Read Online His Lass Wears Tartan by Kathleen Shaputis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathleen Shaputis
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touch of Jonathan’s hand paired with ridiculous flattery easily erased everything? Water—she needed to wash her hands in the sink before Bruce arrived.
Yet, when he came through the door, her nerves exploded in chaotic emotions and she couldn’t stop drying her hands, with images of the Eiffel Tower at night, all lit up, flashing through her mind. What must he think of her? With a quick turn now, she dashed back to the kitchen, but it was too late. Bruce had gone, and Putney had finished putting away the last of the food.
A tear welled up in her eyes as she stared at the empty spot. She roughly brushed it away. What female foolishness. She’d never thought of herself as weak, more the opposite. She’d taken care of herself as an orphan and beyond. These men had mashed her mind and body into a bowl of gruel.
Putney poured herself a cup of tea and slowly stirred a lump of sugar, the spoon clinking against the china. Rogue closed her eyes; surely, she was about to get a lengthy lecture from the cook. With a sigh, she crossed the kitchen and leaned on the counter next to her.
“Not what I expected to see after watching the two of you last night in my kitchen. And our conversation with your aunt led me to believe Bruce was the better of the two in your heart.” Putney took a long sip.
Rogue opened her mouth and then closed it again. Confusion and emotions played tag through her mind. Finally, she said, “I do like him, ya ken.”
“That’s a start.” Putney wiped the outside edge of her teacup with a corner of her apron.
“So does Miss Diva, and she’s quite picky where men are concerned. That in itself is an incredible recommendation of Bruce’s character, aye?”
“That is true.”
The silence lengthened between them. “I had every intention of readying myself to see him this morn.” Rogue looked down at her dress and swallowed hard. “But I ran into Jonathan heading toward the learning room and ... and I don’t know what came over me. He wraps me tight in his attention until I canna breathe. He said he wanted to take me to Paris and Rio de Janeiro, with adventures in New York and Hollywood. Isn’t that crazy? Then he bowed and kissed my hand for ages before excusing himself away.”
Putney set the cup down hard on the counter, surprising them both. They locked their gazes together and both burst out laughing, breaking the tension. Putney pulled her into a warm hug.
“Now look at my wee lassie, being courted by two smartly grown men. Though thoughts of international travels have a glamourous and exciting zeal, ya ken where my heart lies.”
Rogue kissed her on the cheek. “Between this duo, I do indeed.” Pulling open the wooden door, she headed for the outdoors to check on her horse, Dougal. This was one male she could rely on not to confuse her emotions. Why couldn’t men be as staunch and unwavering as a horse?
• • •
At lunchtime, Rogue watched as the class of writers cleared the room, wandering off with sluggish steps and glazed eyes, their latest assignments in hand. Not a word broke between any of them. How could they be enjoying themselves when they looked drained and weary? The concept of studying writing in a castle sounded magical, and Rogue hoped other best-selling authors might sign on for such experiences, yet the zombies leaving the room just now did not make for a public relations spot on the website.
Jonathan had made it clear that the staff should leave only an undersized fare of finger sandwiches and fruit on a side table, as the writers would be responsible for quite a bit of work before class started up again in the afternoon. His remark still stuck in her mind: “The writers should take their bit of nourishment, huddle into their rooms or some corner space, and concentrate on their writing exercise of the day. Remember, they will have no time for high tea.”
So Rogue stood near the food table, making sure everyone was taken care of with bottles of water or
Yet, when he came through the door, her nerves exploded in chaotic emotions and she couldn’t stop drying her hands, with images of the Eiffel Tower at night, all lit up, flashing through her mind. What must he think of her? With a quick turn now, she dashed back to the kitchen, but it was too late. Bruce had gone, and Putney had finished putting away the last of the food.
A tear welled up in her eyes as she stared at the empty spot. She roughly brushed it away. What female foolishness. She’d never thought of herself as weak, more the opposite. She’d taken care of herself as an orphan and beyond. These men had mashed her mind and body into a bowl of gruel.
Putney poured herself a cup of tea and slowly stirred a lump of sugar, the spoon clinking against the china. Rogue closed her eyes; surely, she was about to get a lengthy lecture from the cook. With a sigh, she crossed the kitchen and leaned on the counter next to her.
“Not what I expected to see after watching the two of you last night in my kitchen. And our conversation with your aunt led me to believe Bruce was the better of the two in your heart.” Putney took a long sip.
Rogue opened her mouth and then closed it again. Confusion and emotions played tag through her mind. Finally, she said, “I do like him, ya ken.”
“That’s a start.” Putney wiped the outside edge of her teacup with a corner of her apron.
“So does Miss Diva, and she’s quite picky where men are concerned. That in itself is an incredible recommendation of Bruce’s character, aye?”
“That is true.”
The silence lengthened between them. “I had every intention of readying myself to see him this morn.” Rogue looked down at her dress and swallowed hard. “But I ran into Jonathan heading toward the learning room and ... and I don’t know what came over me. He wraps me tight in his attention until I canna breathe. He said he wanted to take me to Paris and Rio de Janeiro, with adventures in New York and Hollywood. Isn’t that crazy? Then he bowed and kissed my hand for ages before excusing himself away.”
Putney set the cup down hard on the counter, surprising them both. They locked their gazes together and both burst out laughing, breaking the tension. Putney pulled her into a warm hug.
“Now look at my wee lassie, being courted by two smartly grown men. Though thoughts of international travels have a glamourous and exciting zeal, ya ken where my heart lies.”
Rogue kissed her on the cheek. “Between this duo, I do indeed.” Pulling open the wooden door, she headed for the outdoors to check on her horse, Dougal. This was one male she could rely on not to confuse her emotions. Why couldn’t men be as staunch and unwavering as a horse?
• • •
At lunchtime, Rogue watched as the class of writers cleared the room, wandering off with sluggish steps and glazed eyes, their latest assignments in hand. Not a word broke between any of them. How could they be enjoying themselves when they looked drained and weary? The concept of studying writing in a castle sounded magical, and Rogue hoped other best-selling authors might sign on for such experiences, yet the zombies leaving the room just now did not make for a public relations spot on the website.
Jonathan had made it clear that the staff should leave only an undersized fare of finger sandwiches and fruit on a side table, as the writers would be responsible for quite a bit of work before class started up again in the afternoon. His remark still stuck in her mind: “The writers should take their bit of nourishment, huddle into their rooms or some corner space, and concentrate on their writing exercise of the day. Remember, they will have no time for high tea.”
So Rogue stood near the food table, making sure everyone was taken care of with bottles of water or
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