Tuck nodded to them both. “Have ye seen Lara? I stopped by the dye shack, the café, and her place. I can’t find her. And I need to speak with her now.”
Sophie peered at Ryn and raised an eyebrow, giving her an I-told-you-so look. Her eyes conveyed another message: You better lock him down tight quickly, or you’re going to regret it. But maybe that was just Ryn’s imagination.
Ryn felt stupid, as if she’d shrunk to two-inches tall. How could Tuck come in here and confirm so boldly his budding relationship with Lara? Especially, after what he and Ryn had shared! Even though the fault lay with her—for she had pushed him away—anger rose up inside.
Ryn lashed out, wanting to show Tuck she didn’t give two pennies about his new affair. “We heard Lara is off to Inverness, buying a new dress for her date with you. You really need to keep track of your women. Perhaps a spreadsheet of their comings and goings would help.”
“What?” Tuck looked stricken. “Shite.” He shook his head. “Listen, Ryn—”
But Ryn had picked up her glass of water and was marching for the door. “Sophie, I’ll see you later. I’m hungry. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Her appetite had disappeared, soured by bad news. She stomped off toward the kitchen.
Two seconds later, Tuck caught up to her, gently taking her arm and bringing her to a stop. “Hold up.”
Ryn pulled away, pretty sure she was going to blubber if he spoke to her. “Not now, Tuck. I’m not in the mood.” She went into the kitchen, but was afraid he might come after her, so she ran straight out the back door.
She needed a few moments alone to pull herself together. Sophie had mentioned a cabin in the woods and had even pointed out the direction. Ryn wasn’t sure she could find it, but anything was better than standing around here, waiting for Tuck to see her cry.
She walked across the driveway toward what looked like a path and slipped in between the trees. The act of walking with a purpose—being intent on finding this cabin—brought Ryn’s thoughts into line. Physical therapy for the broken hearted, she thought ruefully. The farther she went, the clearer the path seemed—on both how to get to the cabin, and how she would spend the rest of her time in Scotland.
Ryn wouldn’t take this Lara-Tuck thing lying down. She wasn’t a wimp. She had to do something. It might not be right, but Lara couldn’t have Tuck. At least not now, while Ryn was alive and breathing in Scotland.
The forest opened into a clearing and on the other side sat the rustic, but quaint cabin. She slowed her pace and walked toward it, thinking about her plan.
Though she couldn’t have a future with Tuck, she could have him for the meantime. He could be part of her life…until she left.
She wanted his companionship. She wanted him in her bed. And for once in her life, she wouldn’t be some dreamy-eyed woman who fantasized about finding her one true love. Or have them nestled into a four bedroom house and growing old together, before dessert had been served on their first official date. She was going into this brief torrid affair with her eyes wide open.
Of course, someone would have to tell Lara to lay off Tuck. Ryn appointed herself to deliver the news!
She made her way across the field and knocked on the cabin door. When no one answered, she looked around first before going in. But she wasn’t alone. Tuck stood on the other side of the field, gazing at her with his hands on his hips.
She stood her ground, staring back…eyes wide open. He treaded toward her and didn’t slow down when he got near. When he stepped onto the cabin’s porch, he gently gathered her into his arms and kissed her…the first real kiss they’d had since they’d made out in her cottage many nights ago. She didn’t push him away and he certainly didn’t seem as if he was letting go anytime soon.
The kiss went on and on, becoming more passionate with each second. Ryn felt good about her decision to be with Tuck…for now. Of course, the kiss might’ve had something to do with sealing her resolve.
Finally, Tuck eased back a little, cupping her neck. “Why did ye leave so quickly, luv? It used to be I didn’t mind a little cat and mouse.” He brushed back her hair. “But I don’t want games between us, Ryn.” He paused as if he wanted her to absorb that truth. “You have it all wrong why I need to speak with Lara.”
Anger at hearing Lara’s name made Ryn pull away. At the same time, her phone dinged that a text had come in. She ignored it. She and Tuck had business to discuss. “You have to tell Lara that the date is off.”
He grinned at Ryn. “Aye.”
