The Trouble with Scotland (25 page)

Sadie sat down next to Deydie and looked at her fondly. “I would love to, but I'm beat, too. I'm going to have the soup Freda left in the refrigerator and go to bed early.”

The old woman patted her hand and scooted to the edge to rise. “Are ye ready to head home then?”

“I just want to pick out some novels to take with me.”

Deydie gave her a nod. “'Night, lass.”

Sadie smiled at how much Deydie had grown on her. “Good night.”

At the door, the old woman spun around. “Tomorrow's a big day. Make sure ye get plenty of rest. Do ye hear?”

Sadie smiled. “I will.”

“I don't want to come after ye with my broom.” Deydie left without a backward glance.

Sadie picked out two books, stowed them in her Mondo bag, and headed for Thistle Glen Lodge. When she opened the door, the smell of fresh bread and garlic hit her nose.

“What in the world?” Somebody from Quilting Central must've snuck over here and left her dinner.

She dropped her Mondo bag on the couch and went to the kitchen. And stopped short when she saw the back of the big Scot in a black apron, stirring white sauce. Then he leaned over the pan and took a taste from the spoon.

As if Ross had used his superpowers to know she was there, he spoke over his shoulder. “Can ye nip off some
fresh parsley for me?” He tilted his head to the potted plant on the windowsill.

She didn't move. “How . . . Why . . .”

“The parsley first. Then you may ask yere questions.”

She pinched off a few leaves, rinsed them, and put them in the pot. “You surprised me, is all.” She glanced at the homemade bread, cooling on the rack, and squashed the feelings that rose up; he'd said that he
saw the real her
. “You made bread? All by yourself?”

He laughed. “I'm not admitting to anythin', but I might've nabbed a pan of Maggie's dough while it was rising on the counter, and baked it here.”

“What are you doing going back home if you're supposed to be contagious?” She had him now.

But he answered immediately. “I had to go back for my vitamins.” He flexed his spoon-holding arm and a bicep bulged.

Sadie's middle squeezed deliciously, remembering the feel of those muscles as his strong arms held her last night. “You risked giving your niece the measles to get your vitamins?”

“'Twas no risk. Little bug wasn't home. I wore a mask and used antibacterial hand sanitizer before entering.”

“Right. And I'm Miss Universe.”

He turned and studied her from head to foot. She couldn't tell if he was imagining her in a bathing suit contest or taking her clothes off with his eyes.

She went to the cabinet and pulled down two plates, busying herself. And changing the subject. “So you know how to cook?”

“Dominic taught me how to make his Alfredo sauce. And Kit gave me her breakfast casserole recipe when
she moved out, the same recipe she gave my mum, so I figure I have breakfast and dinner covered. Now I only need someone who can make lunch for me.” He raised his eyebrows as if Sadie should offer.

“You're on your own, buddy,” she laughed. He had a way of lightening her mood.

He made an aggrieved face. “Since the new baby came, I've been making my own.” He flexed his muscle again, peering at the huge muscle sadly. “I'm wasting away.”

She patted his back as she walked by. “I think you'll live.”

“I guess.” He dropped his arm.

She smiled. “That sauce smells amazing. When will dinner be ready?”

Sadie was pleasantly surprised that things weren't the least bit awkward between them, and they had a lovely dinner together. They really were great friends. She just needed to keep her head from entertaining pipe dreams. She was both saddened that she wouldn't experience being in his arms again, and grateful that they could still be friends.

Afterward, while they cleaned up the kitchen together, she wondered if he was going to figure out a way to go to the pub while maintaining his ruse.

Ross hung his kitchen towel over the oven handle. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?” The words sounded promising, but he wasn't acting as though he wanted to get her naked.

She told him the truth. “I picked up a few books at Quilting Central. Would you like me to read to you? You
might like them.” She tried not to think about how nice it'd been at his aunt's house in Glasgow, sitting beside him in her bed.

“A Dean Koontz novel?” he asked hopefully.

“No, Janet Chapman. I want to reread her books about the time-traveling Scottish warriors.”

He grimaced. “Is it like Jane Austen?”

“Not exactly.”

“Judging by your grin, I think I better stay away from her books, too.” He looked about the room as if the book might jump up and attack him.

“I can't believe you're frightened of a little romance.”

