The Laird and I: A Kilts and Quilts of Whussendale novella (11 page)

Sophie could’ve cleared things up and mentioned Ramsay was her cousin, but she wanted to hurt Hugh, like he’d done to her.

“He’s my ride.”

***

Hugh wanted to punch the bloke in the jaw. He remembered him—
Ramsay
, Amy had called him. He was from Gandiegow. Hugh had seen him at the céilidh last summer. Where Hugh had acted the stubborn prat. He should’ve danced with Sophie. He should’ve made her his then.

Hugh stepped into Sophie’s path. “Ye don’t have to do this, lass.”

The Wallace and the Bruce each rubbed up against her, also presenting their arguments as to why she should stay.

Ramsay looked to Sophie. “What is it? Stay or go?”

“I’m ready.” She sounded sad, but determined.

The bloke grabbed her bag and her lamp. For a moment, Hugh thought Ramsay might give them a moment to say good-bye in private, but the bastard just stood there, waiting for Sophie to go out first.

Hugh reached for her, but she sidestepped him and fled into the night.

Ramsay shrugged. “The lass has made her decision.” And he was gone, too, closing the door behind them.

Hugh punched the wall, barely feeling the bruising of his knuckles. The dogs whined. The Wallace went to the door and scratched at the ancient entry, barking. The Bruce began to howl.

“Enough,” Hugh yelled, but it did no good.

“What’s all this racket?” Aunt Davinia said, coming in from the kitchen. “I stopped by to borrow some clotted cream for tomorrow morning’s scone and find this. Where’s Sophie?”

The dogs ran to his aunt as if to tattle.

She glared at him sideways. “What did ye do, Hugh-boy?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t do anything. I told Sophie she was going to be my wife, and she couldn’t be rid of me fast enough.”

He didn’t add that she’d left with another man. Hugh wanted to howl like the dogs.

Auntie snapped her fingers, and both beasts sat, as if turned to porcelain. She narrowed her gaze on Hugh. “So did ye tell the lass that ye’ve finally come to yere senses, that ye love her?”

“She didn’t exactly give me the chance.”

“No, ye didn’t give
her
a chance,” his aunt said. “She needed to hear it from you, how ye feel about her, the words from yere heart. What did ye do? Did ye just tell her how it was going to be? Of course that’s what ye did!”

She motioned to the Wallace and the Bruce. “Dammit, Hugh, she’s not one of the hounds. She wants to be asked. She wants to be wooed. She wants to be cherished.” Auntie shook her head with more disappointment than he’d ever seen from her. “Get off yere arse and go after her. Do it right now, for goodness’ sake.”

He started to argue. But, dammit, it didn’t matter that Ramsay might be a towering, warrior of a Scot, Hugh’s equal. Hugh had something greater going for him. He loved Sophie!

“Come on, Wallace. Ye, too, Bruce. We’re going after the mistress of the castle.”

***

Sophie cried silently in the darkness as Ramsay drove. As she’d expected, she didn’t have to explain anything to him.

Back home in Gandiegow, though, Sophie couldn’t dodge her mama’s scrutiny. Annie hovered and clucked, made her a cup of tea, and sat with her on the couch. At Mama’s insistence, Da came in and sat with them, too.

Sophie didn’t tell them anything, though Annie had tried every trick in the book to get her to spill it.

“Ye talk to her, Russ. She needs to tell us what happened so we can help her.” Annie patted her on the hand, and then glared at Sophie’s da.

Da leaned forward, giving Sophie a look of understanding. “Ye don’t have to tell us a thing. Ye only need to give me the nod, and I’ll give Hugh McGillivray a visit he won’t soon forget.”

Sophie loved these people, but she was done being their troubled daughter. “Nay. It’s not Hugh’s fault. It’s me.”

“What do ye mean it’s yere fault? Nighean, ye’re perfect,” Annie said.

Sophie considered hurling her mug at the hearth, but it was Mama’s favorite. “You and I know I’m far from perfect.”

Maybe it was time for some gut-wrenching honesty between her and her parents. “I heard you and Da speaking before I left to housesit at Hugh’s.”

Her mother looked at her, confused. “About what?”

Da grabbed a fishing magazine from the coffee table and leaned back in his recliner.

Just as he was opening the pages, Sophie jumped in with both feet. “I heard you two agree that I was past my prime. Too old to find anyone. Too bossy.”

Da dropped his magazine, straightening back up, his attention on her. “What are ye talking about, hen? I never…” His voice trailed off.

Mama stared at Da, very serious-like. “No.”

The two of them burst out laughing, Annie clutching Sophie’s da.

“I don’t see anything funny here,” Sophie said.
This day had gone from bad to worse
.

Mama calmed a little and patted Sophie’s arm. “Ye got it all wrong. We were speaking of Deydie, not you.”

“Da, what’s Mama talking about?” Sophie asked.

Her father pulled out a wrinkled handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. He shoved it back into his pocket. “Yere mama and the other ladies of Gandiegow think ol’ Deydie and Abraham Clacher would make a fine couple. But, good grief, I don’t see it. That woman is too old and crotchety, and Abraham is too salty of a fisherman, for those two”—he chuckled again—“for those two to get married.”

