His Lass Wears Tartan (9 page)

She tied the ribbon at the end of the braid as the horse moved nervously, her stomach tensing up. Rogue spoke soothing sounds to the mare and ran her hands across the lumpy middle. “She still has a time to go, I guess.” She looked down at her hands, avoiding Bruce’s eyes. “I appreciate ya coming in and keeping me company, I do, but I donna want to keep you from your rounds or deliveries.”

Bruce checked his cell phone, and Rogue saw him scroll through a few messages. “Funny, we’ve only been in here an hour, but it seems like all day. Like time stopped, in a good way.” He shoved the phone back into his pants pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve enjoyed being here. Would you mind if I came again, tonight? I feel like I’m leaving in the middle of a movie or something. But I do have to go. I’m anxious to know if there’s a happy ending to all this.”

Rogue enjoyed how his tousled hair made him look more rugged, sexier.

Bruce opened the gate, and Rogue stepped through, looking back at the mare. “Sure. I’m going to be here until the birth, so you’ll know where to find me.”

They walked out of the stables together and squinted at the bright sunlight. They passed the wooden bridge and stood next to the delivery truck.

“So I’ll see ya later tonight then?” Rogue stood close to him and stared into his green eyes with flecks of gold, his pupils small dots. His eyes looked back at her as if searching for something, an answer.

He hesitated a moment before breaking eye contact. “Aye, I’ll bring us something to eat, and if the foal inna here yet, we can sit together for a meal while waiting for the blessed event.”

“I’d like that, thank you.” She kissed him on his reddish cheek, feeling the short bristles of a possible beard under her lips. “See you tonight,” she said and rushed off. Looking back from the stable door, her heart skipped a beat as he put his hand on his cheek where she’d kissed him.

• • •

Stepping into the heated, active kitchen, Bruce set two sacks of take-out food on the counter.

“Am I to be offended, you bringing food from town into my kitchen?” Putney pointed her wooden spoon at him. “My food not good enough for ya?”

“Aw, Putney, you know it’s not like that. Just thought this might be easier for you instead of fixing us up something for the stables.” He passed the package of the professor’s soup from one hand to the other. “I’ll be right back. Let me get this to Mr. Leatherton.”

“Aye, there’s another one refuses my food.” She sniffed. “I’m beginning to take these snubs personally.”

Robbie shuffled into the kitchen. “What are you bickering about now, woman?”

Bruce snuck out while the old man took the cook’s attention away from him.

He double-timed his steps to where the course was held and found an empty room. Class must have ended. As Bruce turned toward the door, he heard a faint conversation in the far corner. Looked like the professor had kept one of the women after school for a private consultation.

Carefully backing out through the doorway, he made a lot of noise reentering. “Your package is here, professor,” he called out.

“Yes, yes, bring it here.” Mr. Leatherton walked forward with a woman about his same age and dressed in purple following him. “You’ll love this, Beatrice, trust me. Tonight we’ll celebrate your well-deserved achievement.” He shoved a wad of money into Bruce’s hand and took the package. “Go ahead and eat your supper with the group. I don’t want the others wondering about your absence. I’ll save a cup for you to share with me afterward.”

Bruce smiled at the older woman, who nodded with a sweet smile in his direction, though Mr. Leatherton ignored him completely after the payment exchange.

Turning to leave, Bruce spotted Jonathan shadowed in the doorway, stiff against the wall, as if spying on the couple. Jonathan didn’t acknowledge him at all when he walked by, just continued staring into the room. No sarcastic remarks or degrading name-calling. How odd—the guy was slipping. Bruce shrugged and returned to the kitchen.

Putney had set a large flask of hot tea with two sturdy mugs next to the sacks of food. “Ya’ll need something to wash down that greasy mess you young ones call food.”

“Thank you. I knew ya wouldn’t stay mad at me forever.”

“Get on with ya now. I have real food to fix. You know where ta find our girl.”

While walking to the stables, Bruce noticed the hair on the back of his neck tingling as if someone were watching him. He stopped and turned, looking back at the cluster of trees where he parked his truck across from the gardens, but nothing moved in the dusky evening light. “Just the haunted castle, I guess. The ghost be walking the grounds.”

