Secret Garden (23 page)

Besides the food—and drink—a major tradition was the greeting by the laird and lady. Malcolm had volunteered to give the laird’s welcome speech this year. The lady’s role, traditionally, was to stand in the refreshment tent and greet the villagers by name. Rhiannon’s mother had prided herself that she remembered every last one.

Rhiannon would never perfectly fill her mother’s role, but she desperately hoped she could last the five minutes that Colin had challenged her with completing. If she could do that, maybe she could show him that her agoraphobia wasn’t such an obstacle.

She stood at the full-length mirror in her bedroom that Saturday morning, her fingers shaking as she fastened her silver brooch. She hadn’t dressed for such an event since she was a child.

That was another time-honored practice—the traditional clothing. Rhiannon modified it somewhat, to match her taste toward the slightly offbeat and artistically bent. She wore a short blue jersey-knit dress with a light tartan stole over her shoulders. While her brother would wear his MacDowall kilt, she’d decided on Black Watch, because Jessie had confided to Rhiannon that Colin’s kilt would be in that tartan. Jamie was a World War II veteran, and he’d fought in the Black Watch Regiment, so it was an ode to him. And Jessie had been kind enough to loan the Black Watch stole to Rhiannon.

She’d spent a fair effort drying and smoothing her hair with a flatiron and applying cosmetics. Typically she was far more casual with her appearance, but she wanted to put forth her best effort.

The mass of pipers and the crowds who followed them was quite large, and Rhiannon knew her emergence would be a spectacle to them. Not many of the villagers had seen her since she was a child. Even if work crews came to the castle, Rhiannon stayed out of view. The few people she did visit with typically came from the town of Inverness or beyond, such as Dr. McLean, her family doctor, her painting tutors and any other trusted specialists whose services she needed.

So, yes, Rhiannon imagined there would be a fair amount of curiosity about her. She’d thought about the day at length, and hopefully she’d found a strategy that would work for her.

Selecting some drop sapphire earrings that matched her eye color and then slipping her feet into a pair of short boots, she was ready—armored and prepared for battle. She took one last appraising glance in the mirror. This would be the closest she came to fancy dress, and her heart was feeling skittish.

Colin is my date today,
she reminded herself for the hundredth time this morning.
Don’t chicken out!

The pleasure she would have of being with him and watching his reactions to the spectacle was a great incentive. He’d never been to the castle in June before, had never witnessed the entertainment that
was
the gathering. She would urge him to go on to the Highland Games afterward—he would enjoy that.

Downstairs, Rhiannon greeted Paul. Bustling about the kitchen, ordering the caterers about, he was in his officious glory. When he saw Rhiannon, he shooed away the workers and stepped into the sitting room with her.

“You look beautiful, miss.”

“Do you think I can do this?”

“How do you feel?”

She took a shaky breath. “As if I’m taking a small step that I’m jittery about, but ready to do.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. You can count on me to help.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she said gratefully.

He beamed at her. “Now, we have thirty minutes until the family arrives, then another hour until the bagpipers.”

At the word
bagpipers
, he made a face showing his distaste.

A remembrance of mirth bubbled within her. “Poor Paul, you never liked the pipers, did you?”

“The dreadful caterwauling,” he confided behind the back of his hand. “Please don’t tell your mother I said so.”

Three weeks apart from her gently formal mother, and Paul, their proper English butler, was subtly transforming. Rhiannon winked at him. She rather liked that he was confiding in her.

“So, is our plan ready to be executed?” she asked.

“Yes. Molly is fed and brushed. She’ll be standing beside you in the refreshment tent.”

“Excellent.”

“Malcolm should be arriving shortly. He’s prepared a short speech as stand-in for the laird. Kristin will be with him, as well.”

“Ah.” Apprehension swirled in Rhiannon’s stomach. She hoped Kristin would be okay with the news that Rhiannon definitely planned to greet the villagers as lady of the castle. No backup was needed, or at least, she hoped so.

Rhiannon checked her mobile phone—no messages. “Paul, have you seen Colin?”

“Ten minutes ago he knocked at the door for you, but I told him you weren’t ready for visitors.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“He said he would find you, miss.”

