Chapter 43
Two weeks passed. The books arrived, and the business of school began. Mostly outdoors when weather permitted. Edwina could see the child needed to play, and her preference was always outdoors.
Edwina was gentle when it came to commanding her student to perform. When she did make demands, the child would stir up some sort of game, promising to tell her father. She knew about girls and their fathers. Nothing or no one should come between them. The relationship was too important. Little girls who did not have the love of their fathers did not fare as well. She’d studied that in psychology class.
Mr. Gillespie reminded her that the laird was due in on the morrow. He had weeded the gardens and told her earlier, “I’ve chosen the best vegetables for the stew the missus will simmer this eve.”
Edwina acknowledged his words with a smile and decided a good long walk and a few prayers were in order. After school it was the general practice to leave Paige to the care of Mrs. Gillespie for two hours. They were usually in the kitchen, Mrs. Gillespie giving the child unofficial baking lessons.
“Ah, I thought I’d find you two here.” She smiled. Paige had white dust all over her face, hands, and hair. “You will need a bath.” She laughed.
“No, I won’t,” Paige said.
Edwina noticed the child stood on a crate to reach the counter surface. She was rolling dough in her small hands.
“Ye’ll not be greetin’ yer father looking like that, lass.” Mrs. Gillespie was in no mood for sass, the way it sounded.
“I’m off for a walk.” Edwina waved.
Halfway down the long dirt lane, Edwina saw a car. Reardon was coming, no doubt with the Scot. They passed her without stopping. Was that common in Scotland?
She didn’t know whether to continue walking or to head back to the cottage. She chose the latter. If the Scot was about and she wasn’t, the little lass might start telling stories.
Edwina started back, conjuring up questions she’d kept in the back of her mind. Like, was she allowed to leave Beaufort Manor? When would the child go to regular school? She walked faster. It would not do well to be late this time.
Reardon was pulling out, and nary a look or wave was to be seen from him. Voices came from somewhere near the back of the cottage. She slipped up to her room and changed her clothes into something more suitable. Now she knew how Cecelia felt—different occasions required different outfits. She had not worried about such things in her simple life back in Michigan. Librarians were not supposed to be fashionable, just well read.
She couldn’t help humming as she redressed herself. Already Paige had pulled at her woman’s heartstrings, and temper or not, she could visualize improving the little girl’s childhood.
With such thoughts, she conjured up the questions, mentally aligned them in her memory, and sought the Scot.
He found her first. They crashed as he rounded the corner, his tall body slamming into hers. She found herself looking into those green eyes again. Stern today. Oh boy. Her thoughts flew away like so many chickens at the sight of a circling hawk.
“Ye are aboot the place then?” he barked, pulling at his shirt cuffs.
“Yes.” She waited for instructions.
“I am off on a ride. We will talk tomorrow. Seven-thirty tomorrow morn—sharp.”
Edwina nodded and was standing alone again. She shrugged and went to the kitchen.
“There ye are, lass. Has Laird Dunnegin seen yer face?”
“He’s seen it all right. We ran into each other in the hall.”
Mrs. Gillespie flinched. “Ah, did he hurt ya, lass? He is a tall one to be sure.”
“No.” Edwina laughed. “Now if he’d knocked me on my backside, I might have something to yelp about.”
The older woman actually chuckled. “The likes of ye aboot the house is goot.”
“Well, thank you. Now how can I help?”
“Shoo, shoo. You mustn’t be in here. He’d ’ave a fit. The teacher cookin’. Ah, best not take me job neither.” Her head gestured toward the door. “Be out with ye. I’ll send Mr. Gillespie when it’s time. But don’t get off too far, ya hear?”
“I hear. I’ll be in the library.”
Curled up in a chair, she gazed around the small library room. The Scot, or more likely Paige’s mother, had good taste. Even though not as lush as his castle, the cottage was warm and well decorated to be sure. A small fire burned in the grate. The house was silent. Certainly Paige was out riding with her father. She’d never seen the child ride. Perhaps she’d best check on her.
