Sadie's Highlander

by Maeve Greyson

  “She does do it. All the damn time.” Alec tightened his fists ’til his knuckles popped. What a fine mess. This day had gotten off to a roaring start.

  Grant, Ramsay, and Ross rose from their chairs, each of them grinning like a cat who’d just cleaned up every drop of cream from the larder pans.

  “Yer on yer own, brother,” Grant said with a sly wink as he followed Ramsay and Ross to the staircase. Their deep, rumbling chuckles echoed back into the kitchen as they descended to the main landing and headed off to start their day.

  “I leave ye to the care of yer brother, Esme.” Sarinda smiled at her scowling daughter. “Dinna be too hard on him.” She scooped up her journal, then politely nodded at Sadie. “I’d be most appreciative if ye could see that these two dinna kill each other today.”

  Sadie nodded, then gave Sarinda a smile that fanned Alec’s irritation even more. The woman was struggling to keep from laughing. She thought this situation amusing? She’d soon discover what an unreasonable, caterwauling little vixen Esme could be.

  Alec turned his attention back to Esme, struggling against the urge to either tan the child’s arse or lock her in her room—without the damnable television. “Yer comin’ with us today. Finish yer breakfast, then go put on something warmer—and presentable,” he added. He ground a knuckle against his temple, massaging it in a slow circular motion. Dealin’ with Esme of late always made his head pound.

  “What if I don’t want to?” Esme snarled.

  “I didna ask yer druthers, ye vicious wee—”

  “Enough!” Sadie clapped her hands. “Both of you. Back to your corners.” She turned to Alec first. “Ask her. Don’t order.” At the sound of Esme’s victorious snicker, she whirled in her seat and faced the young girl. “And you need to stop poking the bear. Haven’t you ever heard that you catch more flies with honey?”

  Alec bit down on the side of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. He’d not seen such a wide-eyed look of disbelief on Esme’s face since she’d reached the dreaded teenage years. Sadie had managed the impossible. She’d rendered the sharp-tongued teenager speechless.

  Sadie took in a deep breath and slowly blew it out as she reached out and lightly touched Esme’s shoulder. “You’ll get ahead in this world a lot easier if you work with people instead of trying to force them. You know your brothers are stubborn. Making them do anything they don’t want to do is like trying to push a wet noodle up a wall.”

  “They’re wet noodles all right,” Esme huffed. “They never want to let me do anything.”

  “It’s because they love you and you know it.” Sadie leaned closer to Esme, her voice dropping so low Alec could barely make out her words. “You’re very lucky to have such a caring family. Not everyone does.”

  She belongs here. Alec swallowed hard as the realization settled over him. What a mother she’d be to our children. Children. He’d ne’er really thought about fathering children before. He sucked in a deep breath. Perhaps his earlier thoughtlessness about the condoms was his inner soul’s way of pointing him to that path. And judging by Sadie’s reaction when he’d attempted to make amends, he’d muddled it badly. Dinner last night had been frustratingly strained. She’d hardly said a word to him, pointedly ignoring him as she and Esme chattered away like reunited friends.

  Alec silently counted backwards in Gaelic, willing himself to calm down to tactical planning mode. He had some fences to mend and perhaps wee Esme could help, since it was quite obvious that Sadie liked the girl. He leaned forward, gentling his tone as he held out a hand to his sister. “I give ye m’word. I’ll do m’best to start treating ye like a young adult rather than a child.”

  Esme just glared down at Alec’s extended hand, her lower lip sticking out even farther.

  “Esme.” Sadie nudged the young girl’s arm. “Come on. You’ve got to meet him halfway. That’s what adults do.”

  “Fine.” Esme gripped Alec’s hand and pumped it up and down. “I’ll do my best to behave as long as you stop acting like a pompous addle-pated numpty.”

  “No wonder she got a B in algebra,” Sadie observed. “It’s obvious literature is her strong suit. Good vocabulary, Esme.”

