly and whispered, "I think so." When she turned back and took another peek, her purse erupted with sudden vibrations and a ringtone. The interruption was so unexpected that Tawnyetta yelped and jumped, startling the other two women who let out small shouts of surprise. The sound got the attention of the tailor and he shot a look her way. The man in the kilt turned toward the window to see what all the commotion was about and Tawnyetta ducked out of sight before he could see her, or her him.
Caught in the middle of the sidewalk trying to spy on Laird MacBrody, Tawnyetta cursed under her breath as she shoved her hand into her purse to retrieve her phone. The other two women were dissolving into giggles and Tawnyetta was afraid the whole jig was up.
"Go, go, go!" She hissed at the other two. "I think they're coming."
The three women hurried down the street. They could hear the sound of an ancient door squeaking open, but they didn't turn around to see if it was the tailor or the jeweler or Laird MacBrody.
Tawnyetta managed to get to her phone and hit the answer button. It was Sofia.
"Hello?" Tawnyetta said, out of breath.
"Hey, what are you up to?" Sofia asked.
Tawnyetta started laughing, but managed to answer, "You have no idea."
"Come on!" Bridget wanted them all to hurry. "We'll have to use the other jewelry store."
Tawnyetta told Sofia to hold on as they made their way around the corner. When she was certain they were a safe distance away from Abernathy's, she put the phone back up to her ear.
"What's up?" Tawnyetta asked.
"I thought I would check in on you guys and see how Bridget's doing. How's the trip?" Sofia said.
"It's been pretty fun so far."
"Who is it?" Bridget asked. Tawnyetta mouthed Sofia's name. "Fifi!" Bridget exclaimed. "Tell her hi!"
Tawnyetta nodded and waved Bridget and Bea on toward 'The Ditsy Teacup', indicating with a flick of her hand that she would stay behind and finish her conversation on the phone before joining them. She wanted to talk to Sofia privately.
"Bridge says 'hi'," Tawnyetta said.
"Is she doing okay?" Sofia asked again.
"She is for the most part. Christopher called the other day and put her in a bad way for a while."
"Jerk," Sofia said.
"Not to worry, we have found a distraction." Tawnyetta explained how they had been trying to find Laird MacBrody and had, so far, found him once in all his glory. "I've been kind of encouraging her to crush a little bit on the Scottish Laird. I think it's a fun distraction for her from Christopher and that whole mess."
"That does sound distracting," Sofia laughed. "And how about you?" She asked.
"Me? I'm fine," Tawnyetta answered.
"We were all just kind of hoping that you were having an adventure, you know? Following your dreams and all that."
Unbidden, Shaun's face popped into Tawnyetta's mind. She thought about the sword fight dance they had shared and felt a twinge of curiosity, wondering where he was today and what he was doing. She shook her head as if she could discard the thought of him through the movement.
"Are you still there?" Sofia asked.
Tawnyetta nodded then realized Sofia couldn't see her and answered, "Yes, I'm here."
"So, is anything exciting happening for you in Scotland?" Sofia pressed, not one to be ignored.
"Oh, not a whole lot." Tawnyetta glanced up and down the street at the charming stone buildings and thought of the rolling hills surrounding the castle and the ball gown that matched the green Highland grass. "It is beautiful here, though," she responded. "And there's going to be a ball, so that will be fun."
"A ball? When?" Sofia asked, obviously delighted at the idea.
"This Saturday night."
"An honest-to-goodness ball?"
"Yes, isn't that cool?" Tawnyetta asked. Again, an unbidden thought entered her mind. Sadie had said something about other people in town being invited to the ball. She wondered briefly if Shaun was one of those people.
"Well it sounds like an adventure to me!" Sofia said.
"Yes," Tawnyetta responded, a smile tugged relentlessly on the corners of her mouth, making her smile at nobody in particular on the street. "I suppose it is."
Chapter Nine
The next morning Tawnyetta set out on her own. It was early. Bridget was still sound asleep in their room. The sounds and smells of cooking came from the kitchen, but no staff could be seen and all was quiet in the castle and gardens.
The sunshine of the previous day had not yet reappeared this morning. Tawnyetta found the now familiar dreary morning weather more welcoming today. She had spent enough time in the gardens at the castle that she was no longer uncomfortable exploring them alone in the mysterious morning. In fact, the Highland mist gave everything an otherworldly feel, especially the Secret Garden.
