“Nothing. It’s just Ryn is still abed and needs her rest. How about we call on her later?”
Deydie rested her hands on her substantial hips. “We’re already here. So let me talk to the lass.”
Deydie took the nearby kitchen chair and plopped down in it. “Ye did a nice job with the quilt retreat here, and not a half bad job in Gandiegow—though ye were in terrible straights and didn’t finish.” She turned to Sophie. “Make us some tea.”
Deydie shifted around to see Sophie, and Ryn took the opportunity to glance at the crack in the bathroom door. She was grateful Tuck’s face had disappeared. She wondered how long he could hide out, especially since Deydie seemed to be settling in.
“What’s there to eat for breakfast?” Deydie asked.
“Toast?” Sophie offered, still looking panicked.
“Make some eggs, too. Scrambled. Doc says protein is important, especially first thing in the morning.”
Ryn carefully scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped on her robe, which had been lying at the end. “If you’ll excuse me.” She put her feet over the side and her toes began searching for her house shoes. She was stiff and any movement hurt, but she had to warn Tuck it was going to be a while. She didn’t want to think what would happen if Deydie had to pee!
That thought, and Sophie running the water, was a horrible combination, reminding Ryn she hadn’t gone this morning.
“Where are ye off to?” Deydie said. “I’m not done talking to you.”
“Sorry. Bathroom break,” Ryn said.
Sophie’s eyes grew, which would’ve been amusing if the situation wasn’t dire.
Ryn supported her aching abdomen and hurried to the bathroom, trying not to open the door too wide to show Deydie who lurked inside.
At first glance, Ryn didn’t see Tuck. She pulled back the shower curtain and didn’t see him on second glance either. Where is he? The opened window gave her a clue and she let out her held breath. She leaned out and Tuck was nowhere in sight. She closed the window, made use of the restroom, washed hands, looked in the mirror, and wondered how she’d gotten herself into such a mess. She dawdled a bit more and finally was ready to join Sophie and Deydie for tea.
When she stepped out, she had a fright. Tuck—no-pajamas-but-completely-dressed-for-the-day-in-his-kilt—was sipping a cup of tea.
“Good morning, lass.”
“Morning,” Ryn mumbled, as her cheeks heated up. Didn’t they do this already?
Sophie seemed to be staring awfully hard at the eggs she was cracking. Apparently, the eggs were funny, because she was smiling at them, too.
Tuck turned to Deydie, acting natural and comfortable around her, except the throbbing vein at his temple gave him away. “So what brings ye here today?”
“We’ve schedule a new quilt retreat for Whussendale. We got a call this morning from the quilters in Dumfries, but Gandiegow is already booked for that weekend.” Deydie’s cheeks squished up into a smile. “Ryn did such a fine job before, I wanted to let her take care of this retreat, too.”
“Nay,” Tuck said calmly. “The lass needs to heal. Doc MacGregor said so. Running another retreat would be too much for her.”
Deydie shook her head. “Bah. She’ll be grand. It’s nearly a month away. Besides, the Whussendale quilters will help. Right, Sophie?”
“Sure, but…” The toast popped up and she busied herself with grabbing the butter, while Tuck took over again.
“Ryn will sit this one out.” His voice was strong and firm.
Ryn felt a little like a rag doll, being pulled this way and that. At the same time, by the way they were talking around her, she was pretty sure they’d forgotten she was in the room.
Deydie stood and glared up at Tuck. “What business is it of yours, Tuck MacBride?” Her head bounced with authority as she spoke.
Sophie jumped into the fray, defending the big Scot, as if he was helpless to do so. “Tuck has been helping us take care of Ryn.”
Ryn was tired of being a bystander in this conversation. “Hold on a second.” To start, she nodded to Tuck. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve got this.” Then she addressed Deydie. “Tell me what you’re talking about specifically. What would be my duties? Planning? Setting up? Teaching?”
Deydie gave her that scary grin. “Ye’re a spunky lass, though, ye still look like hell. Lay back down. We’ll talk while ye keep yere feet up.”