  Before Alec could comment, Sadie waved Esme toward the back stairwell leading up to the level of the keep containing the family’s suite of bedrooms. “Hurry and get changed into something warmer. You’ll freeze to death in that skimpy tunic and those thin leggings. Filming starts early. I think the first scene was scheduled for sunrise, so they’ve already been at it for a couple of hours by now.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Esme dashed across the room and up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

  “She didna argue.” Alec sat back in his chair, stunned by the ease with which Sadie had just handled Esme. “How the hell did ye manage that? Dealin’ with Esme is usually like strokin’ an angry hedgehog.”

  “I’m not a threat in the pecking order around here.” Sadie finished her coffee and rose from her seat. “She’s the baby with four bossy older brothers. She feels like she’s always got something to prove. Give her time and try not to wring her neck. She’s a good kid. She’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not her I’m worried about.” Alec shook his head as they headed down the winding staircase to the foyer. “ ’Tis the rest of us survivin’ that concerns me.” He held open the door, peering up at the murky sky above the treetops. A storm was comin’ and the wind had a wintry bite to it. The weather forecast had called for rain again today, but he wouldna be surprised if a healthy dose of sleet and perhaps a bit of light snow was in the mix as well. “Yer sister will make her movie in this weather?”

  Sadie laughed as she hopped into the passenger side of the Jeep. “The movie is set in Scotland. This weather’s perfect.”

  A gust of wind slammed a spattering of raindrops hard against the windshield. Alec pointed at the minuscule bits of ice sliding down the glass. “The ground is still warm enough to keep the roads from freezin’ but that ice will coat everything else. How will her crew protect all those contraptions they were draggin’ about?”

  “Geez, it’s colder than a well-digger’s butt today! I’m glad you suggested I change.” Esme slammed the back door of the Jeep closed, then clicked her seatbelt across her lap.

  “Colder than a well-digger’s butt?” Sadie repeated, a perplexed look arching her brows to her hairline.

  “One of Mistress Lydia’s many sayings, only Esme cleaned it up a bit.” Alec winked at Esme in the rearview mirror. “Well done, lass. I appreciate ye refrainin’ from using the word arse.”

  His heart warmed as his little sister gifted him with a genuine smile. Aye and for certain, Sadie belongs here—with me. She’s a good tonic for us all.

  The warm feeling left him as they neared the location for the day’s filming. Just a few more miles and the outsiders would be well within the forbidden perimeter of land surrounding Castle Danu. Alec was not pleased. He’d made it quite clear that Realm Spinners Productions was to go nowhere near the castle.

  “They’ve made a mess of things and they’re too damn close to the castle.” Alec stopped the Jeep on the narrow shoulder of the road. “Look at the way they’ve trashed and rutted the land.”

  The trucks hauling the heavy equipment—the booms, camera trolleys, lighting equipment, and generators—had cut through the soft rain-soaked ground, leaving deep, gaping furrows crisscrossed down the hillside. The rising winds had ripped the sheets of clear plastic free of the equipment, sending the tangled mess flapping and rolling across the muddied clumps of turf until it snagged around the trunks of nearby trees.

  “I’ll make sure it’s all cleaned up.” Sadie’s voice sounded sad and hollow. Her face was drawn and pale in the weak light of the dreary day. “I promise. We’ll make it right even if I have to clean it up myself.”

  “Who is that?” Esme scooted up between the front seats and pointed toward a scowling man stomping across the field. Struggling to keep up with th
e angry man’s long stride and keep an umbrella over his head was a short, pudgy male who greatly resembled a wet sheepdog. His shaggy mop of gray hair was plastered to his face and dripping strands were stuck across the thick lenses of his wire-framed glasses. It was a wonder the poor man could see at all.

  “That’s Delia’s Highland hero and the assistant that’s supposed to be keeping him happy,” Sadie said.

  “He looks pissed,” Esme observed.

  “Esme!” Alec turned in his seat. “A young lady doesna use the word pissed.” Although, he had to admit, Esme had made an accurate observation.

  “Well he does,” Esme defended. “Just look at him.”

  “Aye,” Alec agreed. “He’s also dressed wrong if this film is supposed to be takin’ place in the thirteenth century. That type of kilt and waistcoat that man’s a-wearin’ didna appear in Scotland before the sixteenth century.”

  “I tried to explain that to Delia,” Sadie said, “but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that these costumes are what viewers expect.”

