The Legend of Lady MacLaoch (17 page)

“Details.” He flicked his hand. “We cannae be bothered with them.” He looked over at me, amusement lighting in his eyes once more.

“Ha ha, very funny. But really, people won’t be expecting me to lift curses tomorrow night, will they?”

“Well now,” MacLaoch said, and stopped walking. “Have ye just admitted tha’ your great-great-granddad is Iain Eliphlet Minory?”

“I. No, I . . .” I stumbled, feeling caught in my words.

“Admit it.” He folded his arms across his chest, staring me down with a wolfish grin. “Ye just did, anyway.”

“I didn’t mean me, but everyone else seems to think the names are the same—
I
don’t think I should be lifting curses tomorrow, but others might not understand the complex details of the
a
versus the
o
.”

“Aye, and ye shouldn’t either.”

“Whatever,” I said, and continued walking.

Rowan kept up with me, chuckling softly under his breath. We continued down the trail.
Was he going to walk me all the way home?

“So,” I said, “what is it that you do for work?”

“Do?” He gave me a questioning look.

“Well yeah, I’m not sure what exactly a chieftain does day-to-day for work, or if it’s a full-time job or . . . ” I said, feeling the cultural divide distinctly.

“Och, well, I suppose ye could say I’m a businessman. I run the entire MacLaoch estate.”

“Oh, everything?”

“Everything, from settling small farming skirmishes, to seeking more funding for our schools and town schemes.”

“Schemes?”

“Aye, ye call them programs or projects in the States.”

“Oh, and apparently everything goes by you for approval?” I said, thinking of the research documents he’d given me yesterday.

“Aye, everything. Well, most everything. My staff is able to take care of the small daily bits, it’s no’ a luxury estate tha’ I can have a staff of a couple hundred; there are less than fifty in the peak season and now, with the gala, over a hundred, the majority temporary help.”

“Ah,” I said, “that would explain why you were out for a walk. Trying to clear your head?”

“Aye, I walk the pastures when the walls get a bit stuffy, if ye know what I mean.”

“I do. So, I take it the gathering and fundraising activities are getting a bit overwhelming?”

“There have been a few rough patches, but no, it’s going as well as can be expected for an event we’ve been doing for centuries. Only this year, one of my staff purchased over £
100,000
worth of dresses for it,” he said simply. “On the estate’s credit.”

“Wow,” I said, shocked anew—that number was close to twice that in US dollars. “Why’d she do that? Couldn’t make up her mind on which one to get?”

“That is exactly what she said. I wish I could say she is just a silly little thing—”

“—but Eryka Aase is a nasty little thing,” I finished for him.

“Aye, how did ye know?” he asked darkly.

“Ah, how do I explain this?” I felt like I was walking on eggshells. “Eryka and I have built something of a quick history since I’ve arrived. It started the other night at the bar. Just today I was looking for a dress for the Gathering and all I got was empty dress stores. I rounded the corner on the last one to see her stuffing her trunk full of clothes.”

MacLaoch was silent, absorbing all that I had said. “Ye met her the night that ye met Kelly? The night he pawed ye at the pub?”

I made a guttural sound of disgust. “Yes, that night.”

MacLaoch let out a string of words that was far from English.

“What?” I asked and then, thinking better of it, said. “Never mind. It sounds like I don’t really want to know what you said.”

He just shook his head. “Aye, I didn’t say it before because I didn’t think it mattered, but her version of tha’ night was exactly like Kelly’s.”

“Ugh. I don’t understand people like that,” I said, and I really didn’t. “You know what would be a great punishment for Kelly—in case you need ideas? Make him wear a sweater that says, ‘My name is Kelly, stay away from me and my blond friend.’”

MacLaoch snorted, looking over at me, “Ye know, ye are funny when ye are like this.”

I gave him a snarky look. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You have a way about ye,” he said, continuing without my encouragement, “very different from what I’ve seen women do, which is brood about it and get weepy. Ye, though. I dinnae know.” He let his words roll, unformed, between us.

“Go on, say it. Don’t forget we’re well
acquainted
,” I said, using the word he’d said to me the other day.

To my surprise, he did. “Aye well, ye have a way about ye, good-natured, when ye want,” he said, thinking about it. “Though I have to say that despite all tha’, ye are a Minory, and that lot are legendary aggressors. Come to think of it, I was in grave danger yesterday when I insulted ye—”

“Which time?” I asked innocently, knowing he probably meant when he offered me money—it was the only time I’d really been steamed with him.

