Edwina (36 page)

her point. Stomping off to the barn, he fed
the animals along- side Mr. Gillespie. “Laird Dunnegin, it is goot
to have ye aboot the place again.”

“Aye, it is good to be among my family and my
lands.”

“It is the way of the Scots.”

“Aye. ‘Tis the truth.” He clapped the man on
the shoulder, and pulling on his knee-high boots, helped put the
animals in the barn and clean the stalls.

“This is no work for a laird.” Mr. Gillespie
could not abide his employer working in the stalls.

“Well, I say a man who owns a place can work
it same as anybody.”

“Suit yourself, lad.”

They worked several hours without talking.
Alex realized he hadn’t worked up a good sweat in a long time.
Dabbing his forehead, then resting his arms on the rake, he saw her
coming.

She had on jeans and a pink T-shirt and was
headed their way. He watched from the darkness of the barn. Her
hair whipped about her face. It had gotten longer and she now
possessed a confident gait.

When she was almost there, he went back to
work. Best to let things lie for now. He needed to think and had
come out here to do it. And here she was. Working in a back corner,
he hoped to watch.

She went to Silsee’s stall and sat and petted
the lamb, talking and playing with it.

He revealed himself. “Oh, am I in the way?”
She started to get up.

“Sit, lass. Ye have duty to pet and play
mommy to thelamb?” Edwina couldn’t help but notice his green eyes
as they teased her. She looked down at her kneecaps.

“Aye. I promised.”

“The lass is clever indeed.”

Edwina couldn’t help but laugh and agree. “Is
she sleeping then?”

“Aye.”

“Cecelia tells me we are to go out and
celebrate your return and the good news, about Paige,” she
added.

“Aye. Will you be free?”

“You’re my employer. Tell me I have to go.”
She smiled.

“Good lass. Clever like my own bairn.”

“I’d better go find Cecelia.” She stood and
wiped the dust and hay from her clothing.

“Lass, in your hair . . .” He reached for a
piece of hay and tossed it off.

“
Thanks.” She headed for
the manor. Her heart hurt right in the middlemost part.

Chapter 56

“G
reat!” Cecelia and Spencer said at once.

“I’m in need of a commendable restaurant,”
her sister said excitedly. “Just like at home.”

“And I want to meet the chef, check out the
Scottish cooking style,” Spencer chimed in.

“Then off we go.” Alex Dunnegin said. Edwina
was surprised to see him dressed so casually.

The man lived in a suit. He wore navy dress
pants with a tan knit shirt.

Cecelia had on a print dress—casual, yet
elegant. Edwina had chosen her flowery skirt and matching cream
blouse. Spencer sported a black suede jacket over a white T-shirt
and jeans. With his spiked hair, he looked like a hip movie star.
The girls would be turning their heads tonight.

The foursome fit well enough, although
tightly, in the Scot’s black car. Reardon had to share the front
seat with Spencer. Edwina wondered if he had ever done that before.
Then she remembered Reardon and their fanciful experience in the
rusty red truck and almost threw herself into a fit of laughter
again.

The Scot ended up in the middle, the two
sisters on either side of him. Cecelia had not been able to keep
herself from talking about the thorn between two roses. The Scot
had said glancing each way, “One rose and one daisy.” She guessed
immediately she was the daisy, Cecelia the rose. It was true
enough.

She stared out the window, not because she
was jealous, but because the truth was so apparent to her now. But
God had given her a gift. The gift of freedom. She had learned so
much since leaving her hometown and stepping out. She no longer
needed to have everything in perfect order, nor did she need to
know where she was going next. Something would work out. Her only
regret would be the missing of Paige. Especially after the
accident.

But then, everything happened for a
reason—she was sure of that. She was no longer afraid to try new
things, to laugh a little... a lot, if the situation called for it.
She smiled at the thought. Then that would be what she would do.
She’d be off to try something new when the time came to leave.

Reardon slowed, pulled under the portico,
exited, and opened the doors, bowing slightly. He took out Cecelia
first, then came around to get her. She smiled as he held out his
gloved hand. To her amazement, he caught her eye and winked.

