Grace and Dand watched from the doorway as Ross led Sadie to her side of the truck. When she was buckled in, he stowed their things in the back, and got in the driver’s side. A minute later, the two of them were gone.
“Nan, can’t we do anything to make Aunt Sadie stay?”
Maybe. “Run into the parlor and get a board game set up for us. I have a call to make first.”
Dand looked up at her. “To who?”
“Never mind that. Go on now. And see if Aunt Glynnis needs a fresh cup of water. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Ross was fighting his feelings, and Grace understood why. For so long, he’d been attached to Pippa, and now he was free. But love had a way of showing up unexpectedly and knocking on your door at the most inopportune times. It had been that way for her and Alistair. She’d been all set to move, a job lined up in London, her dream of living in a big city about to come true. But then Alistair, whom she’d known all her life, had pulled his boat into the dock, and asked her to go for a ride. The rest was history. What a blessing. She was glad she’d answered the door when love knocked. Otherwise, her life wouldn’t have been as rich and full.
Grace waited until Dand shut the door before lifting the receiver from the old rotary phone hanging on the wall.
She resolved to have no misgivings about what she was going to do. When she was younger, she resented the meddling old women of Gandiegow for doing what they did best—meddle. Grace reassured her nagging conscience that her motives were pure. She was getting involved out of love. She chuckled to herself. If questioned, all the busybodies of Gandiegow would say they did it out of love, too. Thirty-five years ago, she would’ve never foreseen becoming one of them . . . and aligning herself with the head busybody, Deydie!
But Grace liked Sadie. More important, Ross liked her, too. Without Grace’s help, he would be pigheaded and screw it up, and all because Alistair, her beloved husband, and Lachlan, Pippa’s father, had insisted that the two children marry one day.
Intervening was the only way to save her son from missing the wonderful life that awaited him. She would be his saving grace.
Deydie picked up. “Hallo.”
“It’s me, Grace. I’m calling for a favor.” She knew she would have to tread lightly with Deydie, as well as her son. “It’s about Sadie.”
“Did they get the material for the tablecloths?”
“Aye. They’re on their way home.”
“How is the lass feeling? Did she tell ye she’s sick?” Deydie said it as if Sadie’s illness was a curse.
But Grace knew better. “Aye. She told me about her illness. She’s feeling fine.”
Deydie cleared her throat.
Grace knew what that meant. Deydie was ready to let loose with some gossip.
“Did she also tell ye that I found Ross in her bedroom?”
“Nay.” Grace didn’t know how she felt about that. What mother wanted to know the comings and goings of her grown son’s bedmates?
Deydie continued. “But I put a stop to it straightaway. Ross doesn’t need a sickly lass. I promise to watch them close. We’ll make sure to keep them apart.”
Now what was Grace supposed to say? She couldn’t come out and tell Deydie the reason for her call if the old woman couldn’t see the truth . . . that Sadie might be Ross’s one true love. But what could Grace say to Deydie now to make her keep Sadie in town?
“How’s her brother?” Grace offered, to buy herself some time.
“Now that one is hearty and hale. And handy. I wouldn’t mind having him around permanently. He would make quite the addition to the community.”
Now there was an idea! “From what I learned from Sadie, I expect the best way to keep Oliver in Gandiegow is to have the lass stay as well. She said he’s terribly protective of her.”
“Aye. Ye’re right. He’s a good lad. But what could I do to make the lass want to stay?”
Well, asking Sadie to clean Gandiegow’s teeth wasn’t the way to go. “How about having her teach at the quilt retreat? Do you have one going on next week?”
“I do, but I don’t think the lass will do it willingly. She isn’t fond of Quilting Central.”
“Hmm.” Grace thought fast. “How about if ye tell the lass that one of the teachers had to cancel and ye have no one at all to take her place?”
“But the town is filled with capable stand-ins,” Deydie complained.
Grace smiled into the phone. “You know that. And I know that. But Sadie doesn’t.”
Deydie cackled. “Och, Grace, ye may have lived in Glasgow these past two years, but ye’re still a Gandiegow woman at heart.”
Grace had to admit it was true. But she would have to be careful with Ross. She couldn’t push Sadie on him like Pippa had been forced on him all those years. Grace had only bought her son some time.
Chapter Ten
Ross didn’t look at Sadie as he wound the truck through Glasgow. He didn’t say anything either. He wasn’t happy driving home so late, but he knew it was best. He wanted her out of the city to keep her safe from the Glaswegian men. But he needed to keep her safe from him as well. Hell, he needed to protect himself, too. Her kisses were addicting. The second he arrived home, he was going to put a hundred nautical miles between him and the American lass.
Without letting his eyes leave the road, he adjusted the pillow and quilt between them. “This is for you, in case ye get tired. It’s a long way back to Gandiegow.” His voice sounded strained.
She didn’t say anything.
He glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”
She shrugged.
“Talk to me, Sadie.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ye’re not. Now tell me.”
She looked out her window. “But it’s stupid.”
“What’s stupid?”
