Must Love Highlanders (17 page)

“I’ll be all right, Mama. I promise.”

“But at any time, if you need me, just ring me up. I’ll come straightaway and cart ye home,” Annie said.

“Aye,” Deydie chimed in. “Ye’ll probably turn tail, but make sure ye have the woolens picked out first. We’ll need those for the next quilting retreat.”

Deydie made it sound like Sophie wouldn’t last the night, but she held her tongue. Deydie was a force to be reckoned with, especially if she had her broom nearby to take a swing at you.

“Ye don’t have to do this,” Annie said. From this angle Sophie could tell her mama was chewing her lower lip again.

“But I do.” Sophie had promised. She’d told Hugh McGillivray by email that she’d housesit for him. She’d also promised Deydie that she’d apprentice with the kiltmaker at Hugh’s woolen factory for the next week. “It’s all set. The plans are made.”

“But…if—” her mother started again.

“Dammit, Annie, stop hovering,” Deydie barked. She had a way of knocking you off guard and keeping ye on edge. “The lass needs to put her talents to good use. She’s a hell of a stitcher. Ye know why we need her to expand her skills. When I almost didn’t get Dominic’s kilt in time for Christmas, I made a decision. And when I make a decision, by goodness, it’s going to get done—Sophie here, will become Gandiegow’s new kiltmaker.” The old woman wrenched her head around to bark at Sophie, too. “Kiltmaking would be one hell of a skill to bring to the table. Maybe run retreats where you can teach the craft to others.”

“We’ll see.” Sophie concentrated on the view instead of the lecture.

“There’s no we’ll see about it, girl.” Deydie faced forward and nodded her head with finality. “Ye’ll do it.”

Sure, Sophie wanted to learn the art of kiltmaking—she was just sick to death of being told what to do.

A second structure came into view, opposite the castle, high on a hill—a ruin. A fence had been placed around the stone fortress, but some of the walls still stood proudly, stretching to the sky. First chance she had, winter or not, Sophie would explore every inch of it. The stones had withstood centuries of dark seasons and needed no bright lights to shore them up.

Deydie harrumphed, her signature sound, a cross between an angry walrus and a beached whale. “Aye, ye’ll apprentice with the kiltmaker while ye’re housesitting. But just as importantly, we’re all counting on ye to use that good eye of yours to find us some nice wool oddments. The wool quilt retreat is in six weeks, and we’ll need every remnant you can lay your hands on.”

“Fine. I’ll pick out some top-quality remnants.”

Gandiegow had been building up its reputation as the quilting destination in the Highlands. Everyone in the village contributed. Up until now, Sophie had been unable to do much, especially in the winter months, but now that she was better, she was eager to do her part and give back to the community.

She didn’t say any more to her mother and Deydie, only stared out the window as Hugh’s castle grew and the snow-covered gardens came into view.

She’d met Hugh last summer when he came to Gandiegow’s midsummer céilidh and dance. Amy, Sophie’s good friend and Hugh’s cousin, had insisted that she and Hugh were perfect for each other and that dancing at the céilidh would be the ideal time to bring them together. Amy and Hugh may have been raised together by their aunt—as close as any brother and sister—but apparently, Amy didn’t know squat about Hugh now that he was grown. He wasn’t the fun-loving, happy-go-lucky lad that Amy described. He’d been an irritatingly handsome brute, who couldn’t be bothered to dance with Sophie, even though Amy had insisted.

Sophie had shown him. It had been July, when the days were long with her seasonal depression in remission. She’d exacted revenge by flirting with every eligible man in the room, danced with as many of the fishermen that she could coax out onto the floor, and had finally persuaded Ramsay Armstrong to walk her home…making sure that Hugh saw that she’d left with another man. But Sophie and Ramsay were only friends. Hugh also didn’t know that Ramsay didn’t date the lasses from Gandiegow—too much gossip for him. Besides, Sophie had never seen Hugh again. Although, she’d thought many times about his handsome face and that look of confusion and pain that had been painted there as she’d sashayed out the door.

Sophie twisted the Munro tartan scarf in her lap. Thank goodness, I won’t have to see him now.