“I mean it. I don’t want to play games either,” she said.
Tuck smoothed her hair, as if he was trying to ease away her ruffled feathers. “Don’t worry. That’s the reason I was looking for Lara. I needed to cancel.” He took a deep breath, as if an explanation was coming. “Immediately after agreeing to go with her to the céilidh, I knew I couldn’t do it. Because of you. Because of me and you together.” He paused, giving Ryn plenty of eye contact. “But, luv, ye have to understand why I considered Lara’s offer. Ye haven’t exactly been the most welcoming of lasses in the last several weeks.”
Ryn nodded. “Yes. I know. I’m sorry.”
This time Ryn’s phone jangled with a call. Once again, she ignored it.
Tuck pointed to her ringing pocket. “Do ye need to take it?”
“This isn’t the time,” Ryn said.
“Ye have more important things to do?” He took her into his arms again.
“Aye.” She leaned in, pressed herself against him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Kiss me, Tuck.”
He laughed as he bent down to oblige. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
And yes, Ryn wanted him.
The kiss was full of promise. A kiss like theirs could only lead to one thing—making love.
As Tuck’s lips moved to her neck, planting a row of kisses there, Ryn issued out another order. “Inside the cabin. Now.” She hoped there was a bed where they could consummate their torrid affair. And wouldn’t it be romantic if he carried her over the threshold?
But that kind of thinking was what had gotten her into trouble from the moment she first noticed boys…beyond them pulling her pigtails and her stealing their GI Joes. Ken had nothing on those soldiers.
Tuck shook his head and seemed reluctant to stop kissing her, but he did. “Nay. We can’t be together. Not yet. I have to speak with Lara first to make things clear.”
Ryn looked at him, hoping he would be specific on how he meant to make things clear. In her experience, most men didn’t understand the concept of the word.
“I’m taken,” he said, pinning a bow on Ryn’s hope. They were on the same page.
Ryn’s phone rang again.
“Answer it,” he said. “It must be important for them to keep calling and texting.
Caller ID showed it was Sophie and Ryn answered.
Sophie jumped right in. “Are ye okay? Where are you? I went to your cottage, but ye’re not there.”
Ryn glanced up at Tuck. “I’m standing outside the cabin. I hope it’s okay that I came here.”
“Of course, it’s okay. You can use the cabin anytime. Are ye alone?”
“No,” Ryn said truthfully.
Sophie’s smile could be heard through the phone. “Good. But let Tuck know Lara just arrived back in town.”
* * *
Tuck watched as Ryn’s frown grew. What had Sophie just said? Ryn hung up and didn’t keep him waiting.
“I have a message for you,” she said. “Lara’s back in Whussendale.”
Tuck pulled Ryn into his arms and hugged her. “There’s no reason to feel jealous. I told ye where I stand. Lara is a nice lass and she’s owed an explanation from me, that’s all.”
“I know.” Ryn pouted.
“Come on. Head back to the castle with me.”
“No. Not right now. While I’m here, I want to go in and check out the cabin.”
“Are ye sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll return to Kilheath soon. Coira will be looking for me. And I still have a lot to do to get ready for the retreat.”
“Tonight then?” he sounded eager to his own ears.
She smiled at him. “Yes. Tonight.”
He kissed her goodbye and left her standing outside the cabin as he walked back across the field.
He pulled out his phone and texted Lara: Can you meet me at the café in 15 minutes?
Tuck really wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. But he’d been rash and now he had to let Lara down as gently as he could. An idea floated down from heaven, as if the Almighty had taken mercy on him.
Tuck rang up Declan.
“Do you have plans this Friday night?” Tuck asked.
“I don’t know. Why?” Declan said suspiciously.
“Ye know Lara?”
“Aye,” Declan said.
“Can ye take her to the céilidh in Lasswool on Friday?”
“That’s a strange question coming from ye, as word around the wool mill is that ye’re taking Lara yereself.” Declan could be such a smartass.
Tuck sighed. “Do me a favor, mate. Ye take Lara and I’ll owe you one. She’s a nice lass.”