Reardon had winked at her.

They were being seated, and she still
couldn’t get that off her mind. Then he didn’t think badly of her
anymore? She was relieved. The man had character, and she had
always liked him.

She sat smiling like a cat with milk on her
whiskers.

Cecelia and Spencer took off to check out the
restaurant. They were going to take a long walk pretending to look
for the restrooms and in so doing, subtly view the presentations on
clients’ plates, decorations, cleanliness, and all other things
restaurateurs look for.

Meanwhile, the Scot was sitting across from
her, a smile resting easily on his face.

She kicked her shoes off, and one hit the
table leg. She looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

The Scot lifted the tablecloth and looked
underneath. She pulled her skirt over her knees and whispered,
“What are you doing?”

He sat up straight and gazed at her pink
face. He loved those blue eyes. Her saucy smile when she was
irritated and the way she looked away pretending he wasn’t
there.

“Edwina,” he called, but she refused to turn
her head.

Cecelia and Spencer came back to the table,
much to her relief. They began talking about all they’d learned.
Edwina and Alex sat in uncomfortable silence. What did the Scot
want anyway? He’d been acting strangely ever since he read her
story. Had he some joke to make or something? He kept his eyes on
her most of the evening.

If she had committed some faux pas, she
wanted to know about it. She cast her eyes about wildly trying to
avoid his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying her misery. And for that
she was going to pay him back.

Suddenly she felt a kick. She pretended not
to notice. Then it happened again. She did not want to be rude, but
who was... It was the Scot! His face was telling. Footsie under the
table, it was then, eh? She’d show him.

She scooted back and wound her stockinged
feet around her chair legs where he could not reach them. Such
goings on in a nice restaurant. And with Cecelia sitting right
here.

Edwina could see he was trying not to let
anyone notice, but she saw right through him. He was trying to find
her to kick her again.

The meal came and right on time. Suddenly
talk turned to other things, and she was able to eat in perfect
peace.

Her employer paid for the meal. Cecelia and
Spencer wanted one more walk around, and they promised to be back
in ten minutes. The Scot rose, so she followed. She dug her toes
around seeking her shoes. Sneaking a glance under the table, she
couldn’t see them. Panic. Where were they? She was still bending
this way and that trying to lay eyes upon the shoes.

“Looking for these?” Mr. Dunnegin showed her
the shoes, then stuck one in each back pocket.

“Give me those. Sir.” She remembered her
manners.

“Not a chance, babe,” he
said smartly.
Babe?
Edwina’s eyebrows rose high enough to nearly touch her
widow’s peak. So he wasn’t going to give them to her. Well, she’d
show him. She’d walk right through the restaurant without them and
hope she embarrassed him. That would serve the stubborn man
right.

Cecelia and Spencer joined them. He ignored
her feeble attempts to get next to him so she could rescue her
shoes from his pockets. Now she was getting mad. It was time to go
and no shoes.

The Scot led the way. She followed Cecelia
and Spencer, face red as a Michigan apple as she made her way
through the patrons, knowing they were staring at her shoeless
feet.

“Give me my shoes, you Scot.” She sidled up
next to him and whispered loudly.

“For a kiss, lass.”

Edwina sputtered. “How dare you?”

“Ye dare a Scot?” He sounded menacing.

“No... it’s just that . . .” She looked
around lest Cecelia should hear such talk.

“They took a walk,” Mr. Dunnegin told
her.

“What... so you think you can play games with
me?”

“No games, lass.” His green
eyes turned greener. Edwina didn’t understand anything about this
whole affair. What had happened to the serious Scot... the one who
made great work of his station? Who hardly ever smiled or left work
long enough to come home for more than a few days? She scolded
herself. He had been concentrating on keeping his daughter from
being swept away by an evil grandfather.
That’s what he was doing, Edwina
.
There you go judging people
again.

They were at the car. Reardon was not there.
The Scot opened the door and commanded, “Sit.”