“If ye dinnae remember I’ll no’ be reminding ye,” he said, and actually looked relieved.

“The bribe, you mean?”

“Och,” he said, disgusted with himself, it seemed. “Aye, tha’. And it wasn’t a bribe.”

“I’ll not be forgetting that moment anytime soon,” I said. Then added, “Because you owe me one.”

“Aye, well,” he said, “I’m just glad to still be alive, ye being a Minory and all. Hell hath no fury, aye?”

“Like a woman mythologized?” I finished for him and laughed. “The clan chief of MacLaoch scared? I doubt it.”

MacLaoch smiled over at me “Deathly afraid.”

“But we still don’t understand why Eryka loathes me,” I said, coming back around to the point at hand. “Are she and Kelly dating?” I asked.

“Dating? No.”

The implications of what Kelly and Eryka
were
doing hung in the air between us, neither of us wanting to mention that imagery.

“Now tha’ I know it’s ye that she’s aiming at,” he continued, “I think I have some idea on why she’s set her sights on ye.”

“Really? Enlighten me.”

“Eryka’s a jealous woman—” he said and broke off the thought as if checking himself.

“And?”

He was silent for a bit and then said, “Ye have what she wants.”

I thought about that. I have what she wants. What did I have?

“What do you mean I have what she wants? Being American? Not having a job, because that’s certainly not perfect. Curly hair?”

MacLaoch didn’t respond right away. I could feel the wall being built, once again, between us—building itself brick by brick.

“Doesn’t matter anyhow. She’s not in my employ anymore.”

“You fired her?”

“Aye, I did.”

“Oh.”

We were quiet the rest of the way back to Carol and Bill’s, each of us immersed in internal dialogues. Mine was very much on the hamster wheel of:
He fired Eryka? What did he mean, I have what she wants, and should I be sure to look over my shoulder more often?

He, I had no doubt, was concerned about how much he had shared with me and was admonishing himself for all that he had divulged.

Rowan spoke again as we came to a stop at the B&B’s stoop. “Were ye able to get a dress for tomorrow?”

“I did. I’m actually getting one made at the dress shop down the way from here.”

“Is that with Wanda?” he asked. Small towns made the guessing easy.

“Yes, it is. Have you seen anything she’s done?”

“Aye, I’ve heard she’s quite good.”

“Yes,” I said as I fished my key out of my pocket. “The fabrics she has there are incredible, better than anything I’d be able to get from the dress shops. In a way, Eryka helped me out there.”

“Aye, I should have recommended her to
ye . . . ”
he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said in a rush, awkwardness replacing the ease we’d had between us not so long ago. “The dress she’s making me for tomorrow night is amazing. Wanda described it best—she said that you will be amazed because it’ll move like water against my skin and puddle around my ankles when it comes off.” I realized, too late, what I had just said. Aloud. I did not check his reaction. “Goodnight!” I rushed into the B&B, slamming the door behind me and leaping the stairs two at a time.

In my room, I threw my keys on the bed, light still off and just stood, then pinched the bridge of my nose in disbelief.

I crept to the window, staying in the shadows, and looked down to the front door. Rowan was standing there, hands in his pockets, face tilted up at the second floor. Then, slowly, a grin broke out on his face; he turned from the door and took his time walking down the sidewalk back to Castle Laoch.

CHAPTER 23

M
onday arrived and the butterflies in my stomach almost made me lose my breakfast on the way to Wanda’s dress shop. Not only was I about to try on a dress hand made for me and that I would wear at a gala that night, but I’d realized that morning, thanks to Carol’s squeals about it, that I had no shoes and no jewelry besides my simple gold bangles. And even if everything superficial somehow turned out just dandy, I was walking into some big stuff tonight: the research opportunity of a lifetime, a very public date with a very public official and, not to mention, a centuries-old curse.

“Gute! You are here! Here is your dress!” Wanda exclaimed.

I instantly forgot all the worries I’d carried into her shop with me.

“It’s. It’s. Whoa.”

The dress hung simply on a hanger on a coatrack in the middle of the small shop, but as I closed the door behind me a faint draft caught the edge of the dress and it moved like liquid.