Rogue looked up from inside the stall, her knees buried in straw, and smiled. “There’s what I need, sustenance.” She stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Let me wash up first.” She ducked into a tiny bathroom at the end of the building.

Bruce made a table for them using bales of hay, spread a blanket, and set out the wrapped food. A wet nose came up on his neck as he took a seat, and he almost screamed. “Ya crazy dog! You’ll not get a bite from me now, scaring me like that.” Diva whimpered. “No use begging my forgiveness. See if your owner will give you any. Next time, no sneaking up on a man.” He opened the flask of tea, nearly spilling its contents. “Hey, and no beating me with that vicious tail of yours.”

“Ya got a best friend there, Bruce MacKenzie.” Rogue sat across from him and tore open her sandwich. She pulled off a piece and tossed it to the dog, causing Bruce to snort. “What’s wrong with ya now?”

“Aye, nothing. I told Diva she had to wait for you. I wasna sharing any of my food with the wet-nosed beggar.”

Rogue tore off another piece and tossed it at the dog. “There was a time I wasn’t above begging for food on the streets. A person can only go so long without something to keep her energy going.”

“Those must have been rough times for ya.”

She nodded. “Funny, seems so long ago, I almost don’t recognize the memories of the wee myself on her own, ya know? Much has happened and much I have to be grateful for these past years.”

He couldn’t stop staring at her. He had trouble imagining this beautiful woman, now sitting across a bale of hay from him in a warm stable, was once alone and wandering Edinburgh. Her strength and independence fascinated him, as she bit into her sandwich. The woman was an heiress, had dined with probably celebrities and royalty no doubt, and yet looked right at home here with him, a small-business owner.

“Ya being quiet over there, Bruce.” She smiled as she picked up her mug of tea. “Not a wee bit nervous about the birthing, are ya?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d be a liar if I said otherwise. I’m not that familiar with animal husbandry and the like.”

“Scotlynn will be doing all the work. We’re just here to ensure nature goes well for the birth.” Finished with her sandwich, she wadded the paper wrapping into a ball. “I have a confession to make. I’m not used to having someone here in the stables. This is my turf. I guess I think of it as my kingdom, ya know?”

Bruce moved his head back and forth, afraid if he made any sudden gestures she would bolt from her seat.

“Here, I always know what I’m doing. I’m confident in taking care of the horses whether it’s my first love, Dougal, or the few geldings kept for our tourists to ride. These are my people, my world.” She lowered her eyelids. “And I just wanted you to know that I’m glad you’re here, MacKenzie. It’s nice.”

He began to reach for her hand when a gruff snort and hooves stomping behind them interrupted. “Looks like she needs ya. She sounds more stressful, extreme now.”

Rogue pulled on a pair of worn gloves as Bruce cleaned up the area, emptying the tea and setting the flask aside. He watched as the horse carefully got down to her knees before flopping onto the straw-hewn floor, Rogue encouraging her.

“’Tis time,” he heard.

He stood at the gate and watched nature unfold. Rogue soothed the mare in the final contractions, encouraging the birth as best she could until a wet black foal blinked and shook its head against the torn placenta sack, nestled in the straw.

“Ya be all right there, Bruce? Probably was not the best schedule to eat right before a birthing, aye? No go fainting on me.”

Overwhelmed at the sight of the brown-haired angel cooing at the wee horse, Bruce felt his heart pounding, making him light-headed. He had never experienced a birth of any animal, and the process seemed utterly daunting, mystifying. “My poor wee mam, what I must have put her through on my own birthday,” he whispered.

“She dinna have ya in a barn, though.” They both snickered. “I feel so close to these majestic creatures, ya know? Like part of their family. Accepted and appreciated.”

Bruce’s heart twisted at her words. An orphan in the world finding a home, her place, her peace. How he longed to be a part of that privileged circle. Someone who would adore her every day and make her feel his love in her soul.

Shifting his footing, he said, “What a clumsy little beauty. Look how long the legs are compared to its wee body.”

“He’ll grow into them. Look, he’s already trying to figure out which goes where.”

“I’m truly exhausted for them both,” Bruce said as the mare nosed the gangly little thing.

• • •

Climbing over the stall fence, Rogue jumped down and landed inside Bruce’s arms. “I dinna need your help getting down from the fence, ya know.”