“Tell me why ye’re not taking her yereself.” Declan seemed to want to dig in and annoy Tuck more.
“I realized I wasn’t free,” Tuck said honestly.
“The American lass?” Declan replied. “Gossip is ye’re quite the stud for having two women on the ropes.”
“Just one,” Tuck said. “Just Ryn.” I’m off the market. And the thought made Tuck smile. “I’m on my way to speak to Lara now. Can I tell her ye’ll take my place? That’s, of course, if she’ll have ye.”
“Sure, I’ll take her,” Declan said. “As ye said, she’s a nice lass.”
“Good man,” Tuck said. “We’ll talk later.” He rung off and made his way out of the woods.
The wool mill’s café only had five small round tables in the cramped dining area. Lara sat at the back. Two teacups and two biscuits waited along with her. She gave him a wide smile and held up a shopping bag.
Tuck felt awful she’d bought a new dress for their date. He’d have to find a way to pay her back. He took his seat.
Lara grabbed his arm. “I can’t wait until Friday so ye can see my new outfit.” She beamed. “On sale, only twenty pounds!”
Tuck leaned forward. “I’m really sorry, Lara, but I’m going to have to break our date.”
“But only this morning…” Lara looked so disappointed.
“Aye. This morning. I misspoke.”
“It’s Ryn, isn’t it?” Lara sat back and used her thumb to point out the window, as if an apparition of Ryn stood there watching in. “She’s to blame.”
What could Tuck say that didn’t sound foolish—like my heart belongs to the American lass—or anything else that might hurt Lara more?
He told her the truth. “I’m to blame for not being clear within myself as to where I stood. But now I am. If ye’re willing, Declan would like to take my place at the céilidh. I spoke with him already about it.”
Lara crumbled her biscuit, bit by bit. “I guess I could go with Declan.” She glanced down at the shopping bag beside her.
“He’s a good man,” Tuck reminded her. “Definitely an upgrade from me, I’d say.”
He watched as she mulled over the idea of Declan. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“Am I forgiven?” Tuck asked.
“Aye, forgiven. But only if Declan is a good dancer, doesn’t step on my toes, and I have a good time.” She gave Tuck a small smile.
Tuck stood. “I’ll tell him to brush up on his dance moves before Friday. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He said goodbye and went to the counter to pay for their tea and biscuits. He added an extra twenty. “Can ye give this to Lara after I leave? Tell her the dress is on me. She’ll know what it means.”
As he walked outside, he stared in the direction of the castle, thinking of Ryn. Thinking of tonight. Thinking he really couldn’t wait!
He texted her: Tonight feels like an eternity away. Meet me at my cottage now?
He watched his screen for her reply, willing her answer to be positive. Within seconds, a message came in. His heart soared momentarily, but his good mood was dashed when he saw the text wasn’t from Ryn, but from John.
Can you take me to my appointment at the hospital?
When? Tuck asked.
Now.
Dammit! But he owed John.
Tuck texted Ryn back first. Sorry. John needs a ride to his appointment. I’ll see you tonight.
Ryn replied with both a sad face and a smiley face.
Tuck answered John. I’ll meet you at the car.
Minutes later, Tuck found John leaning against his vehicle. He seemed to be scrolling through the pictures on his phone. Tuck wanted to tell him to go home to see his wife and children in person…instead of on his phone.
“What’s wrong with you?” John asked.
Besides you cramping my love life? “Nothing,” Tuck said. “Ready?”
“Aye.” John pocketed his phone and got in the car.
Tuck felt a little guilty for having an attitude. “Physical therapy today?”
“Aye.”
Tuck turned on the radio, but John turned it off.
“How is the American lass feeling? Back to normal after her surgery?”
To Tuck, the question felt as if it had come from nowhere. “Ryn? She’s feeling much better.”
“I saw her a while ago, as she stormed out of the castle. She definitely had more fire in her than when we rode back from the hospital together.” He didn’t even pause. “Ye fancy her?”
Shocked, Tuck glanced John’s way and John stared back. The man’s eyes had mischief in them. Tuck hadn’t seen that much life in John since before the accident.
