Chapter 56
“Great!” Cecelia and Spencer said at once.
“I’m in need of a commendable restaurant,” her sister said excitedly. “Just like at home.”
“And I want to meet the chef, check out the Scottish cooking style,” Spencer chimed in.
“Then off we go.” Alex Dunnegin said. Edwina was surprised to see him dressed so casually.
The man lived in a suit. He wore navy dress pants with a tan knit shirt.
Cecelia had on a print dress—casual, yet elegant. Edwina had chosen her flowery skirt and matching cream blouse. Spencer sported a black suede jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans. With his spiked hair, he looked like a hip movie star. The girls would be turning their heads tonight.
The foursome fit well enough, although tightly, in the Scot’s black car. Reardon had to share the front seat with Spencer. Edwina wondered if he had ever done that before. Then she remembered Reardon and their fanciful experience in the rusty red truck and almost threw herself into a fit of laughter again.
The Scot ended up in the middle, the two sisters on either side of him. Cecelia had not been able to keep herself from talking about the thorn between two roses. The Scot had said glancing each way, “One rose and one daisy.” She guessed immediately she was the daisy, Cecelia the rose. It was true enough.
She stared out the window, not because she was jealous, but because the truth was so apparent to her now. But God had given her a gift. The gift of freedom. She had learned so much since leaving her hometown and stepping out. She no longer needed to have everything in perfect order, nor did she need to know where she was going next. Something would work out. Her only regret would be the missing of Paige. Especially after the accident.
But then, everything happened for a reason—she was sure of that. She was no longer afraid to try new things, to laugh a little... a lot, if the situation called for it. She smiled at the thought. Then that would be what she would do. She’d be off to try something new when the time came to leave.
Reardon slowed, pulled under the portico, exited, and opened the doors, bowing slightly. He took out Cecelia first, then came around to get her. She smiled as he held out his gloved hand. To her amazement, he caught her eye and winked.
Reardon had winked at her.
They were being seated, and she still couldn’t get that off her mind. Then he didn’t think badly of her anymore? She was relieved. The man had character, and she had always liked him.
She sat smiling like a cat with milk on her whiskers.
Cecelia and Spencer took off to check out the restaurant. They were going to take a long walk pretending to look for the restrooms and in so doing, subtly view the presentations on clients’ plates, decorations, cleanliness, and all other things restaurateurs look for.
Meanwhile, the Scot was sitting across from her, a smile resting easily on his face.
She kicked her shoes off, and one hit the table leg. She looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
The Scot lifted the tablecloth and looked underneath. She pulled her skirt over her knees and whispered, “What are you doing?”
He sat up straight and gazed at her pink face. He loved those blue eyes. Her saucy smile when she was irritated and the way she looked away pretending he wasn’t there.
“Edwina,” he called, but she refused to turn her head.
Cecelia and Spencer came back to the table, much to her relief. They began talking about all they’d learned. Edwina and Alex sat in uncomfortable silence. What did the Scot want anyway? He’d been acting strangely ever since he read her story. Had he some joke to make or something? He kept his eyes on her most of the evening.
If she had committed some faux pas, she wanted to know about it. She cast her eyes about wildly trying to avoid his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying her misery. And for that she was going to pay him back.
Suddenly she felt a kick. She pretended not to notice. Then it happened again. She did not want to be rude, but who was... It was the Scot! His face was telling. Footsie under the table, it was then, eh? She’d show him.
She scooted back and wound her stockinged feet around her chair legs where he could not reach them. Such goings on in a nice restaurant. And with Cecelia sitting right here.
Edwina could see he was trying not to let anyone notice, but she saw right through him. He was trying to find her to kick her again.
The meal came and right on time. Suddenly talk turned to other things, and she was able to eat in perfect peace.
Her employer paid for the meal. Cecelia and Spencer wanted one more walk around, and they promised to be back in ten minutes. The Scot rose, so she followed. She dug her toes around seeking her shoes. Sneaking a glance under the table, she couldn’t see them. Panic. Where were they? She was still bending this way and that trying to lay eyes upon the shoes.
“Looking for these?” Mr. Dunnegin showed her the shoes, then stuck one in each back pocket.
“Give me those. Sir.” She remembered her manners.
