Page 54 of Some Like It Scot
A screech broke the spell between her lips and my brain and brought my feet to a stop as a massive parrot flew into the room. Och!Theparrot!
Someone gasped. Another person cried out, but the blasted creature seemed to know exactly what it was doing. With precision, it flew directly to Katie and plucked the silver headband from her hair, leaving those fiery curls in a tangle over her head.
Katie’s jaw dropped, and she looked from me to follow the trail of the bird. It took a flight about the room in time with the music, as if showing off its prize, and then, with another screech to mock us all, it flew back out the way it had come.
Ana screamed, a few seconds too late. The younger man with the brown-haired woman dropped down into the only chair in the room, as if the incident exhausted him.
“Robert!” Lennox swatted at her husband’s hand and gestured toward the doorway. “Fetch that hairband. Merlin has stolen it.”
Dazed Robert Lennox, with an equally befuddled Craig at his side, blinked a few times in response.
“I should shoot the bird myself,” Lennox muttered under her breath in a very un-Lennox sort of way and marched past them. “Do something with your bird, Robert.”
The room fell silent, and then a strange sound erupted from the woman at my side.
A cry? I braced myself as I turned. Katie’s hair stuck out in various directions from the parrot’s removal of the hairband, and her eyes were still wide, but then she broke out into... laughter.
“She’s gone mad,” Ana whispered, shaking her head in consolation. “Of course, if Merlin had stolen my tiara, I wouldn’t have taken it well either.”
Katie’s laughter grew and she wiped at her eyes. “The parrot in the drawing room with a hairband.”
“What?”
“Come on.” She gave a tug to my arm. “You’re the butler. Surely you can help rescue my hairband.”
With that, she dashed off out of the room.
And being the numpty I was, I followed.
Chapter 11
Katie
I woke up early on Saturday morning because I forgot to pull the curtains closed the night before. And with a sunrise at some ungodly time, like five o’clock, the happy golden beams created a brilliant wake-up call.
I shrugged off the initial frustration and shot a smile heavenward. There were worse ways to wake up in the morning. Howler monkeys have their name for a reason.
And today was a free day for me, so why not take advantage of exploring, catching up on writing, and just enjoying the world of Mull. So I stayed in my comfy “modern” pj’s and edited another article Dave sent me, wrote up my notes from yesterday, sent the latest article (“Thievery Most Fowl”) to my editor, and wrote a few thousand words in my middle reader story, all before even changing out of my pajamas.
I wasn’t 100 percent sure where I wanted to visit on Mull, but I planned to do some research after breakfast and pick my spot. Pulling on some jeans and a T-shirt, I plopped down on my bed just as a knock came to my door.
At my welcome, Emily entered with a tray of Scottish goodness. Seriously, I don’t know if the Scots are in competition with every other country to make their breakfasts bigger and better, but from my first night staying in Inverness to today, the Scottish breakfast proved massive... and eclectic.
Of course there were typical breakfast items like sausage, bacon(called rashers), and eggs. Even a bowl of fruit. But then there were the additions of potato scones, called tattie scones (which makes me smile to think about), baked beans on toast (which doesn’t make me smile to think about), fried tomato with cheese, oatcakes, and the traditional blood sausage and haggis.
I tried both of the latter.
I only liked one, and I chose not to learn the contents of either.
“And I collected these notes for you that were under the door when I entered, Miss Campbell.” Emily handed me two folded pieces of paper—one card stock and the other looked as if it had been torn from a notebook.
Once Emily left and I sat down in front of my plate, I opened up the first, thicker paper. In almost calligraphic beauty, a schedule for the upcoming week marked the page.
Monday—a cooking class and lawn tennis
Tuesday—guest’s choice: day visit to Dervaig or a free day
Wednesday—the Language of Fans, dancing lesson 2, dining outdoors early