Actually, she’d been shocked when Amy had mentioned this housesitting gig. She’d been even more shocked when she’d received an email from Hugh himself. He’d been surprisingly pleasant over the Internet, explaining that he’d be in America for the next week, and would she mind watching his house for him? Perfect timing, as far as Sophie was concerned. She was more than ready for an adventure, to do something on her own. A lass of twenty-five needed breathing room from her parents. And her village!

Annie pulled the car to the front of Hugh’s home and turned off the engine. She let out a low whistle. “’Tis beautiful.”

“It’s too big for any one person,” Deydie said. “A lass could lose herself in a place like this.”

Sophie was counting on it. She was here on a mission to reinvent herself—ready to prove to everyone that she was capable…now that she was doing better.

She pulled out the email with the instructions on it, though she knew every word by heart. “The key is under the small bird statue on the porch.”

As she got out, the cold January breeze blew her in the direction of the castle and the many steps that led up to the massive oak double doors. Beside the entry was a stone table, and on top of the table was a small stone bird. But she didn’t immediately run up the salted stairs and retrieve the key. Instead, she permitted herself a quick spin to take in the panoramic of the castle, the gardens, the loch, and the hills, before trekking to the back of the vehicle to unload her luggage.

Annie stood beside the SUV, chewing her lip. Deydie, though, gazed up at the castle. Was the old woman itching to get inside and take a look around? But Sophie wanted this place to herself. Queen of the castle, as it were.

She shivered a little, standing at the bottom of the steps with her luggage around her. “Well, ye better hurry to Inverness, you two, if ye’re going to get those supplies before the shops close.” And before they all froze to death! Sophie made sure that her voice sounded as chipper and firm as the columns she stood by. “Here, Mama, let me give you a hug goodbye.”

Annie’s face twisted in conflict.

Separation anxiety. Emma had warned Sophie about it, but encouraged her to not be deterred.

Sophie wrapped her mother in her arms, feeling it, too. That pull to still be the little girl, and at the same time, a woman on her own. “I’ll be fine, Mama. I promise.”

Deydie tugged on her mother’s arm. “We best be getting on the road. We’ll have the devil of a time making it, especially if there are cattle in the road. Hairy beasts.”

Annie let go, but the tears swimming in her eyes had Sophie close to inviting them in for a cuppa. Then the strangest thing happened. Deydie reached out and touched Sophie’s cheek, something the tough Scottish woman had never done before. But if Sophie had expected soft and kind words to come from the matriarch’s mouth, she was mistaken.

“Pick out some damned good woolens, or else ye’ll be meeting with the business end of me broom when ye get home.”

Sophie secured her tartan scarf more firmly around her neck. Deydie’s hard words had only made it easier to see them go. As the Land Rover made its way down the driveway, Sophie didn’t budge. As soon as the car was out of sight, she ran up the front steps and pulled out the key from under the stone bird.

The email had listed a few chores that were to be done daily, but to a woman who hailed from Gandiegow, the list looked comparatively like a vacation. The first thing was to introduce herself to Hugh’s dogs, Scottish deerhounds, who were penned up in the back. However, when she unlocked the door, she was met by the two gentle giants.

“Hey, boys,” she said. Hugh had told her they weren’t aggressive, which was a blessing since they were almost three feet tall and close to her in weight.

“What are ye doing inside if the master isn’t home?”

A sinking feeling came over her. What if she’d gotten the days mixed up? What if Hugh was here? She glanced at the empty driveway. Her mother was gone, and she had no way of getting home. She checked the dates on the email.

“It all looks good.” She scratched one of the boys behind the ears. “So which one of you is the Wallace and which one of you is the Bruce?” As she read the tags on their collars, she gave them each a hug. “I guess the master decided to leave you inside to wait for me. Come on. Help me get settled.”

The dogs followed her as she carried her things into the castle, but she stopped abruptly at the ornately carved woodwork in the entryway. She took it all in—the dark crown molding, the wainscoting, the bannisters of the dual staircase. She reached out to touch the stag carved into the baluster, feeling the wood comfort her as much as any natural light. Expensive-looking vases lined tables down the hallway, and massive painted portraits hung on the walls. The castle was part museum and part home. It was ostentatious, and Sophie loved it.

