Page 39 of Mistletoe Season
His shoulder slumped beneath the weight of his ongoing stupidity. “Then I’ll see her again so I can apologize properly.”
“Arran.” Ellie leaned forward and squeezed his arm. “You’re going to be alright. I know you are.” She drew in a long breath. “Apart from our parents, I know you better than anyone else in our family. You love hard, so you hurt deeply, but you’re choosing to change. Father and Mother have seen it. So have others. Getting away from the past and unhealthy distractions as you try to move forward is a good idea. Working with your hands and your heart is too, whilst you attempt to remember who youreallyare.”
The scene in the bar rushed back to mind. If he wasn’t Arran St. Clare, Prince of Bredon and the Western Isles, who was he?
And was it possible to find out in this obscure little town in the Blue Ridge Mountains?
The idea worked through him like a splinter, almost emerging from the skin but not quite. The ache in his chest grew. If he looked too closely at his own heart, he wasn’t too certain he’d like what was left without a crown.
Three
“What exactly is ‘roofing a house’?” Arran asked from the passenger seat of Ellie’s car.
Arran’s head still ached, but his heart ached worse. The idea of failing so expertly within the first hour of his planned reformation, wounding an innocent woman, and sorting out how to crawl out of this monstrous hole of his own creation loomed so large, it felt impossible.
What he needed was a little time. Reflection. A few days to work out a plan.
Not... whatever it was that sent him careening up a mountainside for some “project” of his brother-in-law’s.
“Am I putting an actual roof on a house?” he asked.
“The shingles.” Ellie pinched her lips tight in a failed effort to tame her smile. “The top of the roof has to be replaced.”
He accepted this information with a nod. “Manual labor, I can do.”
“Yourabilityhas never been in question. You’ve proven it years before this situation with Angelica.” The tenderness in Ellie’s voice drew his attention back to her. “The goal is to get your head and your heart in the right place, to match whatever future you choose. Royal or not.”
Her declaration, spoken in a gentle way, hollowed out his chest even more, nailing the earlier epiphany into painful clarity. He’d never considered any other life.
“Here we are.”
The car rolled to a stop in front of a large house made of white stone and windows, all poised in a clearing overlooking the treetops. Layers of mountains spread on all sides, revealing threaded colors of red, orange, and yellow overtaking the evergreen. The world in full autumn glory.
It was magnificent.
And reminded him of home.
“At least you’ll have a nice view while you work.” Ellie tossed him a grin as she exited the car, and Arran followed. “Maybe it will inspire a proper perspective too.”
“You used to be funnier.” His brows rose in challenge, but she laughed.
“And you used to be more laid-back.”
Arran opened his mouth to respond, but a noise from above caught his attention.
“Just in time.”
Arran followed Ellie’s gaze and cupped his hand over his eyes to shade the sun. Luke Edgewood, green ball cap on his head, stared down at them from the housetop.
“We just finished removing the shingles and are ready to start therealwork.” The man’s grin broadened. “But don’t worry. I always start offrealeasy for the pampered folks.”
The tip of Luke’s grin disappeared into his close-shaved brown beard at the challenge, which bristled every competitive bone in Arran’s body.
So this is how his new brother-in-law wanted to work.
Arran pulled his borrowed cap out of his back pocket and crammed it down on his head. “Point me in the proper direction, and I’ll happily show you what I can do.”
“I like the sound of that.” Luke gestured with his chin. “The ladder’s on the side of the house.”