“Have ye gotten bored with helping around the wool mill and decided to start playing matchmaker now?” Immediately, Tuck wondered if the sarcastic response would hit John the wrong way. But dammit, everyone should quit pussy-footing around the man.
John’s grunt was part laugh. “Aye. Ye’re sweet on her. My brothers are quite happy with their American wives. I suppose ye will be, too.”
“What?” Tuck sputtered.
“Never mind.” John turned back on the radio, acting pleased with himself for rattling him. But then he turned the radio off, looking serious, all playfulness gone. “Don’t wait too long to tell her how ye feel. Do ye hear?
“Really?” Tuck shook his head. “Ye’ve got a lot of advice for me about my relationship, when ye’re a man living apart from yere own wife?”
He expected John to take his head off, but instead he exhaled deeply.
“Touché,” John said.
“How about we make a pact?” Tuck suggested.
“What kind of pact?” John asked skeptically.
“We should both work on winning over our prospective women.”
“I don’t know,” John said, sounding a bit defeated.
“What do you have to lose?” Tuck waited a moment, but John didn’t answer him. “Think about it, okay?”
John didn’t reply and was quiet for a while, which was fine with Tuck. He was consumed with what John had said. He cared about Ryn a lot. But marriage? He wasn’t that kind of bloke anymore. He wasn’t Andrew. Or John. Or any of the other happily married men in Gandiegow or Whussendale.
Tuck looked over at his companion and saw John’s melancholy draped over him like a veil. “Hey, on machine two, I noticed a couple of the headles need to be adjusted,” Tuck said. “Any suggestions on the best way to go about it, so the machine isn’t down too long?”
John’s blank stare turned to interest. “We could have a replacement shaft ready. Pop the old one out, put the new one in.”
The two of them discussed the upcoming maintenance for the rest of the trip, and Tuck couldn’t help but be amazed at how comfortable they’d become with ea
ch other.
When they reached the hospital, Tuck dropped off John and parked. Once inside, he bought a newspaper, which he carried to the lobby and read. Much later, John came through the double doors, looking worn and drawn. A jab of guilt hit Tuck, but it was nothing compared to the guilt he’d felt immediately after the accident. It occurred to him his guilt was waning. He wondered what that could mean.
Without speaking, Tuck folded his newspaper and followed John out to the car. For the first half of the trip back, the car was silent, except the sounds of the engine and the wheels on the road.
Tuck was so wrapped up in his own thoughts—Ryn, John’s trials, and what needed to be done at the wool mill—that when John spoke, his meaning didn’t register.
“What?” Tuck asked, glancing at him.
“I don’t blame ye,” John said quietly.
Tuck’s mind whirled. Surely, he isn’t talking about his injury. Tuck peeked at John out of his peripheral vision.
“The accident.” John stared straight ahead, as if seeing a different view out the front window than was actually there. “I know I aimed my anger at you, but I blame myself.”
Tuck didn’t know what to say.
John continued on, as if he had replied. “Aye, ye should’ve been there on time, but the truth is, I had a lot on my mind with Maggie being so upset over losing her da the night before. I was reckless and careless. And carelessness and fishing don’t mix.” John held out his amputated arm. “The fault is not yeres, ’tis mine.”
Tuck felt confused and oddly vulnerable. If I’m not to blame, then where does that leave me?
21
Ryn sat in the ballroom with Coira, Sophie, and someone new to her, Pence Everpenny. The four of them were working hard on the retreat for tomorrow. Well, at least three of them were. Ryn had a hard time focusing on the fabric lying in front of her. Like a boomerang, her thoughts kept returning to Tuck, instead of the looming quilt retreat ahead. Coira had to keep her on task, or else Ryn would still be sitting in the kitchen, staring off into space, dreaming about the evening activities planned with Tuck.
“Come now,” Coira chided, and not very kindly. She must’ve gone to the Deydie school of management. “Ye have to get those kits done or else the lassies from Dumfries will have nothing to work with when they get here in the morn.”
Blame It on Scotland Page 25