“It's not practical to wear every day, particularly when I’m in Glasgow. I prefer trousers.”
Graham's words sounded practiced as if he had recited them often. What a strange thing to notice.
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, having lost her train of thought. “Oh no. It's just that, well, I think I had assumed everyone here wore kilts and plaids all the time.” Her cheeks warmed. “I supposed that's a bit foolish.”
“No,” he said, his tone low. “I don't think that's foolish at all.”
She gave him a self-deprecating grin.
“There's no need to tiptoe around me, Mr. MacKinnon. I'm quite aware of how ridiculous I can be sometimes. My imagination is extensive. My grandmother always told me that I should remain firmly in the present, as I tend to drift away in one of my daydreams.”
His green eyes glanced at her.
“I don't think a healthy imagination is ridiculous. It's natural to be curious. You had a dream and it was a Scottish dream, so I certainly can't fault you for that.”
She tried to smother her smile as she twisted away from him. It was amazing how nervous he made her, yet she felt equally excited.
Just then a young boy, no more than ten, came running by. Hoping to avoid returning to the kilt shoppe with Graham in tow, she stopped the boy.
“Excuse me?” she said, waving her hand a bit to catch the lad’s attention.
“Who? Me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said bending slightly at the waist. Turning, she pointed to the gingerbread cart. “Would you be a dear and go tell those two ladies that their sister wishes for them to pick up her pin brooch locket from the kilt shop?” The boy made a face, as if to convey that he had far more important things to tend to. Reaching into her reticule, Hope pulled out a half crown coin. “Please?”
The youth’s bright eyes lit up as he took her offering.
“Yes, my lady!” he said with a quick nod, before bounding towards Hope’s sisters.
As she straightened up, she saw Graham giving her the strangest of looks.
“What?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Nothing. It’s just that you’re awfully trusting.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged and continued watching her.
“It’s just not something one sees often. Especially from a Londoner.”
“Well, as I’m originally from Cornwall, I’ll forgive you that statement, but I assure you, I’ve rarely been given a reason not to trust people.”
“Which means you’ve been kept sheltered.”
Hope frowned slightly as they continued their walk.
“Not completely. It’s just that I’ve a strong belief that if people are given the benefit of the doubt, they’ll prove themselves worthy of it. For the most part, people do the right thing.”
“But not always?”
“No, but often enough to secure my view on humanity.”
“And what a view it must be,” he said, his deep tone tinged with sarcasm.
