Page 71 of Some Like It Scot
The concern on her face only pummeled my shame anew. “He’ll be right as rain once he rests awhile.”
“Good.” She nodded her head of damp, wavy hair and stepped toward the door. “I don’t want to cause more trouble, and the rain is lightening up a little.” She thumbed toward the door. I glanced out the window, the downpour blurring the view entirely.
“So if you’ll just point me in the direction of Craighill, I can—”
“I want to apologize.”
She paused in her steps toward the door and looked back over at me, brows rising.
“I... I’m truly sorry for being an utter roaster when you arrived.”
She glanced at me and then quickly looked back to the door, as if weighing her options. And no wonder.
I stepped closer. “It wasnae you; it was me. I know I cannae keep Lachlan safe all the time, but my sister entrusted him to my care before she died, so I... well, I can sometimes overreact.”
Her dark round gaze flickered to mine, the residual timidity a devastating punishment for me. I’d never want to take the fire from her. To wound her. “I wouldn’t hurt him, Graeme. I’d never want to hurt him.”
“I know.” I held her gaze, hoping she believed me, saw the desire to make things right. “Forgive me.”
She stared at me, eyes near full from a sudden swarm of tears. I’d seen Allison cry before, usually when we argued, but something haunting and spellbinding entranced me in Katie’s expression. Honest. Searching.
What did she see?
I hoped much more than the eejit I knew I was.
Her gaze probed mine for long seconds as rain pelted the windows. Then suspicion and hurt melted into something unexpected. A... tenderness?
No fighting back. No prolonging how she’d been wronged.
The gentle acceptance did something to my brain. Dazed me, maybe? Sent me off-kilter?
And ignited an indefinable connection to her. A deeper need to know her.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” she whispered. “She must have thought you were pretty wonderful to choose you for Lachlan.”
Her words pierced, almost stinging in a bittersweet way. “Or the least offensive of her options.”
“I doubt that’s true.” She smiled and looked away. “I mean, I’ve only met Lachlan and your mom, but I’d say your sister must have thought pretty highly to choose you as a guardian over Mirren.”
“I volunteered.” My throat tightened around the words. “He was such a link to her, and I love them both.”
Her lips pinched as she audibly swallowed, and I knew she understood grief, whether she voiced it or not.
Quiet invaded the moment, and I gestured toward the room to redirect how exposed my heart felt. “This was her house. I moved in to help care for her during her illness. There was no reason to leave once she passed. Besides, it’s been a good place to heal.” I cleared my throat as familiar emotions rose to snatch at my voice. “And who wouldn’t want that view?”
I gestured toward the window, but the blinding rain dimmed my attempts at levity.
She smiled a little. Well, maybe the levity wasn’t lost after all.
“Did she make all of these sculptures too?” Her gaze roamed the room, noting each carving’s placement.
“She certainly encouraged wildlife sculpting.” I pushed my hands into my jean pockets, bracing for her response to my answer. “But the sculptures are mine.”
Her attention flashed to me, and then she took another look around the room. “Yours.” She breathed in, almost in wonder, and then looked back at me. “Youmade these beautiful creations?”
One of my brows tipped. “It’s a wonder, isn’t it, since I’ve been so brutish to ye.”
“Maybe I wasn’t expecting such beauty beneath all that beasty-ness.” Her grin tipped wider.