“Who said I was afraid?” His eyes flashed and Mr. Swagger himself sauntered toward her. He took her hand, admired it as if it was a cherished map before turning it over. His eyes came up to meet hers as he brought her palm to his lips.

Her pulse escalated and at the same time her breath hitched. He'd turned into a character from a Jane Austen novel and she—well, she was a sappy mess when it came to a charming Regency romance hero. A marshmallow melting over a flame.

“More?” he asked.

Her wobbly legs couldn't take much more, but she nodded.

He tipped her chin with his finger and kissed her tenderly, all restraint and propriety. But those qualities slipped away two seconds later as Mr. Romance turned back into the hot Scot. The kiss morphed from sweet nothings to let's-go-mess-up-the-sheets.

He pulled away, sounding out of breath. “Cards?”

She crumpled into a chair. “What?”

“Let's play cards.” He didn't wait for her answer, but walked out of the kitchen.

Cards? She wanted him to come back and do that all over again! She followed him to the living room. “What are you talking about? Gin rummy?”
Or strip poker?

“Nay. Haggis.”

She wrinkled up her nose. “The stuff made from a sheep's stomach?”

“It's a card game. I believe Cait left a deck in each of the dorms.” Ross opened the cupboard and moved around the board games. “Here it is.”

They sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table. After he explained the rules, he dealt the cards. Just as they were getting started, there was a knock at the door and people entered.

Sadie had gotten used to the townsfolk popping in to the quilting dorm, but when it was her brother, she would've liked to be on a more even footing and not sitting on the floor. She was so grateful Ross had cooled things between them earlier. Oliver looked angry enough as it was without finding her in a compromising position.

Her brother towered over her and jabbed a finger at Ross. “What is he doing here?”

Kirsty laid a hand on Oliver's arm as if to calm him.

“Playing cards with yere sister,” Ross offered.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her,” Oliver said.

Ross got to his feet, maybe a power play as he was a few inches taller than her brother. “And I made it clear I take orders from no one.”

“Enough.” Sadie stood as well and put herself between
them. “As you can see,
Ollie,
everything is on the up-and-up here. Ross has made it
perfectly clear
that we're only
friends.
So why did you stop by?”

Kirsty let go of Oliver's arm and stepped forward. “It's me. I wondered if you'd like to join our yoga class tonight.”

Gandiegow has yoga?
Sadie glanced at the Haggis cards on the coffee table. “I don't know anything about yoga.”

Kirsty looped her arm in hers. “Not to worry. It's just a restorative class. Very beginner, very basic. I figured with the wedding coming up that some of the town could use a class to unwind.”

Sadie looked at her brother. “Are
you
going to do yoga?”

“Not tonight. I'm headed up to Cait's house. She's having trouble with her Wi-Fi. I'm just walking with Kirsty as far as Quilting Central.”

“That's where we're going to hold our class,” Kirsty said.

“Go on, lass,” Ross said. “I'll clear away the cards. We can play another time.”

“If you're sure,” Sadie said. Ross was a clever one. He had found a way to stay behind without saying he would be sleeping there.

Sadie let Kirsty pull her to the door. She grabbed her sweater off the hook as she passed by.

Once they were outside, Kirsty looped her other arm through Oliver's, and they wound their way along the walk three abreast. “Ye've nothing to fear about Ross, Oliver. He's a good man. Verra polite. Last spring, we went on a couple of dates.”

“What?”
Oliver stopped and clenched his fists, but Kirsty pulled him forward again.

“Listen,” she said. “Ross never laid a hand on me. Not so much as a good night kiss. There was no chemistry between us.”

Oliver exhaled. “Then the man must be blind or gay.”

Neither of them looked in Sadie's direction, or they would have seen the shock that she felt. Kirsty was gorgeous.
Gorgeous!
Curvy, with a face beautiful enough to be on a fashion magazine.

Ross never made a move?
Sadie couldn't wrap her brain around it. She had the urge to go back to Thistle Glen Lodge and demand an explanation.

What the hell had he been thinking? If he'd dated Kirsty, then why didn't he take advantage of her perfectly pouty lips? Why didn't he have his rebound fling with
her
?

