Alec silently counted backwards in Gaelic, willing himself to calm down to tactical planning mode. He had some fences to mend and perhaps wee Esme could help since it was quite obvious that Sadie liked the girl. He leaned forward, gentling his tone as he held out a hand to his sister. “I give ye my word. I’ll do my best to start treating ye like a young adult rather than a child.”
Esme just glared down at his extended hand, her lower lip sticking out even farther.
“Esme.” Sadie nudged the young girl’s arm. “Come on. You’ve got to meet him halfway. That’s what adults do.”
“Fine.” Esme gripped Alec’s hand and pumped it up and down. “I’ll do my best to behave as long as you stop acting like a pompous addle-pated numpty.”
“No wonder she got aBin algebra,” Sadie observed. “It’s obvious literature is her strong suit. Good vocabulary, Esme.”
Before Alec could comment, Sadie waved Esme toward the back stairwell leading up to the level of the keep containing the family’s suite of bedrooms. “Hurry and get changed into something warmer. You’ll freeze to death in that skimpy tunic and those thin leggings. Filming starts early. I think the first scene was scheduled for sunrise, so they’ve already been at it for a couple of hours by now.”
“I’ll be right back.” Esme dashed across the room and up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
“She didna argue.” Alec sat back in his chair, stunned by the ease with which Sadie had just handled Esme. “How the hell did ye manage that? Dealing with Esme is usually like stroking an angry hedgehog. Backwards.”
“I’m not a threat in the pecking order around here.” Sadie finished her coffee and rose from her seat. “She’s the baby with four bossy older brothers. She feels like she’s always got something to prove. Give her time and try not to wring her neck. She’s a good kid. She’ll be fine.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about.” Alec shook his head as they headed down the winding staircase to the foyer. “’Tis the rest of us surviving that concerns me.” He held open the door, peering up at the murky sky above the treetops. A storm was coming and the wind had a wintry bite to it. The weather forecast had called for rain again today, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a healthy dose of sleet and perhaps a bit of light snow was in the mix as well. “Yer sister will make her movie in this weather?”
Sadie laughed as she hopped into the passenger side of the Jeep. “The movie is set in Scotland. This weather’s perfect.”
A gust of wind slammed a spattering of raindrops hard against the windshield. Alec pointed at the minuscule bits of ice sliding down the glass. “The ground is still warm enough tokeep the roads from freezing but that ice will coat everything else. How will her crew protect all those contraptions they were dragging about?”
“Geez, it’s colder than a well-digger’s butt today! I’m glad you suggested I change.” Esme slammed the back door of the Jeep closed, then clicked her seatbelt across her lap.
“Colder than a well-digger’s butt?” Sadie repeated, a perplexed look arching her brows to her hairline.
“One of Mistress Lydia’s many sayings, only Esme cleaned it up a bit.” Alec winked at Esme in the rearview mirror. “Well done, lass. I appreciate ye refraining from using the wordarse.”
His heart warmed as his little sister gifted him with a genuine smile. Aye and for certain, Sadie belonged here—with him. She was a good tonic for them all.
The warm feeling left him as they neared the location for the day’s filming. Just a few more miles and the outsiders would be well within the forbidden perimeter of land surrounding Castle Danu. Alec was not pleased. He’d made it quite clear that Realm Spinners Productions was to go nowhere near the castle.
“They’ve made a mess of things and they’re too damn close to the castle.” Alec stopped the Jeep on the narrow shoulder of the road. “Look at the way they’ve trashed and rutted the land.”
The trucks hauling the heavy equipment—the booms, camera trolleys, lighting equipment, and generators—had cut through the soft rain-soaked ground, leaving deep, gaping furrows crisscrossed down the hillside. The rising winds had ripped the sheets of clear plastic free of the equipment, sending the tangled mess flapping and rolling across the muddied clumps of turf until it snagged around the trunks of nearby trees.
“I’ll make sure it’s all cleaned up.” Sadie’s voice sounded sad and hollow. Her face was drawn and pale in the weak light of the dreary day. “I promise. We’ll make it right even if I have to clean it up myself.”
“Who is that?” Esme scooted up between the front seats and pointed toward a scowling man stomping across the field. Struggling to keep up with the angry man’s long stride and keep an umbrella over his head was a short, pudgy male who greatly resembled a wet sheepdog. His shaggy mop of gray hair was plastered to his face and dripping strands were stuck across the thick lenses of his wire-framed glasses. It was a wonder the poor man could see at all.
“That’s Delia’s Highland hero and the assistant that’s supposed to be keeping him happy,” Sadie said.
“He looks pissed,” Esme observed.
“Esme!” Alec turned in his seat. “A young lady doesna use the wordpissed.” Although he had to admit, Esme had made an accurate observation.
“Well he does,” Esme defended. “Just look at him.”
“Aye,” Alec agreed. “He’s also dressed wrong if this film is supposed to be taking place in the thirteenth century. That type of kilt and waistcoat that man’s a-wearin’ didna appear in Scotland before the sixteenth century.”
“I tried to explain that to Delia,” Sadie said, “but she wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted that these costumes are what viewers expect.”
A bedraggled-looking woman, cheeks overly rouged, mascara running, and voluptuous bosoms about to jiggle free of her loosely laced gown, stumbled across the rough terrain with an umbrella clutched in one hand and a lit cigarette pinched between the fingers of the other. Her pale face pulled into an even sharper scowl as she took a deep hit off the cigarette, then huffed the smoke out her nose.
“There’s a whore in this movie?” Alec folded his hands atop the steering wheel. The more he learned about this film, the less he desired to see the finished product.
“She’s not the whore. She’s the laird’s wife.” Sadie shrugged. “She just looks a little rough right now because she’s out of character. I’m sure they’ll clean her up before the next scene.”