“Try, try!”

Wanda locked the door, pulled the drapes, and changed the door sign to say Closed. I tried on the dress and held my breath.

“Oh,” I breathed out.

The dress
moved
, whispering in harmony with the creamy gold of my
skin. My copper curls showed off the subtle highlights in the icy green. I’d never felt so beautiful in my life—the dress literately floated against my curves like, yes, oil against water. The straps were gauzy, so they looked like tiny wings and finished the otherworldly feeling of the dress. Wanda hadn’t been kidding—I had no doubt that when I took the dress off, it would pool like water at my feet. I just hoped Rowan didn’t think that when he saw me.

Wanda nodded, beaming at me. “Gute, very gute. Now, the finishing touches,” she said and held out a white fur stole and silver shoes.

After trying on the dress for fit, I spent the rest of the day under Wanda’s watchful eye. Turned out that Wanda was the oldest of ten sisters and as much a wizard with hair and makeup as she was with cloth. At a quarter until seven, there was a rap on the door. Wanda left me to put on my shoes, and I took one last look at myself in the mirror as I did so. My red-stained lips were Wanda’s final accent for my ensemble—she said that she wanted people to hear what I had to say. Or at least look like they were listening.

When I stood up and looked to the door, my butterflies fluttered back in full force.

Up until this moment, I realized, I had been walking on the outside of Scottish culture. Only there, standing at the front of the shop, was true Scotland in my world.

The MacLaoch chieftain stood tall in his formal clan regalia. Extra fabric from his kilt draped over his shoulder; there was a decorative knife at his calf, and at his waist, a fur pouch. The silver brooch that secured the red tartan to his black evening coat at his shoulder matched the one on the waist bag, both emblazoned with the clan crest.

“Hi,” I said, realizing that I had just raked him head to toe with my eyes. His expression was one of a man trying to hold and catch his breath at the same time.

“Good evening Ms. Baker,” he said quietly.

Wanda stood between us beaming—then, realizing I hadn’t moved, came over to usher me to him. She propelled us both out the door with exclamations that she had work to do for my next dress.

Rowan helped me into the dark chauffeured car waiting outside the dress shop and slid in after me.

“God help me, I cannae imagine what the next one will look like. I’m not sure I can take it,” he mumbled as we got under way.

“What?” I asked, not sure that I’d heard him correctly.

“Nothing. Ye look well this evening, Ms. Baker,” he revised.

“Thank you,” I said, still taking in the full ensemble of his attire. “You look nice, too—though I have to say it’s the first time I’ve been out with a man in a skirt,” I said and smiled, waiting for the dirty look that was sure to follow.

Rowan cut his glance over to me. “Skirt? Oh aye, you’re having a laugh,” he said, and looked away.

“That I am. Really though, I’ve never seen a full evening suit with a kilt.” I touched a finger to the woolen fabric. “Seems like I should be wearing a tartan and not mink.” Realizing I was touching his thigh, I snatched my hand back and instead worked my nervous fingers in the large fluff of my stole, the fur moving under my breath as I looked down at it.

“I think you will be excused. You will not disappoint for sure.” Then, as if just remembering something, he said, “Though I had thought to bring you something.” He lifted a black felt box that had been camouflaged on the black leather seat between us in the darkened cab and opened it.

“Those had better be on loan or cubic zirconium,” I choked out. The necklace was a cascade of diamond lace dripping into a single teardrop-shaped stone the size of my thumb. The earrings were two more tears.

“Turn around.”

“You’re kidding,” I said, but did, pulling my hair out of the way.

As soon as the weight of the stones was around my neck and safely secured, there was no doubt they were real. I touched them, and my fingers warmed.

I turned to face him. “Rowan,” I said softly, “please tell me these are rented.”

“Why?” he said, and placed a large drop at my ear. I was no help.

“Because, these are worth millions!” I whispered, exasperated.

Who the hell gave diamonds to a woman on their first date?

“No, Cole,” he said. The single syllable of my name was infused with the weight and emotion of what he was giving me. “These are not worth a thing.” And he fastened the other drop at my other ear. Rowan’s fingers ran warm along my jaw, tracing, memorizing. “They are priceless.” He looked at my lips, then back into my eyes. Slowly, I felt him shift, his fingers stronger against my chin, encouraging.