And then it hit Sadie. There could be only one answer and it hurt, really hurt. Ross kept telling her over and over what a good friend he was. When he'd kissed Sadie the first time, he'd made it clear that he wanted to give her some experience, because he'd been sure that she didn't have any. All the other kisses . . . more practice before she hit the road. Risk free, because she was leaving soon, no chance of her trying to hook him into a long-term relationship.

And them making love? Sadie wanted to sob at the truth of it.
Damn him.
Had he felt sorry for her, certain she couldn't get anyone into her bed? Once again, he'd only been trying to be a good friend. She didn't need him as a friend! She needed something more. The thought made her ill. Because
something more
wasn't possible for someone like her.

S
adie stepped into a different Quilting Central than she'd left an hour ago. The muted lighting, the soft guitar music, did nothing to dissuade her from not wanting to be there. In fact, she didn't want to be in Scotland at all. She wanted to be anywhere except in the same village as Ross Armstrong. She'd had enough of his pity, everyone's pity.

As she followed Kirsty to the far corner of the room, where the tables had been cleared and mats were laid out and battery-run candles were glowing, an anger, not remotely associated with yoga, grew inside Sadie.

“The others will be here shortly.” Kirsty sat on the floor and slipped off her shoes and socks. She stopped and studied her. “Are you all right?”

Sadie copied Kirsty and slipped off her shoes and socks, too. “Oh, I'm grand.”

Kirsty seemed to weigh her words but went with I'm-going-to-pretend-you're-okay. “One of the first things I do at the beginning of a session is to ask everyone if they have any injuries or medical conditions that I should know about before we start.”

Sadie tensed even more. Was she was expected to talk about her CKD?

“Have you been hiking up the bluff? Or does your back hurt from quilting?”

“No.” Sadie couldn't tell Kirsty about her aching heart.

The door opened and more women arrived—Cait, Emma, Claire, Moira, Amy, and Kit.

“That looks to be everyone,” Kirsty said. “Usually the older crowd doesn't join us for the evening classes.”

But the door opened again and a very pregnant Pippa came in. “Can I join ye?”

They all looked around nervously. “Ye can stay,” Amy said, “but only if ye promise not to have the twins during downward facing dog!”

Pippa laughed. “I promise.” She sat in a chair, but Kirsty jumped in and helped her slip off her shoes.

“She'll be fine,” Kirsty said. “We're just going to do restorative yoga. I'll get you set up with a bolster.”

“That would be great. I've been feeling so uncomfortable lately.”

Amy set a bolster on Pippa's mat, the one next to Sadie's. “Ye should rest as much as ye can. After the babes arrive . . . well, there won't be much time for it then.”

Both Emma and Claire agreed. Cait seemed quiet on the subject. Sadie had overheard Deydie speaking of the miscarriages that her granddaughter Cait had endured. All this baby talk must be hard on her.

“So what is restorative yoga?” Sadie asked, hoping to change the subject for Cait's sake.

Kirsty explained, and the others joined in to tell her
what they liked about it. Kirsty queried them if they had any injuries, too, then they got busy setting up their mats.

Cait said to Sadie, “I have to thank you for what ye've been doing for Mattie. He's really enjoying reading with you. A couple of times, he's even spoken about it.”

Emma looked over and beamed. “I knew you would be great with him.”

“And Dand,” Kit chimed in. “Maggie hasn't stopped praising you. You've really made a difference here, between working with the children and the elderly.”

“Yesterday,” Pippa said, “when I stopped to see Mr. Menzies, he said he didn't know what he was going to do once ye left.”

Sadie was blushing, not used to attention, let alone praise. And the thought of leaving made her sad.

Moira touched her arm. “I know ye're busy, but Glenna wanted to be put on yere list, too. I read to her, but the way Dand talks about ye, she thinks she's missing the fun. Do ye mind?”

“I'd love to read to Glenna.” Sadie would definitely have to get that schedule together. And make sure to drop by Mr. Menzies's more often. Maybe she should get audiobooks for the library, too. Yes, the quilters would like that—something to listen to while they worked.

“What about a story time at the school?” Kirsty interjected. “That way you could take care of a lot of children at once. It would be good for them to be reading over the summer months.”

Emma leaned over. “And you could have the children read out loud. Mattie might be ready for a bigger audience. The other children are supportive and I think
Mattie would feel safe. I could be there to make sure it went smoothly.”

Cait looked over at Emma gratefully.