She stuck her head in the kitchen doorway. “Mrs. Gillespie, Paige is with her father?”
“Aye. The lass rides only when her father is aboot.”
Something else she needed to note. Now wishing she had taken her walk, she wandered about the house, the smells from the kitchen calling her. Her stomach roiled, whether from hunger or from the insufferable apprehensiveness she felt every time the Scot was about, she wasn’t sure. This was only his second visit, the first revealing a side of him she’d not seen, or perhaps not noticed before. But then she had only been at the castle for two days. How could she possibly know the man?
Why so worried? She asked herself, pacing back and forth.
Because you want to please him, came the reply from within.
What? Please him? I’m here to please his daughter, not him.
Pleasing his daughter will please him.
There, that was settled. She was here to teach his daughter and that would please him. What of it?
Her thoughts came to a halt when she heard voices. The front door banged open, and they bounded in. She could see from the library, but she stood still so she could observe. The Scot was laughing. So was Paige. She had not heard the child laugh like that before, and she’d been here more than two weeks.
A smile crept across her face. So, the father and daughter did have something special.
She heard Mrs. Gillespie announce dinner and rushed to the dining room. Mr. Gillespie carried the turkey to the table.
“No wonder it smells so good in here.” Edwina complimented the cook and then shot a look to the Scot. She’d done that once before and received a setting down.
“Indeed,” he agreed. Edwina relaxed. “Paige, did you enjoy your ride?” Paige ignored her.
“Lass, Miss Blair speaks to ye.”
“Yes,” Paige said and quickly placed her hand in her father’s.
Ever the gentleman, he seated her, then Paige. “Come.” He indicated the Gillespies. “We shall eat together this eve.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Gillespie rushed to decline, when her husband gently nudged her toward a chair. “My apron,” she said and untied it, took it off, and nervously laid it aside.
“Who will—”
“Don’t worry yer pretty head now, Rose,” Mr. Gillespie soothed. “The man asked us to his table. We must not fuss.”
“He did at that.” she whispered, still upset.
What was all the foolishness for? Edwina couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like before she came. When the Scot and his wife... it seemed strange to say it—she couldn’t imagine him wooing a woman, let alone having a child. Any romantic notions she had of him were gone the minute she walked into the cottage. He had changed. Or maybe she had changed, because she had never really known this man.
Within minutes there was much talking and to-do over the special occasion, Edwina having no idea what it could be.
“Miss Blair, I see that Mrs. Gillespie has not informed you?”
Edwina set down her fork and placed her hands in her lap. Here it comes. I’m out of here. He doesn’t like me . . .
“It seemed yers for the telling,” Mrs. Gillespie said, her voice serious.
“Of course. And right you are.”
Edwina saw Paige look down. She was disturbed. What was wrong?
“It seems I shall be in America for a few months. Chicago and... other places.”
She could tell he did not want he
r to know. Edwina shook her head and smiled. What was she supposed to say?
“I shall return in the spring.”
So he was off to see Cecelia. That’s why he did not mention his business. “Then I wish you traveling mercies.”
“Mercies?”
“Just a saying. wishing you safe travel.” He nodded. “Paige, I will be back before you know it. Be a good lass and learn as much as you can from Miss Blair. I shall test you when I return to see what you have learned.”
What fluff was that? Learn as much as you can? Jeesh, couldn’t the man see he was breaking his daughter’s heart? Scot or no Scot she was going to talk to him this evening if she had to stomp her foot and raise her voice—which she had seldom done before. Her nerves tingled.
When Paige asked politely to be dismissed in her sad little girl voice, her father patted her head and sent her off. Edwina wanted to run after her, but it wasn’t her teacher she wanted.
“Mrs. Gillespie, would you bring me the posts? There should be several... forms... waiting for me.” Alex Dunnegin asked.
She ran for the mail and laid it on the side table. The Scot had a few words with Mr. Gillespie about the gardens and the repair of the barn.
