“As long as you bring my favorite aunt, along, too,” Lauren teased.
Nervously, Reginald watched Lauren disappear before following Phoebe down a different hallway
“Just in here.” She opened the door to a bedroom and stepped aside. “This is one of our guest rooms. I believe the en-suite will have everything you need. Extra toiletries, etcetera. If not, just call out. One of us will hear you.”
She gave him a thorough head-to-toe perusal with pursed lips and calculating eyes, requiring all his will power no’ to squirm like a guilty bairn. “All muscle and plenty of it. Just like my Crayton.” Her eyes softened and she looked a wee bit wistful. “He filled up a room, my man did, but everyone flocked to him. I suspect you may be like him in more ways that just his size.” She folded her arms and gave him a sly grin. “I guess we’ll see about that, but his clothes should fit you, in any case. I’ll bring a few things to your room, while you shower.”
“Please dinnae bother yerself wi’—”
“You can wear them while I launder your plaid and longshirt. I hope you’ll indulge me, as thanks for helping Lauren. I promise to take special care of that fine tartan.”
He must have looked surprised because her lips curled into an indulgent smile. “My husband was a Scot. I had the blessed opportunity to learn of such things and how to care for them. I’ve even learned to recognize some of the clans.” She indicated the red, green and blue colors of his kilt. “Yours has a fine history. You’ve much to be proud of.”
She turned to leave, then stopped and gave him a level look. “I noticed a tear in the tail of your plaid, along with a gash and stain on your longshirt. Blood, long set, if I’m any judge. I’ll do my best to get it out, but no promises. I’d be happy to mend everything for you, though.”
He’d reached up to tug the edge of his plaid a little further across his chest to cover the blemish. He thought he’d covered the evidence of his wound, sufficiently. Lauren hadnae noticed, or if so, didnae mention it, but Phoebe’s keen eyes hadnae missed a thing.
She was right. The blood likely wouldnae be coming out. But to have his clothing, especially his tartan, mended, was a gift. And, mayhap, a good omen for his new beginning.
“ ’Twould be a kindness. I thank ye. But, dinnae fash over the torn-off area of the longshirt. Lauren’s foot needed a cold compress, and…well, ’twas the best I had, at hand.”
Phoebe’s face softened and she blinked several times. “Bless you. That’s just what my Crayton would have done,” she whispered. “Well, then,” she brightened, “I’ll leave you to it.”
Before he could gather his wits enough to ask what an en suite was, she was gone. He sighed and turned to peruse the room. The bed, large enough to accommodate three men his size, dominated the space. ’Twas high and soft to the touch. A far cry from his narrow pallet on the dirt floor of his parent’s croft. Or his sleeping hollow on the moor, or even his bed at Wickhams, grateful as he’d been for it.
His mind went to the rocky streambed he’d slept on last night, but he’d gladly spend a thousand more nights there, if he could spend them curled up with Lauren. The warmth of her body blending with his, the scent of her hair, the kiss that began soft and ended so—
The sound of a female, loudly clearing her throat, ripped him from his thoughts.
“Lunch is in an hour. We’re taking the horses out for a ride, after. Why don’t you come along?”
Deidre.
He sighed and turned to face her. Prepared for the impatience and irritation he’d seen from her thus far, he was surprised to see what looked like a flirty challenge, on her face. But why? Nae. He must be mistaken. He lacked a lot of experience with females, after all. Especially the wily ones, as he suspected Deidre to be.
“You can have first pick if you’d like.” Her voice was soft and low as she stepped into the room. “Of the horses, or…whatever else might interest you.”
There’d been a few times in his past when some internal instinct told him to run. Wi’out fail, they had proven worthy of his attention. “I thank ye, for the offer, but I dinnae wish tae intrude. I fear I’d hold ye back and hinder yer pleasure in the afternoon.”
She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “I doubt that. You’re not afraid, are you?” she challenged. “If you’re nervous about anything, I’m happy to guide you.”
“Deidre?” Phoebe appeared in the doorway, her arms laden with clothes. “There you are, dear. I believe I heard Phillip asking for you. Something about a promised walk to the bridges, before lunch?”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But convince Reginald to join us this afternoon, Aunt Phoebe. If he doesn’t, Lauren might feel like an awkward extra. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
He detected a hard edge beneath the syrup in her voice and kenned Phoebe did, as well.
“See you in an hour,” she grinned at him, and slipped past her aunt with a distinct bounce in her step.
Phoebe shook her head. “That child’s in a great big hurry, to do.”
He dinnae ken. “Tae do what?”
“Everything.” Phoebe marched past him to the bed and laid out the clothes she’d brought.
Just as she’d said, they appeared large enough to fit him, and reminded him of what most of the tourists at Culloden wore. Two pairs of jeans, a couple of shirts—much shorter than the longshirt he was used to. A belt for the jeans. And some small garments he dinnae recognize. But he refused to reveal his ignorance to Phoebe. He’d figure it out, on his own.
“I brought a couple of sizes, just in case. But try these first and we’ll go from there. I wasn’t sure if you preferred a T-shirt, or a button-down, so I brought both.” She looked up at him with mayhap the kindest expression he’d ever seen, short of his mither, and laid her hand on his arm. “You were kind to my Lauren when she needed it most. Maybe even saved her, from who knows what. You’re family now. I expect you to act like it. Treat this place as your own, for as long as you wish.”