“I’m going to miss Dand.” She paused for a second. “And I really liked your mother.”
He’d been warned his whole life about women and their crazy emotions. But this rogue wave that she’d tossed at him seemed real, especially the way she chewed her lip. He kind of felt honored that she would tell him the truth. “Are ye buckled up well?”
She gazed over at him. “Yes. Why?”
“I want ye safe and secure. Lay yere head on the pillow and get some rest.” He couldn’t do anything about her missing Dand—and his mother—but he could heed Doc MacGregor’s advice about how to help her: Make sure Sadie doesn’t get overly tired.
She didn’t move. She just sat there, staring at him.
He patted the pillow. “Come on, lass.”
Finally, she did as he asked and laid her head down.
He wanted to comfort her, perhaps caress her arm, but he couldn’t. “Are ye warm enough?”
“I’m okay.” She had her sweater on so he guessed that she was.
They were finally out of the city and he pointed the truck north, relieved to be on the road home.
He honestly couldn’t understand how anyone could live in a city like Glasgow, landlocked as it was. Sure, it had the River Clyde, but it wasn’t the same as having the North Sea as his playground. Ross loved seeing his mom, but he missed the ocean. He missed fishing. He was certain that’s what was wrong with him. That as soon as he got home and back on the boat, he would feel more like himself. He glanced down at Sadie lying beside him. Aye, his strange feelings really had nothing to do with her at all.
The pillow was a good call. She looked to be sound asleep.
“Sadie?” he said quietly.
She didn’t stir.
Poor thing. He laid his arm across her and held on to her . . . in case he had to make a sudden stop or something.
But there was no traffic on the road this late. He used the time to think on his future, about what he was going to do next with his life—new job, new caree
r—but he kept glancing at Sadie and found no real answers. As he drove farther into the Highlands, he felt better and not so worried about his next step.
It was one o’clock in the morn when they came down the steep road leading into Gandiegow. He got out, grabbed the bags from the back, and opened Sadie’s side of the truck. She was stirring, but he didn’t see any need for her to fully wake. He scooped her into his arms.
“I can walk,” she said quietly, almost as if she didn’t want to bother the town.
“Nay. I’ve got ye. Ye’re only dreaming anyway.” She weighed little more than Dand. It occurred to Ross how fragile she felt. He held her closer. “Sleep now.”
She cuddled into him, and he smiled.
At Thistle Glen Lodge, without jostling his load, he maneuvered around to open the door. Soft lights had been left on in the hallway and the kitchen. He walked her to the loo and gave her a little squeeze. “Pit stop.” He pulled off her shoes before setting her on her feet.
When Sadie slipped inside, he quietly set her bag down and unzipped it carefully. Her purple plaid pajamas were on top. He pulled them out and tapped at the door.
She cracked it open and looked out.
“Yere night things.”
“Thanks.” She took them. “Good night, Ross.” She stared at him a second longer and then closed the door.
But he didn’t budge. The job wasn’t done. He was a man who saw things through to the end. He waited for her to come out and enjoyed the shocked surprise on her face.
“I said good night,” she whispered.
“Aye.” He took the clothes she held in her arms. “Just making sure ye get to bed all right.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“You? Ye’re the size of a mite.” And not a girl, but a woman. A woman with a delightful bit of fire in her eyes.
“I never asked you to be my manservant.”
“Take advantage of me while ye can.”
They both stared at each other under the light in the hallway. He hadn’t meant it in a sexual way, but her eyes dilated, and the air between them sparked.
“I didn’t mean—”
She put her hand up, cutting him off. “I know.”
She stepped in front of him, and when she passed, he stretched out his hand and let the fabric of her pajamas brush his fingertips.
Silently, he followed her into the bedroom, but he didn’t have to worry about being too quiet; the snoring in the next room could’ve woken his mum in Glasgow.
Ross leaned down and spoke in Sadie’s ear. “Will ye be able to sleep with this noise?”
She shivered, but surely not because he was standing so close. More likely, she was chilly.
She turned and whispered back. “I have earplugs.”
He stilled; her breath on him felt like a butterfly’s caress. While he was immobilized, she climbed into bed.
He regained his senses and pulled the quilt up, tucking her in. Everything in him wanted to lean down and kiss her, taste her sweet lips again. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t! He’d confused them both enough already. He was way overdue for some distance from this lass. He needed to get out of here.
He turned to leave, but her hand slipped into his. And then she tugged.
* * *
It was the bravest thing Sadie had ever done, getting his attention. But she needed to thank Ross for being so kind to her, so gentle, so good. She needed to thank him for taking her to Glasgow to buy books, and for letting her meet his mother. She needed to thank him for being such a good friend to her.
And all the while, she was pretty certain she was lying to herself about all of it.
She pulled him down, his hands landing on either side of her. She was just going to make it a quick thank you kiss. A peck on the cheek.
What she intended, though, was not what she did.
She clutched his shirtfront, stared into his face—registering only his hooded eyes in the moonlit room—and then pulled him to her lips. She was hungry for his kiss, maybe even a little desperate. She angled her mouth over his and kissed him with all she had. He didn’t pull away, but adjusted his position, as he sat down beside her. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back. He seemed a little desperate, too.