After entering through the archway she followed a grey stone path that was so embedded in the ground it appeared to have grown there. The path led to an equally ancient and semi-dilapidated stone stairway. A wide fence of the same stone, but covered in deep green moss, flanked each side of the stairway and Grecian urns sat at the top, one on each side. Thick, pale green ivy overflowed from them, spilling and twisting down the railings and along the wall that continued into the garden. Great iron trellises, almost twenty feet tall at their highest, held darker green vines that grew so thick in some places, no light pierced through. At least a dozen of these trellises were lined in a great row over the pathway, which created a living tunnel. More climbing plants sprung up from the black earth at the base of the trellises and claimed sections of the tunnel for themselves, snaking and roping their way up through the vines and draping the organic walls with pink and white and red flowers.
Tawnyetta was enchanted. She paused to lean down and smell the sweet scent of the flowers. She peered through openings between the climbing plants where daylight winked to see what might be on the other side. More greenery, more flowers, more places to explore.
At the end of the ivy tunnel was an iron gate set between two partially collapsing white stone pillars. The gate was overrun with climbing flowered
vines. So much so that much of the ornate iron work was hidden, but it was still functional. She could see where it had been opened and closed recently. The pebbles and debris scattered across the pathway had been swept aside by the movement of the gate.
She pulled the gate open and it let out a defiant squeak. When she stepped through into the next section of the garden she heard the distinct sound of metal on rock. A thumping, cracking sound from just around the corner. She followed the sound, curious to find its source.
She came to a halt when she saw Shaun.
He stood on the opposite side of yet another low stone wall, a sledgehammer in one hand. He was pounding a metal bracket into the hard stone. He looked up, noticing her motion in the otherwise still space.
Tawnyetta's skin tingled at the sight of him. His heavy work shirt was off and draped on the wall next to him, leaving him in a white T-shirt. His forearms flexed where he held the hammer, worn leather gloves covered his hands. Standing in the dewy morning, a fine mist melting on the ground around him, his eyes were electric blue. He stood up from his half bent position and stared at her for a long moment. Her heart jumped into her throat and she found that she could not speak or move. Then, suddenly, his expression changed, as if he'd woken from a daydream. He tipped his head in her direction, breaking the strange spell between them.
"Good morning, lass," he said.
Shyness flooded through her and she couldn't think of what to say. She hadn't admitted to herself that she hoped to see Shaun this morning. Alone and away from everyone. Now that he was right there in front of her, she couldn't look away. As he gazed at her, waiting, embarrassment slipped over her and turned her cheeks pink.
"I'm sorry," she took a few steps back and turned to leave him alone.
In one swift move he dropped his sledgehammer on top of the wall, placed his gloved hand on it to balance and hopped easily across, like someone might hope over a turnstile at a subway station.
"Don't go," he said as he landed and straightened.
"I don't want to bother you while you're working," Tawnyetta finally found her voice.
Shaun dismissed his sledgehammer project with a backhanded wave. "You're not interrupting a thing." He glanced around behind her. "Where is your friend?" He put emphasis on the word friend and grinned as he pulled off his work gloves.
"She's still sleeping. She's not much of a morning person."
"But you are?"
Tawnyetta relaxed a little at the question. Glad to have something to talk about. "I am. I like to get up and get things done."
"Me too." He placed the work gloves on top of his work shirt on the wall.
Tawnyetta stepped closer to the stone wall. She peered at where he had been pounding on the side of the rock to try to determine what he was working on.
"I see that," she said, smiling back at him. Something in the way Shaun held himself shifted. He ducked his chin and leaned on one foot then the other. Her praise pleased him.
"Are you enjoying your room in the keep?" He leaned against the wall, settling in for a talk.
"The keep?" She wrinkled her brow.
He indicated the castle towers with a quick nod of his head. They were visible just over the tops of the surrounding trees.
"Aye, that's where your room is. Inside the keep."
"What's a keep?"
He seemed to be enjoying his role as instructor. "The keep is the stronghold of the castle. It's where Laird's of old kept their most precious possessions."
She knew he was speaking about the fortress aspect of the castle. But the look in his eyes made her cheeks redden again. She considered his comment and thought about their room in the uppermost floor. The spiral staircase had a few tiny windows in it for light, but not anything that a human could fit through. The large windows at the top floor were too high for anyone to get in using a ladder. With its un-scalable walls, lack of windows, and the single door entry at the bottom, she could see how it would be quite a stronghold.
"I suppose it would be difficult to get in if nobody wanted to let you in," she said.
"Aye, it's the safest part of the castle. The most protected. The most difficult to enter."
Tawnyetta looked at him, but he wasn't looking at the keep. His deep blue eyes were trained on her. Gazing at her face, the lines of her jaw, her full lips, he seemed lost in thought. Tawnyetta cleared her throat. This brought him out of whatever reverie he had been in and he thought of something polite to say.
"Is this your first visit to the Highlands?" he asked.
"It's my first visit to Scotland. To Europe, actually."
His eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "We're honored to have you."
"Well, it was Bridget's...my friend's choice actually. I filled in when it was decided that her fiancé, or ex-fiancé I guess, wasn't coming." Tawnyetta smiled sheepishly.