  A bedraggled-looking woman, cheeks overly rouged, mascara running down one cheek and voluptuous bosoms about to jiggle free of her loosely laced gown, stumbled across the rough terrain with an umbrella clutched in one hand and a lit cigarette pinched between the fingers of the other. Her pale face pulled into an even sharper scowl as she took a deep hit off the cigarette, then huffed the smoke out her nose.

  “There’s a whore in this movie?” Alec folded his hands atop the steering wheel. The more he learned about this film, the less he desired to see the finished product.

  “She’s not the whore. She’s the laird’s wife.” Sadie shrugged. “She just looks a little rough right now because she’s out of character. I’m sure they’ll clean her up before the next scene.”

  “No laird’s wife would e’er be seen outside her bedchamber looking like that. And only courtesans painted themselves so.” Alec shook his head, started the Jeep, and pulled back onto the road. “I’ve seen enough for today. I must speak with Dwyn immediately. He’ll be contacting your sister regarding the condition of this area.” He glanced at Esme in the rearview mirror. “Would ye be willin’ to help Sadie find a costume for a proper lady of the Highlands whilst I track down Dwyn?”

  “Sure,” Esme said with a smile. “I’ll get her all fitted out so she can educate her sister and the rest of these Hollywood types on the difference between a Highland lady and a Highland whore.”

  Chapter 15

  “No panties?”

  Esme shook out the folds of the full skirt and stepped back, examining Sadie with a critical eye. “No panties. A Scot always goes commando.”

  Sadie pressed her chilly goosebump-covered thighs together, then turned back and forth in front of the full-length mirror, attempting to get used to the weave of the fabric swishing across her bare ass. What an odd sensation. She’d gone commando in leggings, but never in a dress—well, maybe a nightie, but that was for a different reason altogether. Or was it?

  A deliciously warm shiver zipped through her. Alec had to have known about this Highland standard of no undies. Was that why he’d suggested they wear authentic garb this evening? She lightly coughed, forcing her erotic anticipation to stand down and behave. “This just feels weird. And you’d think they would’ve knitted wool underwear or something to keep them warm in the winter.”

  Esme gave her a mischievous wink. “Their braw Highlanders kept them plenty warm and panties would’ve just gotten in the way.”

  “Your brother would die if he heard you talk like that.” Sadie giggled as she smoothed her hands down the tightly laced kirtle hugging her torso. Esme was like the sister she’d always dreamed of having. The sweet young girl was the polar opposite of cruelly snarky Delia.

  Ignoring Sadie’s comment about Alec, Esme held out a pair of stockings. “Here. Put these on. These lighter weaves are really for spring and summer wear but the wool itches like a fiend. I can’t stand the things and don’t think you’d like them either. Be sure and tie the ribbons tight around your thighs or they’ll be down around your ankles before you know it.” She brushed aside Sadie’s skirt and frowned down at her feet. “What size shoe do you wear? You’ll need some slippers or boots to complete the look.”

  “Size nine and a half or ten, depending on how they’re made.” Sadie inwardly cringed, waiting for Esme to either stare at her in dropped-jaw amazement or make a snide remark—that’s what usually happened whenever she discussed shoe or clothing sizes with a much smaller female. The only things smaller than a size sixteen in Sadie’s belongings were her shoes, and they were still the size of cruise ships.

  Esme didn’t display either reaction, just slowly walked in front of the wall of neatly stacked shoe boxes, her lips moving silently as she read the labels. “There’s a pair.” She stretched on tiptoe and wiggled a box free, then scooted the ones that had been stacked atop it back in place. She flipped open the lid, rummaged through the tissue, and proffered a pair of ankle-high boots. “These are tens but they’re cut narrow, so I’m guessing you’ll need the larger size for the toe room.”

  “Thank you.” Sadie accepted the buttery-soft suede boots that had been dyed a rich, earthy brown. They were the perfect accompaniment for the sage-green dress Esme had chosen. She wiggled her toes into the footwear, then laced the boots up tightly. “These remind me of a pair of moccasins I once had. They’re so comfortable.” And they were. Lightly cushioned and the leather so supple it fit like a second skin, Sadie happily put on the other boot.