Hugh had left instructions for her to stay in his room. When she’d responded that she couldn’t possibly, he’d insisted. The view from my room mustn’t be missed.

She dragged her luggage upstairs to the third floor and found his room, dropping her things in the doorway.

“Ohmigod.”

The four-poster bed was anchored with what looked like cabers and positioned at an angle so the occupant of the bed could enjoy the magnificent view. Diagonally across the room from the bed were two picture windows that hugged the corner. If both of the windows were undraped. She pulled back the curtain to see the sunlight glinting off the snow and ice-covered loch, peaceful and tranquil. The other window framed a Munro, a true Scottish mountain, with its peaks white and tall.

Sophie felt a special connection to all the Munros in Scotland as she was a direct descendent of Sir Hugh Munro who had climbed and categorized most of the elevations. She could almost imagine what the Munro would look like in the spring—lush green and scattered with white, black-faced sheep grazing at the lower levels.

“Oh, that would be a sight to see,” she said to the Wallace.

She stepped back and collapsed on the bed. The Wallace and the Bruce jumped up, joining her, making themselves comfortable on the king-sized pillows propped at the head.

“I could get used to living like this!” She centered herself between the dogs, enjoying the incredible view outside. “I’m going to love it here.” The Bruce inched closer so he could get his belly rubbed, too. For a few moments, she allowed herself to relax, but only for a few.

“Come on, fellas. Things have to get done. Let’s find yere water dishes, and then I’ll make myself familiar with the rest of the house.”

The dogs followed her back downstairs. Sophie had the place to herself. According to the email, the house staff left early on Saturdays and was off tomorrow, too. This would be her only chance to explore the house without an audience. Come Monday morning, Sophie was expected at the kiltmaker’s to begin her apprenticeship, and to meet the other workers at the wool mill.

She spent the rest of the day in glorious, quiet contentment, without another soul to tell her what to do. Cabbage and tattie soup had been left for her in the refrigerator of the professional-looking kitchen, along with a covered loaf of thick-crusted bread and a knife to cut it with. She fixed a tray and took it into the parlor, turning on all the lights. The winter days were short in the Highlands, the sun fully down by four. She cuddled with the dogs in front of a roaring fire while she ate her dinner.

Very unexpectedly, she felt lonely.

“I’ve never been away from home before,” she said to the dogs beside her.

Black clouds—very familiar and unwelcome—started to cover her. Emma had drilled into her time and time again to be proactive with her depression. As soon as the first wave of despair hit, Sophie was to plug in her therapy lamp.

The dogs followed her to the small writing table as she set up her bright-light lamp. She grabbed a tweed fashion magazine off the shelf behind her and sat browsing through it while soaking up the light.

As both dogs lay on the floor beside her, she rubbed them with her socked feet. “Ye two have to keep me from calling home to Mama. She would be nothing but worried and full of instructions for me.” The Wallace stood and rested his head in Sophie’s lap.

“Ye’re both good boys.”

After a long while, she felt better and made her way upstairs with the Wallace and the Bruce following. They watched as she unpacked her things into the three drawers that Hugh had cleared for her. Within a half hour, she had her nightgown on, her teeth brushed, and was tucked under the quilts with the dogs beside her.

Being in an unfamiliar bed should’ve felt strange. Somehow, though, she was comforted. It was either the dogs keeping her company or Hugh’s aftershave, which lingered in the room. She was on her own…for the first time in her life.

She reached over, flipped off the side lamp, and settled further under the quilts. The Wallace scooted closer, cuddling into her back. The Bruce stretched across the bottom of the bed by her feet.

But the darkness and the quiet brought back the conversation she’d overheard last night between her parents.

“It’s too late for her. She’s past her prime,” Sophie’s father said, much to her dismay. Her da was a good da. Why would he say such a thing?

“It’s never too late, if the right one comes along,” Annie argued.

“But she’s too old. Too bossy. Too set in her ways. No one will want her now.” Her da had sighed heavily. “I know ye like to believe in romantic ideas, luv, but ye need to face facts.”

Annie had agreed, and Sophie had been heartbroken.

But now she was accepting her future. She didn’t need love to make her happy. She reached back and gave the Wallace a squeeze.

Because the day had been long and the dogs were so warm and reassuring, Sophie fell fast asleep.