She got in and then he said, “Turn, put yer
feet out here.”

Edwina turned on the seat, her legs dangling
out of the car door. “So, you’ve decided to let me have my shoes,
have ye?” She was not even near the forgiving point.

“Aye.” He reached for her ankle. His hand was
warm. His fingers resting on her skin felt like a caress. She
shivered.

“Cold?”

“Yes. No. It’s okay... just give me my
shoes.” She shot her hand out. Perhaps it would be better if she
put them on herself.

“Quit fidgeting, lass,” he said, the
strangest smile on his face.

Edwina felt the shoe being put on her foot.
He was so slow about it. She thought she’d die of embarrassment if
he didn’t get to it. Not to mention the shivers going up her leg at
his warm touch.

Then he reached for her other ankle and put
that shoe on so slowly she thought she was going to scream. “Would
you get up?” she said looking around. “People will think this is
all very strange, you kneeling like that,” she whispered and pulled
her feet into the car.

He remained there. Edwina could not imagine
his purpose. He just kept looking at her. She started to wonder if
her clothes were buttoned up wrong and snuck a look.

“What?” She finally squeaked.

“Do ye see I’m on one knee, lass?” She looked
down.

“Aye, so?”

“
Do ye see anything in my
eyes?”

She looked. And looked away. Her heart had
jumped from its safe position in her chest. He looked... like...
she saw love there. Surely not for her. . . .

She gazed over his shoulder looking for
Cecelia. Surely he . . .

He continued to look at her, the stubborn
Scot that he was.

Her nerves were jingling. “Look at me, lass.”
She could not. Her eyes darted about. “Ye cannot get away.”

“I... I... would have you know . . .” Just
then she saw his face coming closer. Before she could say another
word, he was kissing her. Her. Her arms flailed.

“What if Cecelia sees us?” She pushed him
away, righteous anger sputtering from her mouth. The Scot sat back
on his haunches, giving her a chance to catch her breath.

His tone serious, he said, “I’ve noticed ye
honor beauty and skill. I would have chosen ye’re sister if I
admired those attributes.”

He sounded sad.

Edwina’s heart began to crack. Tears crept up
and attempted to gush out in a flood.

“Lass, I’ve chosen you.”

“Me?” she was truly shocked.

“Ye lass.” For once in her life, Edwina did
not know what to say.

“It is ye I love.” He made the point clear,
for by the looks of it she wasn’t listening. Then he was kissing
her again. Softly his lips moved across hers. So it was true, then.
No man could kiss a girl like that and not mean it... at least she
hoped above all things that it was true. She could feel her
boneless arms trying to reach up and put them around the man’s
neck.

He helped her. She felt his warm touch on her
forearms as they were lifted up.

When the kiss ended, Edwina could barely
stand the chill she felt when he moved away and got on one knee
again. “Will ye marry me, Edwina Emily Blair? Me and Paige,
lass?”

Edwina hesitated and wished more than
anything she could hear him say it again—just to be sure. But no,
he had said it. His eyes told her it was true.

Chapter 57

A
s
suddenly as the words were spoken, Edwina began to doubt. How could
the Scot care for her?
Love
her? She had no illusions. The man could get any
woman he wanted and had proven that to her the minute she’d met
him. He had been hurrying home to meet the woman he was to marry,
his fiancée.

So what had transpired from then until now?
She could not allow herself to be taken in by foolishness. Her
practical spirit rose and argued with her romantic heart.

He was watching her face as two pink dots
formed on her cheeks, evidence of her fearful thoughts.

The man was even now on his knee awaiting her
answer.

Cecelia and Spencer rounded the corner, and
she breathed as they stopped a ways off smiling.

So they knew? How could they know and she not
know? Was this a game? Her mind was frantic with fear. Surely he
meant to ask Cecelia, not her.

Yet he was waiting. Sick with guilt and
denial, she heard herself laugh.

“Ye laugh, lass?”

He was standing now.

“
No... I just . . .” She
shook her head and sought his eyes again. She saw the look of pain
there.