“I know, woman, ya just helped birth a foal no less. It’s just my da taught me to assist a lady whenever possible.”

The warmth of his hands on her waist pulsed electricity through her, soothing her worn muscles. She’d been crouched down in the stall most of the day and appreciated his steadiness.

They watched the little foal struggle to stand, legs wobbly, even smacking himself in the snout. Once he accomplished that feat, he turned his little face to look over at his mama. “Does he not look determined? It’s just amazing. Somehow he must get all four legs working together before he gets himself dinner.”

Rogue leaned against Bruce and took a deep breath of his scent. As she relaxed next to him, her mind clicked into motion, comparing this moment with her times with Jonathan. She experienced no unnerving stress, no extreme flutters in her stomach, no damp sweat as with Jonathan. She felt ... cared for. Nothing like in the romantic movies where the man and woman seem barely able to breathe together. She practically lost all thought around Jonathan, her heart racing and a dampness under her arms. This, this was comfortable, but what did that mean? That there was no spark, no zing between them? He was attentive and kind and didn’t mind being silly like when Diva practically washed his face the other day.
But is being friends all there is between us?
What would she say to Putney? The woman would be crushed; she was so smitten with this guy. Although, granted, he was gorgeous.

A loud crash against wood at the other end of the room startled them. “Dougal, ya wild beast, be respectful of your new wee one here.”

She turned her face and found Bruce focused on her. She smiled and blinked as his lips came down slowly to touch hers. Soft, gentle lips covered her chapped ones as she marveled at her body’s response to the kiss. She carefully snuggled herself into the curves of his solid frame like pieces of a puzzle perfectly joined together.

Time stopped as they explored the sweet taste of each other with the tips of their tongues until their kisses became more intense. He ran his fingers through her hair, pressing her harder against him. She felt his heart pounding in rhythm with her own.

Pulling away ever so slightly, he sighed as their lips parted. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long. I want to be with you all night.”

Looking up at him through dark lashes, her lips numb and swollen, she whispered, “I’d not be complaining.”

He kissed her lips softly, then above each eye. “Nae, you probably wouldna, but Miss Putney will have my head if I’m late with my delivery in the morning from oversleeping.”

A shrill, sweet neigh made them laugh as they moved out of each other’s arms. A chill shivered through where Bruce’s body had kept her warm. As if reading her mind, he stepped close to her side, placing his arm around her waist and drawing her close. He led her out of the stable, and they walked the dirt path until stopping at the passenger’s side of his truck. With her body leaning against the cool door, he stole another long, lingering kiss.

Catching her foot on the empty crate, she felt Bruce’s arms tighten around her before she tripped. “Oops, I forgot that was there.”

“I’ll no have ya breaking your ankle.” He kissed her briefly and grabbed the crate, stowing it in the back of the truck. “See ya tomorrow?”

She nodded and headed over the moat, dreamlike, smiling.

With a castle full of guests, the staff’s mornings were hectic. Rogue rushed about helping Putney with the traditional breakfast fixings offered to all their guests. Her full skirts swished back and forth as she filled teapots with boiling water and freshened cups of coffee. Extra staff in suits and gloves came in and out, picking up filled trays and returning with special requests or empty plates.

Rogue brushed her hands together and looked up, noticing one of the women guests standing pale and nervous in the doorway. She rushed over and, taking the woman’s chilled hands, moved her to a safer place out of the lane of service traffic.

“Is there something wee special ya be needin’ for your meal?” Rogue asked. The woman started shaking. “Ya feeling all right, miss?” Rogue kept hold of the woman’s hands and looked over her shoulder for her aunt. She scanned the room, not finding her. “Things will be all right, I’m sure, just ... uh, blast, I’m not good at remembering names, sorry. Just tell me what has ya bothered so.”

The woman, not much older than her Aunt Baillie and dressed in casual black slacks and a tunic-length green sweater, nodded her head but nothing came out of her mouth. Rogue waited a beat, and it seemed as if the noise in the kitchen disappeared as the woman whispered, “I think my roommate is dead.”

Rogue forced herself not to scream. “Wha, what?” She squeezed the woman’s hands until a flinch snapped her focus back. “Are you sure she’s not just sleeping real sound like?” The woman’s head barely nodded.