His Lass Wears Tartan (14 page)

“Aye, like myself. I don’t need a man in my life. I enjoy my horses and helping with the bed and breakfast marketing and PR. I have a wine collection starting up, so my career, right here, has been enough for me. But ...” She stopped. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it? I love you like my own daughter if I had one. There truly isn’t anything you can’t ask me.”

A single tear glistened at the edge of her eye. “And I believe my heart knows you like a mother, but ...” Again she stopped—it was like having a bone caught in her throat.

The tear trickled down her cheek at the maternal love for Baillie, but visions of Bruce above her, his breathing heavy, swallowed her in a wave of longing. What had she done? Confessions of not being sure if she loved him aside, Lord help her, she wanted him inside her again.

“Uh, Rogue, by the heat staining your cheeks right now, I get the impression your questions may be more delicate in nature than the universal concept of love. Is that right?” Rogue nodded. “Has no one told you of the birds and bees? Hmm, I guess Putney wouldn’t have done so over the years.”

Rogue’s eyes widened. “What do bloody creatures of summer have to do with sex? Auntie, I’m twenty-four years old, not a bloody child. I learned more about sex with our Highland cattle and that randy horned Ferdinand by my early teens. I certainly understand how the mechanics of it all work.” Slapping her hand over her mouth, she bent over and buried her head in her hands. A muffled scream leaked out. Still muffled, she said, “I’m bewitched, I tell ya, bewitched. Forgive me for snapping at you; I’m not myself.”

Baillie’s voice took on a careful tone. “You’re fine, really. And you’re right. You’re not a child anymore. I’m sorry if Putney and I have been giving you a hard time lately about men. Putney has been so caught up with her matchmaking, I just followed in the flow.”

Rogue raised her head up and rolled her eyes.

Laughing, Baillie said, “There’s my girl, and yes, I realize we’ve gone a little overboard, and I promise to back off some. Well, I can promise, not sure too about Putney. I do wish Gillian and the girls were here. This would be a lively discussion needless to say. Now, let’s start again. Is it questions you have about sex or love?” She brought up her hands in an open gesture.

Rogue swiped her hands through her hair, and took a shaky breath. “First I have to profess I am not a virgin, Aunt Baillie.” She stared at her aunt for a brief, steady moment before dropping her head to her chest. “Well, not anymore.”

“I see.” She cleared her throat. “Did this change happen tonight?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Rogue nodded.

Her aunt flew up from her chair, eyes blazing, with her hands into fists. “Did Jonathan ... did that man hurt you? If he touched you inappropriately, so help me ...”

Shaking her head, Rogue whispered, “Bruce.”

Baillie dropped back in her chair, blinking. “Oh, uh, sorry, well, ask anything, my dear. What is it you want to know? Surely you understand sex and sexual urges don’t automatically mean you’re in love with someone. Raging hormones inside anyone can blind us to the differences between lust and love.”

A nod or two answered her aunt. She hungered for Bruce, if that’s what Auntie meant by being hot and bothered, desire and longing played havoc with her heart. Yet despite the emotional turmoil, he gave her a rooted establishment like coming home after a long journey. Did love reflect the feelings that stayed long after they’d been together?

“Rogue?”

“Yes?” She forced herself back to the present.

“Uh, you wanted to know what? Are you worried about the concept of safe sex? Are you using protection against getting pregnant?”

Rogue squeezed her eyes closed and tried to think if anytime during the passion on the small bed, the subject or question had come up. She couldn’t remember. Strain crinkled the skin around her eyes. “I donna know, things sort of happened so fast.” She quickly changed the subject away from her. “I don’t mean to barge in like Dougal busting into the kitchen on such a subject, but ya love Uncle Kai with all your heart, aye?”

“So very aye.” Her aunt smiled.

“Yet he being a ghost and all,” she gulped and rushed out the rest of her question, “how do you lie with him? Are you still a virgin?” A slow sigh escaped from her chapped lips.

It was Baillie’s turn to stare silently into the fire.

“How do ya know it is love when ya canna satisfy your man?” She cared so much for the woman across from her, and a pool of anger gurgled up. “Here you find the love of your life and... and he canna lie with ya proper, being invisible and all.” Rogue heard her voice crack with emotion, yet her aunt was smiling, a smile that glowed. “I’m so confused. Why are ya finding this funny?”

