The Laird and I: A Kilts and Quilts of Whussendale novella Read Online Free PDF Page B

affected in the least. In fact, he made matters worse by running his hand down her arm like they were lovers. “Darling, don’t say such hurtful things. I thought ye liked my naked arse.”
    The eavesdropping battle-ax was clearly scandalized, her mouth falling open before she hurried away into the chapel, looking ready to burst with gossip.
    “Just like that,” Sophie said. “Ye’d ruin yere reputation.”
    “Aye. Just like that. That old woman is Nansaidh. She’s been wanting dirt on me for years because I wouldn’t walk out with her granddaughter. I think we’re finally even. I’ve made her happier than the woolgatherer on sheep-shearing day.”
    Sure enough, Nansaidh was nattering away with woman after woman, pointing to the Laird in the Narthex, most certainly filling their ears full of how the lord of the manor had fallen.
    Sophie perched her hands on her hips. “What of my reputation?”
    Hugh winked at her. “What’s one more naked arse when ye’ve already seen so many?”
    “Ye’re insufferable.”
    He slipped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
    Sophie couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She thought she might melt away right there within the walls of the church.
    “Stay at my house and apprentice with Willoughby for the next week,” he said into her hair. “If ye can stand him that long.”
    “How am I going to stand you ?”
    He laughed and toyed with a lock of her mane. “That’s not what we’re debating here. What do ye say, lass?”
    She leaned back and stared up into his clear brown eyes. Eyes that had depth to them. Solid, like oak.
    The church door opened, and he dropped the bit of her hair that he held.
    The newcomer came straight to them. Sophie knew her—Amy’s aunt. Hugh’s aunt, too. Aunt Davinia .
    “It wouldn’t be right to stay with ye at yere house,” Sophie said before Aunt Davinia reached them. “Not all alone.”
    Aunt Davinia gave her a sly smile and then beamed at Hugh. The older woman was aging wonderfully. “What’s this all about?” she asked innocently. Aunt Davinia gave Sophie a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you again, dear. Now, tell Aunt Davinia why ye’re frowning.”
    Hugh shook his head at his aunt, so Sophie answered.
    “I’m here to apprentice with the kiltmaker. But I thought I would be at Kilheath Castle alone. I’m not the type of lass to plant myself in a man’s home, especially one I’m not married to.” Besides, as Sophie’s parents had made clear—she wasn’t marriage material anyway.
    Aunt Davinia patted Hugh’s arm. “Ye better hold on to this one, laddie. The rest of the world is shacking up at every opportunity.” She grabbed Sophie’s hand and placed it in Hugh’s. “But this lass, my dear boy, has moral fiber.”
    Sophie was still stuck on her words. Ye better hold on to this one. Then the heat of his hand and the satisfying, steady grip of it made her feel a little dizzy.
    Hugh dropped her hand and then wheeled on his relation. “Auntie, ye wouldn’t know anything about any emails now, would ye? Or perhaps that my clothes were cleared out of my own dresser drawers and shoved in the back of my closet?”
    Aunt Davinia waved him off with a laugh. “Ye’ve always been the one with the outrageous imagination, Hugh-boy. Now, Sophie, not to worry. I recently moved from Fairge to the dower house on the north end of Hugh’s property. I would be right happy to move into the big house for the next week to make things proper for you and my nephew.”
    Hugh studied the statue of Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. “Then I’ll have one of the rooms furnished up for ye.”
    Who was he speaking to? Aunt Davinia? Did he mean for Sophie to sleep in his sister’s room? Or with him?
    The organist began Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Sleeping arrangements would have to wait until after the service.
    Aunt Davinia gave Sophie’s hand one last squeeze before the older woman hurried into the