Mrs. Gillespie put her apron back on and waited for her employer to leave. It must be some pretense of manner; she couldn’t clear the table in the Laird’s presence.
The Scot pushed back his chair, picked up the large stack of mail, and headed for the door.
“Mr. Dunnegin, I would have a word with you, if you have a few minutes,” Edwina said.
He checked his watch. “My office, half past the hour.”
Edwina gazed at the clock. She had twenty minutes. If he had to get up in the morning and had yet to say his good-byes to his daughter and meet with her, it would be late before he got off to bed. She’d better have her speech ready. Off to the library.
Paper and pen in hand, she slipped off her shoes and sat at the small library table.
“Miss Blair,” she heard from the doorway sometime later. “It’s past time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was . . .” Her toes sought the shoes, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
She followed him nervously. “Sit down.” He indicated a chair. “What is it?” Zap, her thoughts left. Just as though lightning had struck her. “Well, first, is there anything you wish me to do... for Paige? Second, may we take a shopping trip to Edinburgh?”
“Shopping? Edinburgh? Why would ye ask such a thing? I thought I made it clear she is not to leave the premises.”
“Okay. I just thought—”
“You are not here to think Miss Blair. You are here to teach my daughter and protect her—” He winced slightly. “You may go to Edinburgh, if you must, but my daughter is not to leave this farm. You may arrange for her to stay with Mrs. Gillespie, if you must go.”
Edwina felt her face muscles tighten. Oh boy, now she really felt free to visit Scotland’s capital. How could she talk to this stubborn man? He was so... so hard, immovable, and unkind.
“You knew yer responsibilities when I brought ye here, lass. I meant for them to be carried out. Especially now that I will be out of the country.” He paced.
Evidently he was worried, for some reason unknown to her. Perhaps she should trust the man. Her instincts said she should.
“I will watch over her. She will not leave.”
He seemed to relax. “Continue as you were. Paige seems to like you. Except she said you would not allow her to play outside, which she loves. Is that true?”
“No, sir, it is not. We go out every day. In fact, I have allowed her to hold our classes out of doors, when weather allows.”
“I see. She also says you are mean.”
Edwina’s lips turned up in a half smile. “I imagine she thinks that at times. I make her behave during class time.”
“As I informed you she should.” He had actually agreed. “Is that all?” He looked up and straight into her eyes. “No... no, it isn’t,” she stammered.
“Well, out with it, lass. I’ve work to do this evening.”
“You did not notice your daughter’s sadness at the table this evening?”
“Sadness? Why, she is happy. We rode together.”
“And you think that settles everything?” she shot back.
“Say what you mean, lass.” His tone turned menacing.
“Okay. She needs you to... to... talk with her, listen to what she has to say. She loves you so much and you . . .” Edwina felt tears sting her eyes. Oh brother, now she was going to make herself look the fool.
“I talk with the lass.”
“Not like that. I mean, really talk to her.”
“How?”
“For instance, perhaps you could go to her room and talk about her mother, how she feels about Silsee and Mrs. Gillespie’s cookies, things like that. She needs to know you love her.”
Edwina saw the slow burn begin on the handsome face.
He stood. “I will not ’ave the teacher teaching the child’s father to love his child, woman.”
“Be that as it may, sir, you asked the question, and I answered it.” Edwina felt a strange new emotion—stubbornness. And she knew exactly where she’d learned it.
“Ye can be sure, I am most distressed. I shall now have to leave the country with my daughter in your care.”
Edwina relented. “Sir, you need have no concern. I will follow your instructions and teach and protect the child. You have my word.”
He seemed to understand. “As it should be.” He tossed a pen down and stood. “If there is nothing else . . .”
Dismissed. She would not say another word. Her motives should be clear to the man. And the entire episode had taken its toll on her nerves. The muscles in her neck began to scream. She rubbed her neck. “Mrs. Gillespie will know your whereabouts should your daughter need you?”
“Of course,” he said between clenched teeth. Well, she had to ask. What if something happened?