Page 19 of Wild Scottish Rose

Shona

My walking stick?

My eyes hovered between my favorite trowel and beautifully crafted walking stick that had been my grandmother’s. And, yes, I do have a favorite gardening trowel if you must know. It has a pink handle and flowers etched into the metal, and I love it because it’s frivolous and makes me smile. I picked both up, weighing them in each hand, and tried to see if I could feel which would be a better choice for this supposed weapon that I needed.

I was meant to be on my way to the castle to start my ritual, yet was hung up on deciding on my weapon. In the end, I went with the walking stick, which had intricate vines carved around the handle and down the length of the staff. I was just opening the door to leave the greenhouse when a voice startled me.

“It’s about time you got your head out of your arse.”

“Pardon me?” I demanded, almost dropping my stick. Caught halfway out of the door, I peered into the palette of greens by the wall. Leaves shifted, and red flashed between the greenery before the gnome poked his head out.

“You heard me, lass.”

“You’re quite rude, sir,” I scolded the wee gnome, narrowing my eyes when he glared up at me. Was I really lecturing a gnome?

“Who are you talking to?”

When I say I shrieked, I mean that my body must have levitated off the ground, and I threw my hand out, catching Owen in the legs with my walking stick, while almost punching the gnome at the same time.

“For flower’s sake,” the gnome hissed.

For flower’s sake? He must have replaced one F word with another. The ridiculousness of the situation caused a giggle to lodge in my throat, and I choked, gurgling, and making an odd sound as Owen looked at me like I was unhinged.

“Oh, so arse is just fine, but you can’t say the F word?” I hissed back and the gnome froze as Owen loomed close.

“Cute little guy,” Owen said, peering over my shoulder at the gnome who had returned to what must be his resting statue mode. The gnome’s eyes shifted slightly, glaring at Owen’s words.

“Yes, he’s justdarling,isn’t he?” I gushed, suspecting it would annoy the crabbit beastie, and stepped outside, pulling the door to the greenhouse tight behind me. What I needed to do was get rid of Owen before I investigated the appearance of this creature further.

“I’m sorry that I lashed you with my walking stickthere,” I said, trying to pretend like everything was normal and he hadn’t caught me carrying on a conversation with a walking, talking garden ornament. Or that I was about to go partake in an ancient ritual that would apparently level up my magick like I was eating special mushrooms in a video game. “I’m not used to having people on the property yet. Is everything all right then? Cottage cozy enough for you?”

“Yes, it’s great. I just got back from the hospital to see my friend. He got hurt here recently. You may have heard?” Owen’s eyes searched mine, and I busied myself with turning to lock the greenhouse.

“I had heard that a lad ran into some trouble on the loch the other day. Was that your friend then?” I could just make out the gnome through the frosty glass of the door, and when he raised his finger at me in a well-known salute, my mouth dropped open. Why that tetchy little–

“It was. He almost died. He seems to think that it wasn’t an accident.”

At that, I swallowed, glad I was turned away, and then faced Owen with a concerned look on my face. Damn it, but he wassohandsome. The air around him seemed to crackle with energy, and I wanted to move closer, to feel what it would be like to be pulled into his orbit.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Owen. I haven’t heard the details of the situation, but I do have to run. I’m away up to the castle just now, and then to get the messages. Are you needing anything from the shops?”

“Get the messages?” Owen raised an eyebrow at me, sidetracked from his line of questioning. At his question, I laughed.

“A Scottish phrase. It just means popping ’round the shops for a few things. Maybe stopping at the post office. That sort of thing.”

“Interesting. Maybe a recommendation for a place for dinner? If you’re free, I’d love to treat you. I have so many questions about this town.” There was a gleam in Owen’s eye that was putting me on my back foot as Agnes’s warning loomed in my mind.

“Ah, I can’t tonight. I’m not sure how long I’ll be out.” Which was true, since it was hard to say how long ancient magickal rituals took. Maybe, after all these years, efficiency would prevail, and I’d be on my way within an hour. It was hard to say. “But I recommend the Tipsy Thistle for good comfort pub food, and Grasshopper at MacAlpine Castle for fine dining.”

“Is that where you’re going then? Grasshopper? Since you’ll be up at the castle?”

“Ah, no.” I glanced down at my faded jeans and worn sweater. “Just to have a wee chat with a friend who lives there.”

“Lives in a castle? Imagine that.” Owen crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. I was certain that he would stay here all night, asking questions, until he got the answers that he needed, and I didn’t like how this made me feel. I wasn’t one for deception, and I suspected that his questions had to do with what had happened to his friend. To protect Loren Brae, I’d be forced to lie, something that I hated doing. Yet, Agnes’s instructions had been clear.

Owen was an outsider. And that was where he needed to stay.

“That’s right. Someone has to see to keeping thegrounds neat and running the tours. Is there anything else you need, Owen? I’d like to crack on before the day gets away from me.”

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