They were a couple of starved creatures, feasting on each other’s mouths. But something changed. He rested his hand on her cheek, and the kiss turned tender. And it was as if the tenderness was the thing that killed it.
He pulled away. “I have to go.” His face was so very close to hers.
“I know,” she whispered. “It was only a dream.”
He let go of her and she scooted under the quilts. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see him leave.
Quietly, he pulled the door closed behind him.
Yes. It had been a dream. All the time she’d spent with Ross had been just that.
Sleep should’ve been elusive, but she needed to only pretend that she was back in his truck with his arm tucked protectively around her, and she fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning, Sadie woke before the rest of the quilters. She could’ve lain there all day, reliving the kiss in this very bed, but instead, she tucked the memory away, knowing she would pull it out often when she was alone in Gigi’s house back in North Carolina. She crawled out of bed. She had a lot to accomplish today . . . because tomorrow, she was going home.
It didn’t take long to get ready. She liked that she was super low maintenance, which would serve her well when she had her transplant. She had only to shower, comb out her wet hair, and dress. She didn’t bother with makeup or curling irons. She was who she was, and that was okay with her.
When she arrived at Quilting Central, she was relieved no one was there . . . yet. She went to her corner, prepared to get as much done as quickly as possible before they descended upon her. She knew it would be hard to be around the gray-haired ladies, but Sadie steeled herself for what had to be done. As she scooted furniture to the side to make room for the book nook, she began to envision how the library space should flow. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that when the bell above the door jingled, she jumped.
“It’s just me,” Ross said in his soothing baritone.
“I thought you would be out with your brother fishing this morning,” she said.
He lifted his arms, showing the first two bags of books that she’d bought in Glasgow. “I thought ye might want these first.”
The air between them was an awkward mess, and it was all her fault. She shouldn’t have kissed him last night. But at the same time, she was glad she had. It was her way of saying good-bye.
“Sadie, I—”
Deydie hustled through the door. “Why are ye two here so early?” she barked.
Ross set the bags next to Sadie and headed for the door. “I’m not really here. I’m just dropping these off, then I’m catching a ride out with Brodie to meet up with John.”
Deydie snatched up her broom and blocked him. “Ye’re not going anywhere, laddie.”
Ross raised an eyebrow as if her broom was nothing more than a twig.
Deydie’s broom stayed firm. “Ye promised to make the shelves for the library. And that’s what ye’re going to do. Today. And if it’s help ye need, then get Max or Abraham to assist ye.”
He glanced at Sadie, and then looked at Deydie as if help wasn’t the problem. “I already set it up with Brodie. He’s waiting for me on his boat. And I’ve texted John that I’d meet up with him at the fishing grounds.”
Deydie jabbed her broom as if holding off a ferocious lion. “Then ye can undo it.”
He snarled a little.
Deydie then turned on Sadie. “Why are ye here early, missy? Shouldn’t ye be in bed, resting? Ye look like shite.”
Ross whipped around in Deydie’s direction. “Now, see here—”
>
Sadie stepped around him. “I needed an early start if I’m to get the library set up before I leave.”
Deydie put her broom down and leaned on it. “Ye’re not going anywhere either.”
Sadie tilted her head to the side, because the old woman had gone batty. “That’s what I just said. I’m going to stay here today and work on your library.”
As Deydie shook her head, her jowls jiggled. “Nay. Not today. I mean to say, ye’re not going anywhere tomorrow.” She set her broom against the wall and came to her. “It’s all squared away. The next retreat is starting soon.” She looked off in the distance, seeming to talk to herself. “And why we thought we could handle another retreat and Moira’s wedding is beyond me.”
“What do you mean, it’s all squared away?” Sadie said, trying to get Deydie to make sense.
“We’re short a quilt teacher, so ye’re going to do it.”
Sadie wobbled a little. “What?”
Ross reached for her, but she saw the moment he stopped himself. Instead, he took a step away.
“Ye have plenty of people in this town to teach quilting,” he said.
Although the words seemed to be in her defense, Sadie’s heart sank. She felt certain he just wanted her gone.
Deydie was shaking her head dramatically. “Nay. The wedding, Ross. Everyone is busy. And Oliver said the lass would be happy to do it.”
Oliver again! Well, she wasn’t being pushed around by him anymore. “I’m sorry, but my airline ticket is for tomorrow.”
“It’s all taken care of. Kilts and Quilts made yere reservation in the first place, so I changed it. Ye’re here for another week.” Deydie held up her hand as if Sadie could actually form any words in protest.
Her throat was too dry.
Deydie pointed to the calendar on the wall. “Before ye say any more, I know the retreat is only for three days, but ye have to stay a wee bit longer. We need all the hands we can get.”
“I’m not a quilt teacher,” Sadie said quietly. She never planned on quilting again, in fact. She loved it, but couldn’t do it. That was her penance for causing her grandmother’s death.
The Trouble with Scotland Page 16