Even though Sadie was supposed to go home soon, she got a picture in her head of dressing up as a princess and reading to the children. Or as a wizard. Or as a zombie . . . but only to the older kids who liked that sort of thing. For such a small town, things to do seemed endless.

“Okay, everyone,” Kirsty said in a soothing tone, taking charge, “let's all lie back on our bolsters and open up our chests. Pippa, let me help ye get to the floor.”

Sadie and Cait both jumped up, too.

Pippa laughed. “Ye might be able to get me to the floor, but I'm afraid ye'll have to get the crane from the factory to get me back up. Or find Max. He's the one who got me in this predicament.”

“Aye,” Claire said. “And ye had nothing to do with it.”

They all laughed.

Kirsty had them start with some deep breathing. Sadie was self-conscious at first, but gradually she let herself relax. She couldn't imagine a nicer group of women to hang out with. And the most surprising thing happened—when she put her shoes on and headed back to the quilting dorm, she felt restored.

*   *   *

Ross snuck out as soon as Sadie was gone. He wanted to be a good chap and put in an appearance at Andrew's stag party at the pub. He rushed to The Fisherman and joined the crowd.

Brodie stood at the doorway and lifted an eyebrow. “Ye get hung up?”

“Something like that.”

The door opened behind them, and Gabe walked in. Behind him was another. Gabe clasped Ross on the shoulder. “Ross, Brodie, this is my father, Casper MacGregor. Be on yere best behavior tonight. He's the minister marrying Andrew and Moira tomorrow.”

Ross and Brodie greeted him and Gabe went on to introduce his da to the rest of the men.

From halfway across the room, Coll nodded to Ross and hollered above the crowd, “What can I get ye?”

“Cola.”

Brodie raised his eyebrow again. “Are ye driving somewhere later?”

“Nay.” But Ross needed a clear head as he was trying to figure out what was going on with himself.

Why in the world had he been honest with Sadie and told her that he saw the
real
her? He shouldn't have said anything at all. He'd gone all sappy on the lass. Which was ridiculous. And although he'd never visualized a future with someone who had a serious illness like Sadie, he had moments of picturing what that might look like now. Caring for her. The whole deal. But the truth of it was he didn't see her as sick or fragile. He just saw her as Sadie.

His friend.

But then he'd made his friend his lover.

Max whistled to get the floor, but Ross didn't catch all of the toast. He had his own worries.

Surprisingly, even though he and Sadie had some issues after they'd had sex, they seemed to be okay now. And that's what he liked best about her. She wasn't a drama queen. She was steady. And she seemed to have
forgiven him for—he hated himself for it—
nailing her
. He was going to make it up to her. He would. The next time they made love, he would be as attentive as a painter crafting a masterpiece. That is, if she'd let him.

Several others made toasts before Ross realized his drink was gone. He glanced at the door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Brodie asked. “Ye're as fidgety as Andrew was earlier. That is, until his brother called and said he wouldn't make it to the wedding.”

Ross shoved his empty glass at Brodie. “I have some- place to be. I'll see you later.”

When Ross arrived at the quilting dorm, he was relieved to find the place was empty; Sadie was still gone. He stretched out on the sofa and waited for the lass to come home. Maybe he'd get the opportunity to make up for what he'd done last night.

The door to Thistle Glen Lodge opened and closed. He shut his eyes, pretending to be her manly Sleeping Beauty.
Maybe she'll kiss me awake.

“What in damnation are ye doing?” came a grumpy old voice.

His eyes popped open. “What the . . .” The fairy tale had turned into a nightmare in the form of Deydie's glare.

She kicked the leg of the sofa. “Get yere arse up from there. When I told ye to keep Sadie in town, I didn't mean for ye to shack up with her.”

“How did—”

“Maggie. When she stopped by for the vases for the centerpieces, she said that ye'd announced ye were going to be gone for a few days. I figured it out. What the hell
were ye thinking? How did ye come up with such an asinine scheme?”

Ross wanted to send her to Gabe for the answer. He opened his mouth, but Deydie apparently wasn't finished.

“Ye better not have set yereself up in the lass's bedroom.” She looked as if she was going to head down the hall for proof of a love nest. “Didn't I tell ye I wouldn't have it?”

“As I recall, you said ye'd
prefer
I didn't.”

