Edwina (7 page)

Edwina’s eyes fell to the book in her hand.
She turned it over in her palms and looked out the window before
she answered.

“I... I fell asleep.”

The Scot said nothing else. Edwina could hear
the clicking of his boots.

For some reason, Edwina felt melancholy. The
Scot had not been as friendly. Something about his eyes. A
certain... was it sadness perhaps? She shook the thoughts free of
her mind and picked up the volume, soon caught up in the throes of
World War II.

Chapter 11

T
he breakfast bell rang. Edwina set the book aside, glad for
the break, then hustled off to the dining room. Bertie did not need
another cause to ruin her already busy day.

She appeared and instantly saw the elderly
couple from last evening. They rushed up to her and said excitedly,
“We have chosen Chicago.”

“Ah, well done. You will not be disappointed,
although New York has much to offer too.”

“Yes, dear, and we will be so close while
we’re in Boston . . .” the lady smiled at her husband.

“Funds, dear. It is for lack of funds.” He
patted his wife’s arm.

A thought struck Edwina. “I... well my sister
owns several bed-and-breakfast units in downtown Chicago. Might I
help you save some... funds... by putting you up while in Chicago?
Perhaps then you could visit New York as well?”

“Oh no, we could not accept, although it is a
fine offer,” the woman said immediately.

Edwina was not sure of Scottish protocol as
yet and wondered if she should insist or let it remain an open
invitation. She decided quickly.

“
Do you have a paper and
pen?”

The man pulled out a gold pen from his suit
jacket and a slice of elegant paper with their address in script at
the top.

Edwina wrote her sister’s name and phone
number on it and returned it. “Should you decide, my sister will
see to it you are treated very well, at no cost to you,” Edwina
threw in. By this time her sister would be richer than she was
previously now that her father had left his fortune to her. And in
exchange for the Scot’s kindness to her, really to her sister
indirectly, she reasonably expected Cecelia to put them up.

“It would be most kind of you, should we find
ourselves able.” The man bowed slightly and slipped the paper in
the pocket of his suit jacket. “Our address, should you need us.”
He handed her a fresh sheet.

“Ah, our host.” The older man said with a
smile.

Edwina turned and saw Mr.
Dunnegin coming toward them.
Wasn’t he
supposed to be gone by now?

“Sorry to be late,” he said without a
smile.

Oh boy, things were not
good. Edwina started for her seat when she was grabbed at the elbow
and propelled forward.
What
now?

Before she knew what was happening she was
seated in Ilana’s chair. The Scot then stepped around the table to
settle the elderly woman in her chair, waited for the man to be
seated before he took his own. Where in the world was Ilana going
to sit? Surely she would toss Edwina out on her head if she were to
come in and find her position occupied. Her eyes slid back and
forth from the doorway to the Scot to the elderly couple.

“She will not be joining us,” he said
pointedly with a stare. “Stop fidgeting.”

Edwina set her hands in her lap, eased to the
point that at least the fiancée would not be yanking her hair out
strand by strand. Perhaps she was out purchasing the lace for her
storybook wedding dress.

Breakfast was served and
eaten in good spirits, at least with the couple and Edwina... the
Scot’s thoughts were else- where and he barely spoke. And Bertie.
Well, she made up for the lack of smiles and good humor. Edwina
just stared at her. The woman was smiling at every turn, quick to
serve them, almost glowing.
Glowing?

The Scot was angry, Bertie was happy. Such
things that went on in castles these days. Edwina almost shook her
head.

When the plates were removed and the small
talk had pretty much died down, Edwina excused herself to the
library.

Sunk deeply in the leather chair with the
World War II volume still heavy upon her lap, she started to doze.
She laid her head back, shut her tired eyes, and relaxed. She
wasn’t even worried about tomorrow. Her mind drifted to hills and
dales and women in fanciful, flowing dresses.

Something pulled her from her reverie. Slowly
she opened her eyes, stretched her arms outward, and found herself
in the presence of Alex Dunnegin. He was sitting in the chair
opposite her, his booted legs stretched out in front of him...
looking at her.