  She shook her skirts back in place and slowly turned in front of the mirror. Not too bad. She’d expected to look as big as a house in the sixteenth-century garb, but the tightly laced kirtle and the cut of the skirt’s waist didn’t make her look bigger at all. In fact, her full bosoms mounding at the squared neckline and the tapered kirtle hugging her torso actually complemented her generous curves. She held up her hands and met Esme’s gaze in the mirror. “What do you think—honestly.” If she looked like an overdressed Highland cow, she’d rather hear it from Esme than see it in Alec’s eyes.

  Esme grinned. “I think you look great.” Her friendly grin blossomed into an impish smile. “And I think Alec’s gonna have a hard time keeping his kilt from sticking out like a flag in a stiff breeze when he gets a gander at that cleavage.”

  “Esme!” Sadie couldn’t help but snicker as she scolded. “You shouldn’t be saying stuff like that. You’re just fifteen years old.”

  “Máthair was just fourteen when she married Da and by the time she was fifteen, Alec was already born.” Esme winked. “I may not be as experienced as Máthair, but I’m not some naïve bampot who thinks babies come from cabbage patches or storks.”

  “She married at fourteen?” Sadie stared at Esme in amazement. She’d known Sarinda looked extremely young to have a son Alec’s age, but she had no idea the woman was only fifty years old.

  Esme nodded. “Yep. Of course, Da was twenty-four when they wed, so I guess you could say he had enough experience for them both.”

  “That’s statutory rape.” Sadie clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She wouldn’t do anything in the world to hurt Esme’s feelings. “I’m sorry. I meant no offense. Your parents seem very happy.” And they did—even though poor Emrys was somewhat addled now and Sarinda seemed to be more his caregiver than his wife.

  A strange look settled across Esme’s face, one that Sadie couldn’t quite read, but it looked as though the girl was troubled or had something to hide. Esme’s gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled in a deep breath, then softly blew out the words, “It was a different time and place when my parents married. It was in Scotland—a long time ago.”

  “Oh well, that explains it.” Sadie nodded, making an effort to ignore the suddenly tense air between them and return them both to the easy comradery of just a few moments ago. “Is Alec going to pick us up when we’re finished here or are we supposed to walk back to the keep?�
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  Esme nodded toward the rain-spattered window. “It’s still pretty nasty out. Since we’re done here, I’ll call Ross and Ramsay. I’ve got a violin lesson this afternoon and Ross promised he’d take me. Ramsay can take you back to the keep and you can surprise Alec when he gets home.”

  “Violin? Really?” Sadie gathered up her street clothes and stuffed them into the tote Esme provided from behind the costume shop’s counter. For some odd reason, she just couldn’t picture fiery-tempered, impatient Esme playing the violin.

  “Sure.” Esme nodded as she shook out her raincoat and put it on. “We all play several different musical instruments, but Alec’s the best. He can play any instrument he gets his hands on. I’d never tell him to his face, but he’s truly gifted. He gets that from Máthair. Neither of them can read music, but we’ve yet to find a song they can’t play if they hear it just once.”

  Sadie remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on Alec, swinging a monstrous sword—a weapon few men could wield—in a graceful arc over his head. Who would’ve thought that her brawny, uber-alpha Highlander was also a musical virtuoso? “Do you think he’d play for me if I asked?”

  Esme laughed and nodded toward Sadie’s generous bosoms mounding above the dark green ribbon trimming her squared neckline. “I’m sure you could find a way to convince him to play the fiddle or the pipes for you. You said he’s going to give you a tour of Castle Danu. He keeps his favorite instruments there. Plays them when he’s up there pondering about what could’ve been—or so he says.”

  “What could’ve been?” That sounded ominous. Did Alec fill Castle Danu with the mournful cry of the fiddle over some long-lost love? Sadie swallowed hard. How could she compete against such a memory? And did she really even want to try? After all, she was only here for six weeks or so. Just until the main scenes were filmed and finished up. Then it was back to California, where she belonged. Maybe. Lately, the thought of returning to LA gave her heartburn—or was it heartache? Sadie shook away the troubling thought and concentrated on Esme. “What do you mean what could’ve been?”