Baillie moved across the space to kiss Rogue’s cheek before sitting down again. “I won’t tell you the secrets behind my bedroom door, young lady, but let’s talk about being a virgin first.” She looked down at her hands a moment. “I’d already lost my virginity before I met your uncle.”

“What? But you said men weren’t important to ya?”

She coughed in her hand, hiding a quick smile, before continuing. “Sex can be enjoyed with someone you like or want to have fun with, without involving love. Though I have to say the first time ...”

“Yes?” Rogue almost slid out of her seat, making a face at the sudden soreness.

“Ah, I think I see the problem.”

“Can you tell, Auntie? Do I look different?” Rogue looked down at her lap, twisting the ties of her robe. “It’s not like my monthly kind of pain, but I hurt and, and bled a little.”

“Aye, that can happen the first time. In fact during ancient times, the spots of blood were expected to ensure a virgin had been brought to the marital bed. Almost a badge of honor for the man.”

“I still canna understand how such a physical bond can be missing from your and uncle’s relationship. Forgive me, Auntie, but I feel like I want Bruce again in my arms now, soon.”

Her aunt’s laughter filled the room. “Yes, you have it bad, my girl, you’re practically glowing. But I do not need sex to feel sexy or cherished beyond the moon by your uncle. A man’s caress can make a woman content as well as exhilarate her. Just seeing his bare chest steals my breath away every time. He holds my heart in his hands on our long walks on the grounds, discussing anything and everything.”

“True, words are a blessing, and holding Bruce’s hand is like magic.”

“Exactly. And our rides across the moors are romantic and chivalrous. He lies with me at night, just not with the fireworks like you and Bruce. We have compromises in our journey of love.” Baillie sighed. “Remember the night in the kitchen when we talked about the faults and foibles of men?”

She nodded.

“Well, a foible of Uncle Kai’s would be his ghostness. I can’t imagine my life without him, but I had adjustments, compromises to make.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she contemplated her aunt’s words. “Now I can definitely see the faults in that peacock piece of work, Jonathan, so dark and brooding one minute then oozing smothering compliments the next. The man’s attention gives me a painful headache, it does.”

“Exactly, you’ve got the idea. Do his continuing attentions mean anything? He does seem quite fixated with you.”

Rogue sighed. “Jonathan’s flattery and attentiveness made it hard to breathe in the beginning, I’ll admit. My heart skipped around and my palms felt damp whenever he was near. He’s been talking about flying me to Paris or places far and wide, a world of glitz and glamour. You should hear the elaborate fantasies of Broadway theater in New York and celebrity bashes in Los Angeles. But lately, and especially the other night, he rambled on like a fool, saying he wanted to ask your permission to court me. I can’t imagine dating him—sitting with him for any length of time becomes torture.

“When he asked me to dinner, I tried to get out of it, truly I did, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Auntie, I ended up drowning his constant voice with I don’t know how many glasses or bottles of wine tonight. The more I drank, the worse his drivel sounded.”

“Alcohol never solves anything when a man is involved.” Baillie covered her mouth with her hand.

“I don’t feel crazy weird with Bruce. He makes my heart expand until I think it will burst from my chest in a good way.” She stared into the fire, remembering his touches. His strong hands holding her. She couldn’t share those details with her aunt. “He feels more like a dear friend, always kind and gentle, fun to be around. I enjoy being with him every minute I can.” She closed her eyes. “I canna think of any foibles in the man, Auntie. Well, maybe just the one, professing he loves me already when I don’t know my own heart yet. And I did tell him the truth, Auntie.”

“I’m sure he respects that. Friendship is a wonderful foundation for love, though. It wasn’t just that your uncle is wildly stunning and breathtaking that sealed my love for him. He’s my best friend, too.”

“Does Uncle Kai have any other foibles, other than being a ghost, I mean?”

“Well, that’s the main one, mind you. You’ll find compromise comes with any relationship in some way or other. Trust me, as much as you love him, every man comes with a few foibles. I guarantee you’ll find a few in Bruce in time.” They both laughed. 

“Ya truly gonna marry Uncle Kai, Auntie? The bonds of forever declared?” Dumping the conversation back on her aunt kept her from blurting out any more about Bruce. She grinned, not wanting to own up to her wanton, though drunken, passionate details any more than her aunt.