“What?” She came awake alarmed.

He lifted his hand as though to stop her. “I
came in to bid my guest bye-the-bye and found ye dozing.”

“Oh.” She closed the book
and started to rise.
How long had he been
there?

“Remain seated. I have much to do and must be
on my way. Reardon will see ye to Edinburgh this evening or in the
morning, whichever ye wish.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, still
mush-minded.

“It was kind of you to offer yer sister’s
accommodations for my friends.”

“
Oh, it’s nothing. Not
after all you’ve done for me. And for my sister, indirectly,” she
added smiling. “She planned the trip.”

“The cause of yer predicament, eh?”

“Exactly.” she said. “You see my sister is
rather elegant, English and beautiful. It was her picture that
arrived by fax and no one believes she is me... as well they
shouldn’t.”

“Will ye have trouble tomorrow... on the
tour, I mean.”

“Probably, but I will insist, absolutely
insist that I be let on.” She smiled at her ability to make light
of the problem.

“Ah, a lass in a man’s world.”

Edwina thought about that for a moment.
“Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “Cecelia, my sister, she’s one
of those.”

“Ah, another one,” he said
and looked past her through the windows deep in thought, the smile
gone from his lips. Lips much too pretty for a man.
Where had that come from? I’ve never noticed a
man’s lips before. But then,
she
reasoned
, I’ve never seen so much
handsomeness wrapped up in one man before either.

The Scot stood to his full height. “Hope you
enjoy the rest of your tour in bonny Scotland.” He bowed. His long
black coat swung at his booted ankles as he exited, leaving the
room bereft at his absence.

“Jeesh.” She was falling below the line of
common sense and letting her silly heart rush away with her
thoughts.

Chapter 12

S
o
Laird Dunnegin had a farm, did he?
Edwina
mused.
What did he do? Run a tractor? Grow
things? Raise sheep? What did Scots do on farms anyway?
She’d ask Bertie—who amazingly appeared in the
doorway right that very minute.

“What do Scots raise on farms?” she
asked.

“Whatever do ye mean, lass?” Bertie’s dusting
cloth never stopped dusting.

“You know... sheep, cows, horses, or maybe
corn or wheat—stuff like that.”

“Stuff like that?” Bertie repeated, her nose
in the air. “Such a way ye Americans have of speaking.”

“Okay, I’ll be straight with you.”

“Straight?” Bertie stopped her work and
stared at her.

“You know... real.”

“Ah... real.”

“What does the Scot... laird, Mr. Dunnegin,
whatever you call him do on his farm? Does he raise things?”

“He grows potatoes.”

“Potatoes?”

“
Yes, potatoes. Have ye not
heard of them in America?” Bertie shot back.

“Of course. We have French fries, you know.”
Edwina started to laugh and saw Bertie was not in the mood. What
had happened to the smile she’d been wearing during breakfast?

Since it seemed there was nothing else to
say, Edwina clamped her mouth shut and cast her eyes on the
book.

“Why would a lass like ye want to know what
the laird does?” Bertie’s question was too nice.

“Oh, nothing, just asking. I’m thinking about
a story line, and I just needed some information, that’s all.”

“Story line?” Bertie had her hands on her
hips again. “Ye aren’t thinking of writing some fancy dandy story
about the laird are ye?”

“Well . . .”

“Well, my socks. Ye just put that idea out o’
yer head this day, ye hear?”

“Why, Bertie?”

“Cause it’s none o’ yer affair how the laird
lives and what he does. Besides . . .” She stopped for a minute.
“Besides, things o’ such nature are not for ye to know aboot.”

“What nature?” Edwina knew the moment the
words were out they were the wrong ones.

“See? See?” Bertie waved her dusting cloth,
and Edwina saw dust mites twinkling in the sunlight.

“There ye are trying to find out things ye
need not know aboot. Tis as I said.” Her dusting became frantic.
“That man has been through enough,” she said tartly and then her
hand went to her mouth. Bertie rushed from the room, her dust rag
still on top of the shelf.