Ryn’s brain was spinning. This is perfect! Running another retreat would keep her busy. She wouldn’t have time to pine over Tuck, dream about their unrealistic future together, and while away the hours fantasizing over the intimate things she and Tuck could get up to together.
“I’ll do it,” Ryn said, sincerely glad Deydie had dropped in unexpectedly.
“Lass,” Tuck started.
Ryn put her hand up. “It’ll be fine. I have almost a month. I can start today. I’ll make notes from my bed.”
Tuck didn’t look happy.
But tough. Ryn had her heart to protect and her sanity to maintain.
“We’ll all be here to help ye,” Sophie said, bringing four plates to the small table.
“Nay,” Deydie said. “Ye’re the Laird’s wife and the kiltmaker’s apprentice. We won’t take any more of yere time. Ye have plenty to do already.” Her eyes went to the ceiling, as if an idea had just popped into her head. “I’ll send ye someone from Gandiegow to help.” She acted as if she had the perfect person in mind.
Tuck downed his tea and then frowned at the room, before zeroing in on Ryn. “I see ye have everything under control here. I’ve things to do.”
“What about breakfast?” Sophie asked.
“I’m going to have coffee with Willoughby.” Tuck left.
Ridiculously, Ryn wished he’d kissed her goodbye, something he’d done every time he’d left the cottage in the last four days.
But today is a new beginning, she reminded herself.
Sophie shot her a worried expression. “The eggs are done, Ryn. I’ll fix ye a tray.”
“No.” Ryn slid out of bed. “It’s time I get back to normal.”
Over the next week and a half, Ryn got better. Not only physically, but she’d gotten more rational, too. Yes, she’d gone temporarily boy-crazy over Tuck MacBride, but she was recovering, keeping her emotions in check. Most of the time anyway.
And she wasn’t doing a half-bad job of keeping Tuck at a distance, too. Every day before she saw him, she deliberately turned her emotions from hot-for-him to cold and chilly. His warmth was so enticing and she needed her cool composure for protection against his amazing kisses, loving arms, and his generous nature.
By the sideway glances Tuck was giving her, he’d noticed the change. She expected him to take the hint, but instead, he only tried harder to make her happy. Which only made her more melancholy. She successfully dodged his every question of Is everything all right? She responded with her version of the truth, I’m fine, just busy.
She was busy with the upcoming retreat, but she wasn’t fine. She was wretched and depressed. She missed the wonderfulness of her budding relationship with Tuck. She missed him sleeping beside her at night. She missed how happy she felt, before she figured out they didn’t have a shot of being together in the future.
She tried to hold the truth close so she wouldn’t be pulled back in again. They couldn’t be a couple, now that she understood his deepest disappointment. Sure, he’d gotten over the fact she and Elspeth resembled each other. But it was so much more than that. Ryn could never let on how deep their similarities ran. What else they had in common. For if Tuck knew the truth, Ryn couldn’t bear for him to look at her with the same loathing he clearly held on to for dear life for his ex.
19
Tuck walked into the weaving building, wearing his kilt and his tool belt, but had more on his mind than fixing machinery. He needed to fix whatever had gone wrong between him and Ryn.
It had been a little over two weeks since Ryn had come
home from the hospital. Things had turned weird between them, and had become more awkward with each passing day. He had no idea what had happened to make things turn bad between them. The more he tried to make things right, the more she withdrew. It was starting to feel like the Elspeth fiasco all over again. Except without the pregnancy.
Tuck put in earplugs and walked through the facility to find the machine which was down. As he walked through the mill, he waved to a couple of workers who looked up and nodded to him. Whussendale was beginning to feel like home.
Tuck found machine three, assessed the situation, and clamped a pair of vice grips on to loosen a bolt. He blindly reached for the rubber mallet on the floor behind him and was surprised when it was placed into his hand. He spun around to find John with a frown on his face.
Tuck was utterly speechless, which was fine. He couldn’t be heard above the machinery anyway. He took the mallet and pounded on the handle of the vice grips, trying to loosen the bolt, but really he was trying to get a grip on the situation. Why was John here?