Baillie nodded. “He is my soul, my future, my always. The handfast on the summer solstice will decree our love to the universe on the longest day of the year. And bless that our love may shine bright throughout the years.”

Rogue eased herself from her chair and gave her aunt a soft kiss on her cheek. “I best be getting back to my room before Uncle Kai starts growling about how I’ve taken up too much of your time.” Seeing a startled look on her aunt’s face followed by a hint of a blush, she added, “All right, I’m going, ya greedy man. Ya must share herself with others, ya know?”

“He says he’ll try, and good morrow to you, good niece.”

Rogue pulled at the room’s iron door handle. “Sleep tight and thank you, Auntie, for listening to my ramblings.”

Before the door fully closed, Rogue heard soft giggling from the room.

“That’s odd.” Putney hung up the phone as Rogue stepped into the kitchen the next morning.

Taking a deep breath of the delicious spices and yeasty aromas made her head woozy. Guess the wine hadn’t worn off yet. “What’s odd?” She couldn’t erase the smile from her face after dreaming of Bruce through the night.

She had taken slower care in selecting her costume and fixing her hair. She felt pretty in the plunging heart-shaped neckline exposing her neck decorated with a ribbon choker. Applying her makeup seemed easier now, too, as she was getting the blending and shading right. But it meant she came down later than she’d hoped.

“Well, my delivery order is late so I called down to the shop, and they said they havena seen Bruce yet this morning.”

Rogue froze, a piece of biscuit just outside her open mouth. “What?” Her mind flashed like a minefield on various disasters in rapid fire: His van skidded into a tree leaving him unconscious near a field, or maybe a tire blew and flung the van into a ditch, knocking his head against the side window. He could be bleeding to death. Maybe a sudden fog came up on his way home, and he smashed into a deer, leaving him with amnesia. She shook off her overactive imagination.

“I’m sure ’tis nothing,” the old woman said. “That young helper of his will bring my order and said he’d be out shortly. It’s happened now and again since the lad took over his da’s business. Bruce tends to wear himself thin doing too much for each of his customers. More likely he just overslept.”

Rogue still couldn’t move, though she forced herself to breathe.
Snap out of it. He’s merely worn out from our time together, right?
She yanked back her runaway thoughts of gloom and doom and focused instead on his sweet, demanding kisses last night. The romance movie in her mind stopped when she realized he wouldn’t be coming out this morning. He wouldn’t see how she’d dressed up for him. Her mood dropped from giddy to depressed.

“Lassie, now what is it causing that look?” Putney wiped her hands on her apron, putting her hands on her hips. “Has your heart been stolen by my dear Bruce at last?” Putney teased, her voice low as the waitstaff came in to gather breakfast settings for the guests.

The young, well-dressed men kept sneaking looks at Rogue, the kind of admiring looks she wanted from Bruce. She usually gave them a smile but ignored their efforts today. “Don’t tease a woman with a headache first thing in the morning.”

Smoothing her skirt with her hands, Rogue turned to leave when Aunt Baillie shuffled a step into the room, white as bleached sheets fresh from the laundry. Her mouth moved but no sound escaped.

Putney dashed over and grabbed Rogue’s arm, her blunt fingernails cutting into her skin. “Oh, Lord, what’s happened? Is it my Robbie? Where is my Robbie?”

Baillie steadied herself against the wall. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sure Robbie is fine. Somewhere around here.” Her voice trailed off.

Robbie sauntered through the other kitchen door at that moment, and Putney ran over, crushing him in her thick arms.

“Settle yourself, woman.” He looked around the room. “What the bloody mess in going on in here?”

Rogue’s mind spun in circles as she stared at her aunt’s pale face.

Flapping one hand, Baillie said, “I just ran into Jonathan running down the stairs, yelling hysterically. People were popping out of their rooms, and he’s yelling ... he’s yelling Mr. Leatherton is dead.” She shook her head. “All the writers ran into the man’s room with Jonathan. I heard someone sobbing. I can’t believe this is happening. Another death in the castle. It’s a nightmare.”

Rogue approached her aunt, but Baillie raised her hands to stop her. “That’s not all, I’m afraid. He believes ... well, he said the soup delivered yesterday was poisoned.”