“See, nighean, we weren’t talking about ye after all. Ye just misheard.”

Sophie didn’t have time to process the revelation as someone started pounding on the door. She went to answer it. Ramsay stood there, but then the Wallace and the Bruce tore past him in a blur and jumped on her.

They would’ve knocked her over, too, if two strong arms hadn’t caught her. It wasn’t Ramsay who held her either.

“Down, boys,” Hugh said. Ramsay had been shoved to the side.

Ramsay tipped an imaginary hat at Hugh. “My work here is done.” Then Ramsay was gone.

Hugh shut the door behind him, still holding on to her, keeping the dogs at bay—sort of. Based on the way he was holding her, he wasn’t letting go.

The laughter in the living room had come to a complete halt. Da rose and came to stand near Sophie. Hugh wrapped a protective arm around her—or was that a possessive arm?—and pulled her tightly against his side.

“Do I need to have a talk here with yere young man, daughter?” Da was an inch shorter than Hugh, but her da was giving him a glare that would’ve had a lesser man running for the door.

“I’d introduce myself, sir, but apparently ye already know who I am,” Hugh said respectfully, but firmly. “May I speak with yere daughter alone?”

Da looked to Sophie, and she nodded.

“I’ll leave ye be,” her father said. “For now. But the second she’s done with ye, ye better let her out of your grasp.” He glared at the hand that gripped her shoulder.

“Sophie, we’ll be in our room, if ye need us.” Mama took Da’s hand and led him away.

Sophie broke free and went to the couch. The dogs went with her, climbing up, each laying their heads in her lap.

“What do you want, Hugh? I heard all I needed to hear back at yere castle.”

A strange thought hit Sophie. If she’d been wrong about her parents and what they thought of her, maybe she was wrong about Hugh, too. She scratched the Bruce behind the ears as he groaned.

She kept her gaze down as Hugh walked into the living room and sat in her da’s recliner. She did a double take. He was wearing the kilt she’d made for him.

“There are things I failed to say.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

The emotion behind his words forced her to peek at him. He sat forward, making the old recliner creak and looked vulnerable. She wanted to go to him and put her arms around him, but she couldn’t…not until she was certain why he’d chased her through the night and what he’d come to say.

He leaned closer. “I got the order all screwed up.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” And it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

He cleared his throat and swallowed. “I should’ve told ye how much ye’ve come to mean to me, Sophie Munro.”

The Wallace yawned loudly and stretched further across her lap.

She wanted to say,
And?
Because her traitorous heart was impatient and hopeful that Hugh really did care for her.

He took her hand. “I should’ve told ye that I loved yere arms being wrapped around me night after night.”

Da harrumphed loudly from the other room.

Hugh glanced in that direction, but soldiered on. “I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. I haven’t had a nightmare all week. But most of all, ye helped me to remember all the wonderful things in life—past, present, and future. Ye’ve healed me.” He kissed her palm. “I should’ve told ye that I love ye. Ye made me whole again, lass, and I’d be a fool not to claim ye as mine for always.”

Mama’s “ahhh”
slipped from under their bedroom door.

Hugh got down on his knee and took Sophie’s other hand from the Wallace. “Please say that ye’ll marry me, Sophie.”

“Down, boys,” she commanded, and for a second, Hugh pulled back. “Not you. You stay.”

She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him. Mama and Da started to bicker in the other room. Sophie didn’t get a chance to answer Hugh before Mama burst through her bedroom door, dragging Da behind her.

“So what did ye say?” Her mother stopped short at the sight of Sophie and Hugh kneeling on her living room floor, arms around each other. “Oh. Then ye’ve told the lad yes?”

Sophie got to her feet, pulling Hugh to his as well. Da, blushing and looking uncomfortable, was tugging Mama’s hand, trying to get her to go back to the bedroom with him. But Mama wasn’t budging.

Da shot Sophie a look. “Answer the lad, daughter, so yere mother and me can be off to bed.”

Sophie turned to Hugh and gazed into his lovely brown eyes.

“Aye, I’ll marry ye. But on one condition.”

Both of her parents gasped at her audacity.

Sophie ignored them. “I’ll marry ye as long as ye’ll always kiss me as ye do now.”

“Aye,” Hugh vowed.

She pushed his hair away from his eyes—eyes that held
love for her
. “Ye’ve become my sunshine in the darkness. Did ye know that?”

“And ye’ve become mine as well.”

Hugh kissed her then, and the world spun deliciously out of control, making her dizzy with joy. When she opened her eyes sometime later, she was settled on the couch, her parents were off to bed for the night, and the Wallace and the Bruce were asleep in front of the fire.

And the Laird? Well, he was right where she wanted him. He was in her arms, nibbling on her ear, making plans about their life to come, all in that voice of his that had her melting a hundred different ways.

“And ye’ll always be mine, Sophie,” he declared.

She smiled obediently. “Aye. I know. Because the Laird says so.”

“Nay. Because ye’re a treasure. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making ye the happiest woman alive.”

And he did.

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