“Not a chance, babe,” he said smartly. Babe? Edwina’s eyebrows rose high enough to nearly touch her widow’s peak. So he wasn’t going to give them to her. Well, she’d show him. She’d walk right through the restaurant without them and hope she embarrassed him. That would serve the stubborn man right.
Cecelia and Spencer joined them. He ignored her feeble attempts to get next to him so she could rescue her shoes from his pockets. Now she was getting mad. It was time to go and no shoes.
The Scot led the way. She followed Cecelia and Spencer, face red as a Michigan apple as she made her way through the patrons, knowing they were staring at her shoeless feet.
“Give me my shoes, you Scot.” She sidled up next to him and whispered loudly.
“For a kiss, lass.”
Edwina sputtered. “How dare you?”
“Ye dare a Scot?” He sounded menacing.
“No... it’s just that . . .” She looked around lest Cecelia should hear such talk.
“They took a walk,” Mr. Dunnegin told her.
“What... so you think you can play games with me?”
“No games, lass.” His green eyes turned greener. Edwina didn’t understand anything about this whole affair. What had happened to the serious Scot... the one who made great work of his station? Who hardly ever smiled or left work long enough to come home for more than a few days? She scolded herself. He had been concentrating on keeping his daughter from being swept away by an evil grandfather. That’s what he was doing, Edwina. There you go judging people again.
They were at the car. Reardon was not there. The Scot opened the door and commanded, “Sit.”
She got in and then he said, “Turn, put yer feet out here.”
Edwina turned on the seat, her legs dangling out of the car door. “So, you’ve decided to let me have my shoes, have ye?” She was not even near the forgiving point.
“Aye.” He reached for her ankle. His hand was warm. His fingers resting on her skin felt like a caress. She shivered.
“Cold?”
“Yes. No. It’s okay... just give me my shoes.” She shot her hand out. Perhaps it would be better if she put them on herself.
“Quit fidgeting, lass,” he said, the strangest smile on his face.
Edwina felt the shoe being put on her foot. He was so slow about it. She thought she’d die of embarrassment if he didn’t get to it. Not to mention the shivers going up her leg at his warm touch.
Then he reached for her other ankle and put that shoe on so slowly she thought she was going to scream. “Would you get up?” she said looking around. “People will think this is all very strange, you kneeling like that,” she whispered and pulled her feet into the car.
He remained there. Edwina could not imagine his purpose. He just kept looking at her. She started to wonder if her clothes were buttoned up wrong and snuck a look.
“What?” She finally squeaked.
“Do ye see I’m on one knee, lass?” She looked down.
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br /> “Aye, so?”
“Do ye see anything in my eyes?”
She looked. And looked away. Her heart had jumped from its safe position in her chest. He looked... like... she saw love there. Surely not for her. . . .
She gazed over his shoulder looking for Cecelia. Surely he . . .
He continued to look at her, the stubborn Scot that he was.
Her nerves were jingling. “Look at me, lass.” She could not. Her eyes darted about. “Ye cannot get away.”
“I... I... would have you know . . .” Just then she saw his face coming closer. Before she could say another word, he was kissing her. Her. Her arms flailed.
“What if Cecelia sees us?” She pushed him away, righteous anger sputtering from her mouth. The Scot sat back on his haunches, giving her a chance to catch her breath.
His tone serious, he said, “I’ve noticed ye honor beauty and skill. I would have chosen ye’re sister if I admired those attributes.”
He sounded sad.
Edwina’s heart began to crack. Tears crept up and attempted to gush out in a flood.
“Lass, I’ve chosen you.”
“Me?” she was truly shocked.
“Ye lass.” For once in her life, Edwina did not know what to say.
“It is ye I love.” He made the point clear, for by the looks of it she wasn’t listening. Then he was kissing her again. Softly his lips moved across hers. So it was true, then. No man could kiss a girl like that and not mean it... at least she hoped above all things that it was true. She could feel her boneless arms trying to reach up and put them around the man’s neck.
He helped her. She felt his warm touch on her forearms as they were lifted up.
When the kiss ended, Edwina could barely stand the chill she felt when he moved away and got on one knee again. “Will ye marry me, Edwina Emily Blair? Me and Paige, lass?”
Edwina hesitated and wished more than anything she could hear him say it again—just to be sure. But no, he had said it. His eyes told her it was true.