If she didn’t find him first. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Paul.”

He nodded, and Rhiannon headed for the back garden, her secret garden. Her boots made a solid clunking noise on the paving stones leading to the wooden door. Just a few, quiet moments of peace and then she would be ready.

She must have forgotten to lock it, because the door was unlocked and inside Colin was sitting at her tree swing, absently lounging in thought. When he heard her approach, he turned his head around and stood, smiling lazily at her.

The sight of his familiar face made her knees weak, her palms damp. But it was the kilt he wore that had her swallowing with an unexpected lust that hit her to her core.

The black kilt jacket fit him smartly about his broad shoulders. Silver buttons in a row down his chest. A Black Watch kilt with sporran in front, and from his knees down, she admired his muscular, male legs with a smattering of dark brown hair.

He wore low boots and short socks—not the long kilt socks and formal polished shoes that were customary. Like her, he was not so traditional. She covered her mouth and held back a smile.

“Rhiannon...” He spoke in that low voice that echoed to her bones and drew shivers from her. “You look great.”

“And you...fill out a kilt quite well,” she said, breathless.

His gaze lazily traveled over her. Somehow, everything between them had changed. He met her eyes in a direct, knowing stare.

She placed her hand on her chest, her heart pounding.

“Will you sit with me for a moment, before everybody arrives?” His voice was low.

She found herself nodding, unable to speak.

He shrugged out of his jacket and spread it on the grass for her to sit upon. As she walked to him, he took her hand in his and helped her down. His hands were large, rough and calloused from his life outside. Hers were soft from all the lavender hand cream she went through—the chemicals from her oil paints and other solutions were terrible for skin.

But he didn’t mind her hands—he gently let go of them as she settled into a reclining position, her stole on the ground beneath her elbows, her boots crossed at the ankle and the skirt of her dress stretched as close to her knees as the thin material would go. He sat cross-legged beside her, and his bare knee brushed against her leg.

All week, in an unspoken pact, they’d been so careful not to touch each other. Ever since they’d kissed in her studio all those days ago, it was as if they’d agreed never to mention it or approach that possibility again. He was preparing to leave the castle and Scotland. She had to stay, obviously. For them to have a physical relationship wasn’t wise.

But now, in the peace and serenity of her garden, with no sound but the whisper of wind in the trees and the occasional song of a skylark calling to his mate, it was too easy to forget those differences.

She sat up, leaning her weight on the heels of her palms and dropping back her head to gaze at him. He’d missed a small spot of shaving cream—she reached out and dabbed it away with her finger.

He smiled directly into her eyes. “You’re relaxed already. You don’t need to meditate in your garden.”

“No,” she said, surprised, “I guess not.”

“How do you want me to stand beside you today, Rhiannon? Close by, or with plenty of space?”

“Like we are now is nice.” She gave him a long look, replete with a meaningful smile. She was fine, comfortable with Colin just the way he was with her. But if he wanted, she was willing for so much more.

She ran her fingers lightly over his hand. A lock of hair dropped over his eyes, but she could see the longing and the need in him, too.

“You can hold my hand,” she whispered. “If you’d like. It might help me get past the initial fear.”

“I’ll be by your side as long as you want,” he said. “You can count on it.”

Her heart filled with happiness. She stretched her fingers so they were intertwined with his. He had done this with her in the kitchen that first Saturday and she’d been shocked by it. Now she yearned for more.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Each knuckle. Each fingertip. It was as if a gate had been lifted between them, and the emotions were flooding out.

And then a succession of car horns sounded from the direction of the castle’s front entrance.

Rhiannon gave an inward sigh. “That’s probably my cousin Gerry.”

“How many relatives will be here, exactly?”

“Today? Well, you know Malcolm, plus his wife, Kristin. I’m not sure which of my aunts and uncles will be present—Paul has been tracking that—but I talked with my cousin Isabel, so I know she’s coming. And Gerry, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “He never misses a party. He’s one of the boisterous ones.”

“You’ll have to introduce me to everybody,” Colin said, smiling.