Now what had she done? Should she go after
Bertie? No way. It would only make things worse. Perhaps Bertie was
going through menopause or something. She’d read about such things
in women’s magazines. Happy one minute, angry the next.

Snapping the book shut she decided to take a
walk on the grounds since it was late afternoon, hopefully
undisturbed by the dogs.

Slipping on her shoes, she found one of the
servants and asked about the dogs. “Will they attack me even though
their master has told them not to one other time?”

“Miss, the dogs are with the master. Ye need
not worry.” And the girl was gone.

“You’re sure?” Edwina called out loudly, but
the soft sounds of retreating footsteps announced she was already
out of hearing range. These people sure did move fast.

This time Edwina chose the front door to
exit. She had already seen most of the gardens in the back. The
hills across the way were calling her name. Besides, she would do
well to memorize the surroundings so the descriptive scenes in her
book would be real and ring true. There was nothing she hated more
than to find a falsehood in a book.

Suddenly she knew she needed paper and ran
back for her pad and pencil.

The hills and dales were everything the books
said they would be. Soft, lush green, low and gently rolling. She
made note of each attribute and walked through fields of myriad
shades of colored wildflowers, rocks dotting the hillsides. There
were pathways where others had walked before her. No wonder the
Scots were proud. Their land was hauntingly beautiful.

Caught up in the new spring flowers,
honeysuckle and foxglove she recognized, she tried to memorize each
nuance, even sketched some of the plants on her pad. The late
after- noon skittered away. She could see the castle up on the
hill. No matter how far one walked, she was sure they could see it
like a beacon. Lights were beginning to come on in the miniature
windows as she viewed the Scot’s home. It was, sadly, time to go
back.

The walk took longer than
she’d predicted. It was dark now, but a full moon gave enough light
to make the ground appear frosty white. The evening was magical.
The sky, after a sun-warmed day, gave way to the moon in all its
glory; full, white, and low, it seemed to lull her home.
Thank you, Lord, for such a fine day and for all
the things you created
. Edwina walked
through the front doors and wondered if she should have rung the
bell first.

“Ah, you have returned,” Reardon said, his
manner gruff. “I was about to place a call to Laird Dunnegin.”

Edwina’s eyes widened. He sure was pomp and
circumstance tonight.

“Oh, I’m glad you didn’t,” she gushed. “He
would have been very unhappy.”

“Indeed.”

“Is it so late that you were worried?” She
cringed at the question.

“I was just coming out to look for you. I
have orders to assist you in loading your baggage and taking you to
Edinburgh, this eve or on the morrow, as you desire,” he said
gazing past her.

So he didn’t like her shenanigans either.
Well, she would be gone soon.

“I’m very sorry. Would you prefer I leave
tonight?”

“I... what have I to do
with it?” he said sensibly. “I am at
your
service, lass.”

The reminder was quick and sure. “Yes, right.
Then I will leave in the morning.

“What time shall I come for you?”

“Eight o’clock?” she questioned.

“Eight o’clock.” Reardon repeated and
retreated, his flaps flying. Edwina ran up the stairs and found her
bath was running.

Uh oh, Bertie is in my room.

“
Lass, where have ye been?
Reardon was just aboot to set out fer ye.”

“I know, Bertie. I spoke with him just
now.”

“Then ye apologized sure and true? He is not
aboot friendliness this eve.”

“I noticed. And yes, I apologized.”

“Good lass, now be aboot your bath. I shall
return with a plate.”

“Thank you, Bertie, you’re a doll. I’m
starving.”

“Doll?”

“You know, a sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Bertie appeared the foolish one
this time. “It’s a pet name.”

“Ye call me a pet name. Like a dog?” Her
hands flew upwards.

“No, not that kind of pet.... Oh goodness,
forget I said anything. It was an endearment, Bertie.”

“Well then.” Bertie settled down and hustled
through the door.

Chapter 13

“A
h, I shall never appreciate a shower ever again,” Edwina
cooed as she settled into the warm water.
I wonder if I could possibly fit a tub this size... no, it
would never work, even if the landlord were willing to pull down
the wall between the kitchen and bathroom. Then what would I use
for a kitchen?