Kitty looked back and forth between them, pleased with herself and tipping her head none too subtly at Atholl to say something.
Atholl cleared his throat, drawing his chair in and shuffling some papers in his hands, until at last he looked up. ‘Mornin’, Beattie. Good walk yesterday?’
‘Beattie!’ Kitty spluttered with a laugh that she couldn’t hold in and promptly got up and left the table.
‘Where are you away to?’ Atholl asked her.
‘I’ll bring us some coffee. You cannae have a meeting without coffee, Atholl.’ As Kitty left the room, and consumed with the wicked spirit of revenge, she threw a wink over Atholl’s back towards Beatrice.
‘You dinnae mind me calling you Beattie just now? I dinnae ken why I did that.’
Beatrice was surprised to find she didn’t mind it one bit, even though it was a name she’d have associated with her great granny’s generation. ‘I like it. Seth gave it to me, my Highland nickname.’
‘That’s right, he did.’
Beatrice could have sworn that a look of blushing shame crossed Atholl’s face as they both remembered the way they’d sniped at one another less than a week ago and how he’d chided her for the fact she wouldn’t be sticking around long enough for nicknames.
Realising they were both still looking at each other and nobody was saying anything, Beatrice rushed out some words. ‘Umm, so, yeah… I had a perfect day yesterday. Thanks for the picnic. We both loved it. Echo and I, that is.’
‘I wondered where the wee menace had got to.’
‘My dog in shining armour. I think he was protecting me from adders.’
‘I hate to burst yur bubble but he’d have run a mile had he seen one. Hates ’em.’
She found she was still watching him and it was hard to draw her eyes away from his pale curling lips. Had he looked this good before she spent her day alone thinking about his kindness and how she’d caused him nothing but trouble since she arrived?
‘Well, there were no snakes, thankfully, and it was actually really,really, peaceful out there. I don’t think I could have got a day like that anywhere else in the world but here in the Highlands.’
‘I’m glad tae hear that. I missed you though.’ Atholl blurted the words before inhaling a breath that stopped his lips and widened his eyes.
‘Coffee’s up!’ called Kitty as she bustled in with a tray and Gene, still dressed in his chef’s whites, loping placidly behind her.
Beatrice, a little put off by the interruption and wanting to hear more about all the missing her that Atholl had been doing, eyed Kitty’s tray as it was set down, noticing eight tumblers amongst the steaming mugs. ‘Whisky? I’ll stick to coffee thanks.’
‘The whisky’s no’ for us,’ said Atholl. ‘You’ll see,’ he added wryly.
Beatrice shrugged, amused. ‘O-kay.’
She passed Atholl his mug, turning the handle to face him before reaching for her own, not noticing the little lift in his brows at that gesture.
Aware that he was watching her as she took her first sip, it was just possible she exaggerated the long ‘mmm’ as she lowered the mug again and rubbed her shoulders into the chair contentedly. ‘Nice coffee, thanks Kitty.’
Kitty smirked knowingly as she settled beside Gene, her hand sliding over his thigh as she pulled her chair closer to his.
For a moment all eyes fell on Gene who had the look of a lottery winner upon his face. Beatrice was aware of Atholl bobbing his head and smiling to himself at the sight of the new couple. She wondered if he too could feel the charge in the air that they were creating and a part of her wished she could mirror Kitty by reaching across the table and laying a hand upon Atholl, but of course, she couldn’t. That would be totally inappropriate. They were just friends, after all, and if she wanted more she’d have to tentatively find out whether he really was interested in her. And just how did she go about doing that again? Asking him suddenly seemed impossible.
‘Go ahead, Bea, call the meeting…’ Kitty prompted.
‘Me?’
‘We all ken you’requitethe organiser.’ This was delivered with a salacious twist of her lips.
‘And we’re glad o’ it,’ Gene piped up, pressing his hand on top of Kitty’s against his thigh, making Kitty turn her eyes back to his and they both seemed to get lost in their shared gaze.
A little flustered, and a tiny bit jealous, Beatrice shifted in her chair so she wouldn’t have to watch Eugene and Kitty’s flirting. ‘Ahum,’ she cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. ‘OK…um, this is the Harvest Home ceilidh planning committee. Ihaveactually made a few notes.’ She drew out the list she’d hastily scribbled last night. ‘First… music?’
‘I’ve had the Garleton band booked in since last year,’ said Atholl. ‘I’m picking up one of the lads from Fort William on Saturday morning and the rest are coming in their van with their instruments in the afternoon.’