"Ach, that's right, that's what you said before." He folded his hands in his lap and cocked his head at her. He seemed amused, but he didn't say anything. Tawnyetta felt as if she should fill the void.
"You've always lived here?" she asked.
His eyes moved unconsciously toward the castle, then down to his hands in his lap. He sighed. "I was away at Uni in Edinburgh for a while. Then I came back."
It was strange to her that someone who studied at a university would become a gardener. She furrowed her brow at him. "Would you have rather stayed away? Done something else besides this?" She indicated the surrounding garden
He stiffened, almost imperceptibly. Something like a frown flickered through his eyes. "I used to want to stay away. But we don't always get what we want, do we?"
Realizing her faux pas she tried to think of another subject. Being a gardener wasn't such a terrible job and she hadn't meant to offend him, but it was obvious she had hit a nerve. She opened her mouth to apologize for being too personal and stepping over a line when the iron gate squeaked and caught both of their attention.
A tiny, fragile old man teetered through the gate. He was dressed in layers, navy blue pants, a hunter green vest, a dark grey sport coat that looked like it was made of wool, and a red scarf that matched the red cap sitting askew on his head. He was gnarled and wrinkled and looked like he lived in the garden. She wouldn't have been surprised to find out he was some kind of elf or troll and not an actual human being. She glanced at Shaun for his reaction and saw that his expression had softened considerably.
"Dougie," he said, giving the little old man a warm smile.
Shaun left his seat on the stone wall and went to Dougie, offering him his hand to help him walk over the rough ground.
Dougie waved him away with a curt look. "Off with you, lad. I can still handle myself."
His brogue was thick, but Tawnyetta had gotten better at deciphering the Scottish accent when she concentrated. When he got closer, which took a few long moments, Dougie zeroed in on Tawnyetta with sharp blue eyes. His body was thin and stooped, his face held deep wrinkles and spotty, salt and pepper stubble, but his eyes were clear and focused, unchanged since his youth, she imagined.
He pointed a crooked finger at her and shook it in mock scolding. "And who is this bonnie wee lass?"
Shaun shot her an amused glance and cleared his throat before answering, "This is Miss Tawnyetta. She is a guest at the castle."
Dougie nodded his approval. He came to an uneven stop in front of her and offered her his hand. She took it. Dry cool skin covered fragile old bones. He patted the top of her hand with his other palm and leaned in toward her to get a better look. He smelled like pipe tobacco and moss, exactly what she would expect a gnome to smell like.
"Welcome, lass. It's good to have such a bonnie face in the garden."
"Thank you, that's very kind. It's nice to meet you."
"This is Dougie, the caretaker of Claymore Castle. He's been here as long as anyone can remember," Shaun explained with another amused smile and a gracious half-bow.
Dougie dismissed the bow by raising his palm in p
rotest and shaking his head once. Shaun stood straight again, politely obeying the elderly caretaker.
"Are you familiar with the MacBrody's, lass?" Dougie asked her.
"No, not really. I came here with a friend on short notice. I did not have time to look into the history of the place before we left," she responded.
"Look no further, lass. I know all there is to know about Laird Michael MacBrody."
Shaun shifted on his feet and turned his gaze to the ground. Dougie gave him a sideways look and leaned in to speak to Tawnyetta conspiratorially.
"I've known Laird Michael since he was a wee bairn. The very day he came screaming out of his mother," Dougie said.
Tawnyetta smiled. "Really?"
Shaun cleared his throat, fidgeting. He looked uncomfortable, embarrassed. He must be feeling guilty talking about his employer while taking such a long break. He probably wasn't supposed to stop and fraternize with the guests on a work day.
Dougie paid him no mind and continued, "Do you know that he wasn't even supposed to be Laird? He had other plans. Big plans! He was going to be a big man of academics in Glasgow or Edinburgh." Dougie nodded for emphasis. "His older brother was Laird first. Laird Greg. Laird Greg was the first born and the heir to Claymore Castle."
Shaun cleared his throat again, pushing some loose pebbles at the foot of the stone wall around with his toe. He mumbled something.
"What's that?" Dougie asked.
Shaun picked up his sledgehammer, work shirt and gloves, and said, "I'll be getting back to work now."
Dougie waved this comment away, but Shaun took off toward the iron gate anyway.
Dougie turned his attention back to Tawnyetta. "Laird Greg inherited this whole place." He indicated their surroundings with a feeble sweep of his arm. "But he was taken too young from this world. Died in a terrible accident."
Shaun glanced back at her and Dougie for a brief second, one hand on the iron gate, a scowl in his eyes.
"That's terrible," Tawnyetta said to Dougie, though her attention was on Shaun.