Her Highland Boss. Jessica Gilmore
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face fixed into a hostess-like beam of welcome.
‘Good morning, My Lord. Your table is the one by the window. It has a fine view but the morning papers are beside it if you prefer a broader outlook. Can I fetch you coffee while you decide what you’d like for your breakfast?’
So this was the way it would be. Guest and hostess. Even the dogs hadn’t stirred in welcome. Jeanie was home. They had no need of him.
Things were back to normal?
‘I just need toast.’
‘Surely not. We have eggs and bacon, sausages, porridge, black pudding, omelettes, pancakes, griddle cakes...whatever you want, My Lord, I can supply it. Within reason, of course.’ And she pressed a menu into his hands and retreated to the kitchen.
* * *
He ate porridge. No lumps. Excellent.
He felt...extraneous. Would he be served like this for the entire year? He’d go nuts.
But he sat and read his paper until all the guests had departed, off to tramp the moors or climb the crags or whatever it was that guests did during their stay. The American couple departed for good, for which he was thankful. The rest were staying at least another night. Jeanie was obviously supplying picnic baskets and seeing each guest off on their day’s adventures. He waited a few moments after the last farewell to give her time to catch her breath, and then headed to the kitchen to find her.
She was elbow deep in suds in front of the sink. Washed pots and pans were stacked up to one side. He took a dishcloth and started to dry.
‘There’s no need to be doing that.’ She must have heard him come in but she didn’t turn to look at him. ‘Put the dishcloth down. This is my territory.’
‘This year’s a mutual business deal. We work together.’
‘You’ve got your company’s work to be doing. There’s a spare room beyond the ones you’re using—your grandmother set it up as a small, private library for her own use. It has a fine view of the sea. We’ll need to see if the Internet reaches there—if not you can get a router in town. Hamish McEwan runs the electrical store in Duncairn. He’ll come out if I call him.’
Business. Her voice was clipped and efficient.
She still hadn’t looked at him.
‘We need to organise more than my office,’ he told her. ‘For a start, we need a cleaning lady.’
‘We do not!’ She sounded offended. ‘What could be wrong with my cleaning?’
‘How many days a year do you take guests?’
‘Three-sixty-five.’ She said it with pride and scrubbed the pan she was working on a bit harder.
‘And you do all the welcoming, the cooking, the cleaning, the bed-making...’
‘What else would I do?’
‘Enjoy yourself?’
‘I like cleaning.’
‘Jeanie?’
‘Yes.’
‘That pan is so shiny you can see your face in it. It’s time you stopped scrubbing.’
There were no more dishes. He could see her dilemma. She needed to stop scrubbing, but that would mean turning—to face him?
He lifted the pan from her hands, set it down and took her wet hands in his.
‘Jeanie...’
‘Don’t,’ she managed and tugged back but he didn’t let her go.
‘Jeanie, I’ve just been on the phone to Maggie.’
She stilled. ‘Why?’
‘To talk to her about you. You didn’t tell her you were coming back here. She thought you’d gone to the ferry.’
He didn’t tell her what a heart-sink moment that had been. She didn’t need emotion getting in the way of what he had to say now.
‘I thought I’d ring her this morning.’ She sounded defensive. ‘I thought... To be honest, when I left Maggie’s I wasn’t sure where I was going. I headed out near the ferry terminal and sat and looked over the cliffs for a while. I wasn’t sure if I should change my mind.’ She looked down at their linked hands. ‘I’m still not sure if I should.’
‘You promised me you’d come back.’
‘I stood in the kirk and wed you, too,’ she said sharply. ‘Somewhere along my life I’ve learned that promises are made to be broken.’
‘I won’t break mine.’
‘Till death do us part?’
‘I’ll rethink that in a year.’
‘You have to be kidding.’ She wrenched her hands back with a jerk. ‘It’s rethought now. Promises mean nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have beds to make, a castle to dust, dogs to walk, then the forecourt to mow. You go back to sorting your electrics.’
‘Jeanie, it’s the first day of our honeymoon.’
‘Do you not realise I’m over honeymoons?’ She grabbed the pan he’d just taken from her and slammed it down on the bottom shelf so hard it bounced. ‘What were you thinking? A jaunt to a six-star hotel with a casino on the side? Been there, done that.’
‘I thought I’d take you out to see the puffins.’
And that shocked her. She straightened. Stared at him. Stared at him some more. ‘Sorry?’
‘Have you seen the puffins this year?’
‘I... No.’
‘Neither have I. I haven’t seen the puffins since my grandfather died, and I miss them. According to Dougal, they’re still there, but only just. You know they take off midsummer? Their breeding season’s almost done so they’ll be leaving any minute. The sea’s so calm today it’s like a lake. You have all the ingredients for a picnic right here and Dougal says we can use his Mary-Jane.’
‘Dougal will lend you his boat?’
‘It’s not his fishing boat. It’s just a runabout.’
‘I know that, but still...he won’t even trust Maggie with his boat.’
‘Maybe I come with better insurance than Maggie.’
‘Do you even know how to handle a boat?’
‘I know how to handle a boat.’
She stared at him, incredulous, and then shook her head. ‘It’s a crazy idea. As I said, I have beds—’
‘Beds to make. And dusting and dog-walking and grass to mow.’ He raised his fingers and started ticking things off. ‘First, beds and general housework. Maggie’s mam is already on her way here, bringing a friend for company. They’ll clean and cook a storm. They’re bringing Maggie’s dog, too, who Maggie assures me keeps Abbot and Costello from fretting. They’ll walk all the dogs. Maggie’s uncle is bringing up the rear. He’ll do the mowing, help Mac check the cattle, do anything on the list you leave him. He’ll be here in an hour but we should be gone by then. Our boat’s waiting. Now, can I help you pack lunch?’
‘No! This is crazy.’
‘It’s the day after your wedding. It’s not crazy at all.’
‘The wedding was a formality. I told you, I don’t do honeymoons.’
‘Or six-star hotels, or casinos. I suspected not. I also thought that if I whisked you off the island you might never come back. But, Jeanie, you do need a holiday. Three years without a break. I don’t know what Eileen was thinking.’
‘She knew I wouldn’t