“Yes, and you may run screaming, but I warn you, they’ll forever count on you to be a part of our gatherings if you’re seen with me today.”

“That was the lecture Jamie gave me, in essence.”

“So you’re prepared for that?” Rhiannon was saying it lightly, but she was aware of how meaningful the sentiment between the testing, jokey words was.

Could she
really
count on Colin to understand the extent of her fear?

“Watch me and see.” Colin winked at her, then got up, brushed off his kilt and held out a hand to her.

She clasped it and he hoisted her up, playfully.

And yet...he faced her in all seriousness, holding both her hands in his. “I have faith in you. You’ll make this work.”

She swallowed. He really did believe in her. That made all the difference in the world. “Thank you for suggesting this to me in the first place,” she said quietly. “I mean it.” She was proud of herself just for making the attempt, and that was a big change for her.

Suddenly, Molly bounded toward them, barking. Rhiannon had left the door open, and when she went and checked the pathway outside, she saw that Malcolm and Kristin were down the lane, knocking on the door to her art studio.

Motioning Colin outside, she quickly closed and locked the garden door.

“We’ll be right there!” Rhiannon called to them.

“Hi, Rhiannon!” Kristin waved happily. Rhiannon’s sister-in-law had worn a long MacDowall tartan skirt and a frilly white blouse. She had taken her promise to assist Rhiannon quite seriously.

Behind her, Colin made a small noise in his throat. “She’s dressed just like your mother used to, for all the big castle functions.”

“Yes.” Rhiannon nodded. “She’s ready to step in for me, in case I back out. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to talk with her privately.”

“Of course.” He looked at her carefully, as if he was going to say something, but then decided against it. “I’ll, uh, do some advance work on the reception setup with Malcolm.”

She gave Colin a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

“We’re okay, Rhiannon,” Colin said. “If things get crazy, we’ll just...remember our time in the garden this morning. That’ll get us through.”

She nodded. Colin had been watching the pathway with one eye as Malcolm advanced toward them, glowering questionably. He looked like a mean, fierce Highlander in his kilt.

“Is that, uh, a dagger in his sock?” Colin asked.

“Technically, it’s called a
sgian-dubh
.” She pronounced it
skean-doo
.

“Yeah, I sort of remember that. It’s all coming back to me now.” He scratched his head. “It’s a ceremonial knife, right? Not sharp or anything.”

“In Malcolm’s case, I’m afraid, that’s a real blade.” With a wry smile, she shrugged at Colin. “If you’d like one, too, I can raid our castle stores so you’ll be evenly matched with him.”

“Yeah, you guys always had a lot of weapons lying around, I remember that, too.”

She laughed.

But she’d noticed that Colin wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He kept his hand protectively on the curve of her back. Malcolm hadn’t scared him off.

She was glad. She enjoyed the feeling it gave her, of proprietary warmth, as if they belonged together and had a future as a couple.

Her brother and his wife stopped before them. “Hello, Malcolm. Hi, Kristin.” Rhiannon gave them a huge smile. “This is Colin Walker—he’s my escort today. Colin, you know my brother. And this is Kristin, his wife.”

They all exchanged greetings. Kristin was her usual self, chatty and friendly. Shorter than Rhiannon, she had beautiful curly blond hair and sparkling green eyes. In Rhiannon’s opinion, her brother had found the perfect match for him.

“May I speak to you in private?” Rhiannon murmured to her sister-in-law.

“Of course! Let’s go up to your room,” she said, dragging Rhiannon away.

They headed inside. Kristin had spent several occasions overnight at the castle with Rhiannon. She was familiar with the layout.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Rhiannon sat on the window cushion and Kristin relaxed on the bed. “You look wonderful,” Rhiannon said. “I hope you’re not disappointed that I’m making the traditional greeting today.”

“Are you kidding?” Kristin sat up, her eyes bright. “I think it’s great. I’d hoped you would, but I came prepared anyway, as you can see.” She indicated her long skirt, rolling her eyes. “This is what Malcolm recommended, though it does seem kind of hot outside for it. Am I overdressed?”

“No, it’s perfect. You know my brother, always the traditionalist.”