Tuck had seen John around the village the last couple of weeks, wearing the mandatory Whussendale wool mill tartan and logoed shirt. Tuck knew John was working for Hugh in the office, and Tuck had steered clear of him. But why in the hell was he here now?
John pointed and yelled above the noise, “Did you check the cam?”
Indeed, there was a chunk of fluff caught in the cam. “Thanks.” John just saved him from taking the blasted machine apart.
For the next half hour they worked in tandem to get the next problem machine back in perfect working order. And they did it with as little communication as humanly possible.
John checked his watch. “I have to go.” And he walked away.
“That was strange,” Tuck muttered under his breath. He still couldn’t believe John would help him…of all people. And then to leave so abruptly. But his leaving could be more easily explained. Tuck figured he was off to physical therapy or some other kind of doctor’s appointment. Tuck worked the rest of the day alone.
For the next two weeks, he kept his head down, pulling nets for part of the day and working at the wool mill for the other part. Every day, John would join him to help fix the machinery, somedays leaving early for an appointment, other days, staying until the evening meal. They never spoke much, except about the task at hand, which reminded him of working on the boat with John. With each passing day, Tuck was getting more comfortable with John, and he definitely wasn’t going to complain. Having another soul to help troubleshoot the equipment was priceless.
All the while, Tuck couldn’t keep his mind off of Ryn. Things still weren’t back to where they were. When he’d tried to kiss her an hour ago, she’d turned her head away so fast from him, that he missed her lips and grazed her shoulder. He wanted to say What the hell! But he headed over to Hugh’s office instead to pick up today’s work orders.
Outside the weaving building, Tuck opened the door but stopped when he heard his name called.
It was Lara. “Tuck, wait up. I’ve something to ask ye.”
Lara had been nice to him from the start, but she wanted more from him than he was prepared to give. Not now. Not ever.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Is the dishwasher broke again at the café? Or is there something wrong at the dye shack?”
She gave him a shy smile. “No, not that.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “It’s just there’s a céilidh in Lasswool, Friday night. I wondered if you wanted to go. With me.” She looked as if she was holding her breath.
The first thing that popped into his mind was I’m off the market. But he couldn’t say that. And by the way Ryn was acting, he was definitely still on the market, because she’d put him back on the shelf. Lara was a kind girl with a pretty smile. What would be the harm in doing something nice for her? By her anxious and expectant face, it would certainly make her happy for him to say yes. “Okay. Why not?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie come to a stop at the bottom of the hill.
With excitement, Lara grabbed his arm, leaned up, and kissed his cheek. “We’re going to have a great time. Ye’ll see.”
“Okay,” he said again, worried by the frown Sophie was giving him. “I better get inside and get to work.”
Lara smiled widely and swayed side to side as if her hips couldn’t help it. “See ye later.”
He ducked into the building, afraid Lara might throw air kisses to him next.
Immediately regret settled in. He’d just given hope to a lass who’d made moon-eyes at him from the beginning. He should go find her now and bow out. Quickly. Before he did any more damage.
It hit him then, the number of women he’d toyed with since he was seventeen, given hope to when he’d had no intention of committing to any of them. It didn’t matter he’d made it clear with each one from the start, how he wasn’t the marrying kind. They’d all thought they could change him.
Magnus, the head weaver, joined him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad ye’re here. We need that machine up and going now. We’ve orders to fill.”
“Aye,” Tuck replied. He couldn’t go find Lara now, but as soon as the day was over, he’d break the date. Maybe by then, he’d know just the right words to let her down gently.
John joined him and they worked on the loom for the next two hours. When it was running again, Tuck checked his watch and then put his tools away. If he was going to make the afternoon tide, he’d have to leave now. His other chores would have to wait until later.
“Heading to Gandiegow?” John asked. Apparently, he knew the tide schedule for today, too.
Tuck nodded.
“Are ye coming back to Whussendale afterward?” John seemed pretty chatty for him.
