Wake Me With a Kiss: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Regency Fairy Twists Book 1)

by Samantha Holt

  “It’s a pleasure to be formally introduced,” the laird said. “I’m Hamish McTavish, Laird of Baleith.”

  Hamish. It suited him. Strong and straightforward. At least now she would no longer have to think of him as just the laird or the man in the kilt or the devastatingly attractive highlander.

  Not that she had ever thought of him as that.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, my laird. What brings you here?”

  She sat next to her aunt on the sofa, finally aware of the way her aunt watched her closely. She would have to be careful. Aunt May had already expressed some disapproval of the man and had not been keen on meeting him. Not that she was overly keen, of course, but they had to at least be polite.

  “I’ve been meeting with my tenants today.” He smiled at Aunt May. “I’ve been trying to get to know all of them though, of course, there are many, so it’s quite a task.”

  Rose glanced at her aunt to see a strange sort of shock on her face. Perhaps her aunt was also taken in by the incredible presence of him. She had been aware he was quite the man when they had met but there was something about having him in a small room that increased his presence, as though he should not be contained in four walls.

  “Anyway, I thought it prudent to visit with my nearest neighbors. My estate manager tells me ye had quite the friendship with my cousin.”

  “Oh, I would not say it was a friendship as such. More like pleasant acquaintances.” Her aunt flicked open her fan and waved it in front of her face.

  Aunt May’s cheeks had reddened. They normally did when she was not quite telling the truth. They were not great friends with the late laird but Laird Malcolm had been good to them, bringing them fresh eggs and meat on occasion. He had been keen to keep a good relationship with his neighbors as did Hamish, it seemed, so why would her aunt want to dissuade that idea?

  “Well, I should very much like to cultivate a friendship between us. I’m new to the area and in need of guidance. I have no doubt ye know most of the families here. Ye are certainly well spoken of.”

  The fan began fluttering at a furious pace. That was a lie too, though she could not say she knew that from Hamish’s expression, as it was entirely open and charming—quite unlike the man she had met a few days ago. However, whilst Aunt May was well-liked and everyone was pleasant to them, they were considered odd—these four women tucked away by the forest, only coming out to buy books and fabric and never socializing with the good people of Baleith.

  If Hamish had been asking about them, he would know this.

  “I am sure a man like yourself does not need help,” Rose put in as her aunt searched the room with her gaze as though the right words might pop out from behind the curtains.

  “All men need help, whether they want to admit it or no’,” he said with a grin.

  “Well, I am sure we will try our best, but my niece and I do not spend much time with the local families. We like our own company. I fear we would be frightfully boring to you.”

  Aunt May finally spoke the truth, but Rose could not help cringe inwardly. Hamish must think them the oddest people. In truth, there was many a time she questioned their existence. Was she to spend the rest of her days learning from books and pottering around the forest? Whenever she suggested that her life was a little dull, Aunt May grew extremely upset and thus, Rose rarely complained. After all, she could not be more grateful to the woman who had raised her.

  He glanced at the book Rose had carelessly left on the drawing desk. “Ye like history, Mrs. Merriweather?” He noted the title and a smile tugged his lips. Inwardly, Rose groaned.

  Her aunt shook her head. “That is Miss Merriweather. She is usually keen on Greek history, but it seems she has decided to take more of an interest in local history.”

  Rose lowered her glance to her lap. “One should always learn about the country in which they live,” she said quietly.

  “Aye, though I would have thought Lowland history would have been more intriguing to ye.” Her gaze shot up to his and she knew then he understood why she had been interested in Highland history. It was because she had been intrigued by him.

  “I—”

  Hamish held up a hand, a crease appearing between his dark brows. “Do ye smell smoke?”

  Rose straightened and took a sniff. “I do.” She stood to open the door to the drawing room and a cloud of grey smoke flew in. She gasped.

  “Good God, a fire.” He stood. “Come, ladies, out of the house now. I shall investigate.”

  “Oh no, I am sure there is no need. You had better leave, my laird. We shall see to this.” Aunt May tried to usher him out.

  “Not at all. I wouldnae leave ye in such a time.” He motioned to the door. “Out with ye now.”

  Aunt May opened her mouth to protest but as the smoke continued to billow into the room, she finally stood.

  “Come on, Aunt,” Rose urged, taking her arm. She could not fathom why her aunt would not wish to leave immediately. She only hoped Miss Taylor and Mrs. Shaw were safe.

  They piled outside and she sucked in a grateful gulp of clean air. Glancing around, she could not see either the housekeeper or the cook. The gardener peered at the house, his eyes wide.

  “What’s happened ‘ere?”

  “Have you seen Miss Taylor or Mrs. Shaw?”

  He shook his head. “Is it a fire?”

  Hamish nodded. “These women, they’re in the house?”

  “Yes,” Rose said, gripping Aunt May’s hand.

  Her aunt waved her free hand. “I am sure they are fine.”

  “We must be sure,” Rose insisted. Why was her aunt not more concerned? Why was she not fretting that their house may burn to the ground?

  “Aye, we must.” Hamish tugged off his jacket and looked to the gardener. “I’ll investigate. Gather some water—and sand if you have some. If we can tackle it, we must.” Pulling free his neckcloth, he covered his mouth and darted back into the house.

  “Be careful,” Rose called but she did not think he’d heard.

  For many anxious moments, they waited. Rose’s heart beat hard in her chest while she watched the door for any sign of them. She whirled at the sight of Miss Taylor coming around the back of the house.

  “Is Mrs. Shaw with you?”

  “No. She was in the kitchen last I looked.”

  The most likely place that the fire had started. Rose put a hand to her mouth. “Oh goodness. What of the laird?” Rose pressed the housekeeper.

  “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 h
our 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 h
er 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.”