Page 74 of Some Like It Scot
Or maybe part of it was my dazzled brain.
I’d barely slept last night after Graeme drove me back to Craighill. Mrs. Lennox even enquired after my health at dinner because I remained so quiet. Not to worry, though, because she became distracted by Caesar skittering across the floor during the third course and nearly derailing the entire fish dish as a faithful footman danced around the furry creature to keep from spilling everything on his tray.
I could at least write that the Edwardian Experience oozed with the humorously unexpected. When Mr. Lennox mentioned how he was glad it was Caesar who had gotten loose instead of hispet python, Monty (very clever, Mr. Lennox), Mark turned twenty shades of pale.
But as I walked through the lovely morning, I just couldn’t get the previous afternoon and Graeme MacKerrow out of my head. Sure, he had great shoulders. And I often got distracted by his eyes. And the way he rolled thosersounds reverberated in my chest like a warm bass drum. But there was so much more to him—grief and gentleness and creativity and humor. Depth and humility. Ach! Tenderness.
My palm flew to my chest as I took the path into Glenkirk.
And he’d invited me to hischurch?
How is a girl supposed to go back to a normal way of thinking after such a combo? But that was completely ridiculous because I was leaving and he was clearly linked to Mull. He even owned an ancestral manor house! If that didn’t shouttied to Scotland, what did?
But... I just couldn’t shake this connection with him. I liked him. Not just the shoulders and the accent, but...him.
It’s like God put every possible combination of my daydreams together, including cute kid and dog (which I hadn’t even considered before) and formed a perfect specimen of all my star-bright wishes from the last ten years.
Similar to one of those rare and childhood-defining moments when you actually won the coveted stuffed animal from one of those claw machines in the store after spending much more money than the toy even cost. Except this was a million times better.
I looked up to the sky as I stepped onto the main street.Not fair, God. You can’t just dangle him in front of me, knowing I’m going to leave soon.
Oh, but what a view!
My face heated at the very idea. And my eyes got a little watery too, so I shook away the thought—mostly—as I entered Mirren’s bookshop. And immediately realized it was Wednesday... at ten.
A rush of welcome exploded from the group of ladies in the corner, all waving me forward with their free hand as the other hand held some knitting object or other.
“We knew you’d come back to join us, Katie Campbell.” This from Maggie, who tucked her chin with her nod. “I saw it in your eyes.”
Mirren rolled her gaze heavenward and approached me as I came forward. “It’s a braw day for a wee dauner.” My brain interpreted the sentence in slow motion.A good day for a small walk?“I’m happy you dried out well after the dreich day yesterday.” And then Mirren turned to the group of ladies and thoroughly tossed me into the lions’ den of matchmaking. “Katie rescued dear Lachlan after a fall and walked with him in the rain all the way to Graeme’s cottage.”
“In the rain. Poor lass.” This from Lori, who offered the sweetest smile.
“Then they had a spot of tea.” Mirren’s knowing look brought out a collective “ah” from the other ladies, as if Graeme had asked me on a date or something.
Which he hadn’t.
He’d invited me to church. But that’s not a date. Is it? It felt wrong to think of an invitation to church as a date.
Mirren gestured for me to sit and promptly placed a cup of tea in my hand. “And Graeme said Katie was attending Livingston Chapel on Sunday next.”
The audible appreciation rose in volume. I could practically feel these knitters envisioning me in a wedding dress.
“How is Lachlan?” Maybe I could deter the flock of yentas from their current course.
“He’s healing nicely, thanks to your quick response,” Mirren answered.
“But let’s hear the other bits.” Bea scooted to the end of her chair like she was watching a suspense movie. “Mirren said that you and Graeme were cooried up at the table when she arrived.”
My brows shot high. We were having tea and the table was small, so we sat a little close, but no coorieing like the twinkle in her eyes suggested. “I don’t thinkcoorieis the right—”
“I fell in love with my husband the first time we had tea together.” Lori sighed as if recalling the moment in her mind.
“He’s a fine catch, Katie. Good heart.” Bea tapped her lips. “Strong jaw.”
He did have a nice jaw.
“And his heart needs tending with your sunshine, you ken,” Lori offered, her sweet smile full of daydreams. “The last lass broke it thoroughly.”