Deydie's color turned angry. “I—”

Ross held a hand up, cutting
her
off this time. “Sadie told me to sleep upstairs.” He didn't mention he was hoping she'd reconsider.

“Git that look off yere face.” Deydie slammed her hands on her hips. “And git yere things and move back home.”

“Nay. Ye have to admit that if it wasn't for me, Sadie would've been long gone from Gandiegow.”

Deydie, like a stubborn ole mule, didn't budge from her position.

“Ye need me here at the quilting dorm. I'll be yere insurance policy. Let me be Sadie's friend while Kirsty finishes reeling in Oliver.”

Deydie's arms dropped and she looked as if she might be considering his proposition. “Aye. But only because having Oliver here is that important to Gandiegow.”

The front door opened.

“I'll head out the back,” Deydie said, and was gone.

As Sadie walked into the room, his chest warmed. “Hallo, lass.” The wake of Deydie was history, replaced by what Ross had planned for this evening—plans of
finessing Sadie back into bed. He'd even let her read one of her romances to him if it was what she wanted.

What she wanted, he wanted.

“How was yoga?”

“Lovely.” She looked all relaxed and dreamy-eyed.

“Are ye ready for bed?” He tried not to sound anxious,
but gawd
, he couldn't wait to hold her again.

She smiled at him. “Yes. I believe I am.”

This is good. This is verra good.

He stood, rounded the couch, waiting as she walked toward him. He felt a little choked up at how much she affected him, and was so glad that he was here.

Feeling confident, he reached out to Sadie, anxious to have her lips on his. “If ye're off to bed, then I hope ye don't mind if I join ye.” He couldn't wait to worship every inch of her, from her perfect breasts to that place behind her ear that he was sure would drive her wild.

She smiled at him sweetly and patted his chest. “Ross, you forget that I'm only your friend.” Then her eyes met his. Her gaze now held steel and determination. “Do I look like I've had a lobotomy?” She patted once more, then walked past him, down the hall, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

*   *   *

Grace arrived late that night; the friend who would be caring for Glynnis while Grace was gone had been delayed. But in the end, she left her sister in good hands, the two friends excited for time together to catch up.

There were advantages to coming into town this late. Grace could take it all in and get some of her feelings under control as she headed to the cottage. The cottage she'd entered as a young bride and raised her three boys
in. The cottage where she'd dressed in black and then bade farewell to the love of her life. She missed Alistair terribly, every day. Glynnis needing her, moving to Glasgow, had saved Grace. Taking care of her sister gave her life meaning and purpose. But sometimes it was lonely, too.

As the cottage came into view, she felt unsettled. She hadn't lived here in two years and she'd accepted that Maggie was the woman of the house, while she was just visiting. But that was the thing—she was just visiting everywhere, with no real home of her own anymore.

She let herself into the cottage and went to Ross's room, the bedroom closest to the front door. Maggie had told her that Ross would either take the couch or use a bedroll in the nursery. He was a good lad.

She stowed her things and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. She was quiet so as not to wake Ross if he was on the couch. She peeked into the living area, but he wasn't there. After turning on the light over the stove, she walked to what was once Ramsay's room, but was now the nursery, and didn't find Ross or her granddaughter either. She wasn't worried about Irene—John had complained that the babe was still in their room. For a moment, she wondered where Ross was.

She smiled as a thought hit her—the lad must be out with Sadie.

*   *   *

Sadie needed to go back to yoga. Ross had ruined her buzz. She shouldn't have slammed the door, but it had felt good, and it nicely conveyed what she thought of his proposition.

She could share the same address with him and not succumb to his charms. She could sleep alone in this
room. She could do this. She was strong. Strong enough to withstand a diagnosis that would've brought most people to a screeching halt. Strong enough to withstand her grandmother's death. Strong enough not to get her heart more broken than she already had.

She yanked open the dresser drawer and pulled out her nightgown, remembering how he'd slipped it from her shoulders. She ached to go find him and tell him that she didn't mean it; she'd take him no matter the circumstances. But after Scotland was over, she'd have to live with herself. There was a line, and she had to remember to keep it firmly fixed in her mind. It had been one thing to willingly offer herself up to him as his rebound fling. It was quite another for him to bury himself deep inside of her out of pity.