“Aye. I’m coming back to Whussendale.” Tuck had to check in on Ryn and see if she needed anything from him. But recent history showed she wouldn’t. He was in unchartered waters with her. She needed nothing from him, but he needed everything from her.
“I’ll go with ye.” John walked away, leaving Tuck to grab his tools and to wonder what was going to happen next.
They met up at the car a short while later, as Tuck had to change into his dungarees first. John had his rain jacket in his sole hand—the same jacket Tuck had seen him wear a hundred times on the boat. John means to go fishing. Tuck wanted to ask him if that was a wise idea. And dammit, it was too late to slip away and text Ross or Ramsay to tell them what John planned to do.
Well, Ross would know soon enough, as he and Tuck were to pull the nets together this afternoon. But not if I don’t get a move on.
As soon as they got in the car, Tuck turned on the radio to help with the silence. It didn’t matter though. John seemed to have slipped inside himself as he stared out the front window.
When they arrived in Gandiegow, John exited the car and started walking into the village. Tuck quickly pulled out his phone on his way to the boot of the car to retrieve his Wellies. Before he could dial though, Andrew hailed him from the edge of the car park.
“Can I talk to ye a second?” Andrew asked, coming toward him.
“A second is all I have. I don’t want to be late.” Tuck pointed to John’s back.
Andrew nodded with understanding. “I’ll walk with you to the boat.”
They took off at a quick pace.
“I was going to ask after Ryn, but first, I have to know what John is up to. Is he here to make up with Maggie?”
“Nay. I believe he’s going fishing,” Tuck said wryly.
“Fishing? Did his doctor approve it?”
Tuck stared over at his brother with a look of disbelief. “As if John would confide in me? I still can’t believe he wanted to catch a ride with me to Gandiegow! I have no idea what the hell he’s up to.”
Tuck saw John was almost to the boat and it was too late to call his brothers.
“And Ryn is fine. She is working on the next retreat with Sophie and Lara. How are Maggie and the kids doing?”
“She’s keeping to her cottage. Moira and Amy delivered groceries to her, but Maggie wouldn’t visit, saying she had a headache and had to lie down. Everyone is taking turns watching Irene. And Ross and Ramsay are taking Dand off Maggie’s hands to give the lad some exercise.”
Tuck motioned to the boat. “We’ll talk later. I’m going to run ahead.”
“Go on,” Andrew said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Aye.” Tuck hurried the last few steps to the dock, watching as John held on tightly while stepping aboard.
Tuck made it to the boat a moment later, just as Ross came out of the wheelhouse.
“John?” Ross said, clearly confused. He looked over at Tuck questioningly.
“He hitched a ride with me,” Tuck answered.
Noise down below rose up as Ramsay and Dand made their way up on deck.
“Da!” Dand ran toward him, but stopped short from hugging him, as if remembering their last encounter.
John clutched the mast, steadying himself as he went down on one knee, opening his arms in invitation.
Dand carefully stepped into the embrace.
John balanced Dand on his knee. “Listen, son. I’m sorry about before. I never should’ve yelled at ye as I did. For a while, ye’ll have to be careful around yere ole da. Just until my arm heals.”
Dand nodded and slowly reached a hand out, hovering over the Ace bandage sleeve. “Does it hurt all the time?”
“Not so much,” John said.
Dand’s eyes looked earnestly into his father’s. “Are ye here to go fishing?”
“Aye,” John said, seeming surprised by his own answer.
Dand looked up at his uncle. “Can I go fishing, too, Uncle Ramsay? Pleeease!”
Tuck saw the look of hurt on John’s face. It had to sting that his son had deferred to his brother, instead of getting permission from him, his father. But what could John expect?
Ramsay tousled his hair. “I’ll text yere mum that ye’ll be with us.”
John looked up a Ramsay with a slight shake of his head. The meaning was clear: Don’t tell Maggie I’m here.
Brodie stepped onto the boat. “Ye have a boatload today, Ross.” He scanned the deck. “Anyone want to help me this afternoon instead?”
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