Edwina (3 page)

From the looks of the faxed
paper she now held in her hands, she was to stay in one of
Edinburgh’s finest,
The Cannon
Brae
. At several hundred dollars per
night, Cecelia had scheduled massages, beauty treatments, and all
sorts of body shaping and exercises. Edwina hated exercise and
would rather walk the downtown side streets meeting the people in
the small shops, drive down a country road wondering who lived in
this house or that, or read a book. Cecelia would much rather walk
on a treadmill while listening to a CD about the newest diet fad
than do anything Edwina considered interesting.

Well, it’s time to pack and
be on my way—I’ve inconvenienced this man enough
.

Before packing, she wanted to see the land
that surrounded the castle. Walking on bare feet across the oval
rug, then onto the wooden floor, she pulled back the heavy velvet
drape and gasped. Blue and green hills sledded their way across the
land. Up and down they rolled. Colorful spring flowers—yellows,
purples, blues—performed their nature dance in the May winds.

The scene before her sent her mind fleeing
into some dream place. Squinting, she could envision a tall,
beautiful woman dressed in flowing white gauze traipsing over the
hills singing some romantic Scottish ballad. A man dressed in the
Scottish plaid would rein in his black steed and haul her up behind
him, and they would disappear over the knoll into a life of pure
happiness.

What foolishness!
Edwina shook the cobwebs from her brain. Since
when had she put on such an impractical countenance? Such puffery.
Everyone knew that plain women with fifteen extra pounds could not
look forward to such goings-on. She must get out of here before she
turned into Cinderella. And her with a degree in Library Science.
Perhaps the reading of too many books had mushed her
mind.

Stomping back to her room, she slid her feet
into her black flats and in doing so became just Edwina.

Checking the itinerary once again, Edwina
packed the last of her things, making herself a promise she would
buy a new pair of pajamas, and snapped her case shut. It was time
to thank her host and remove herself from his home... castle.

A smile crept to her lips. Cecelia had never
planned on meeting a handsome Scot, nor staying in his castle. Sure
enough, if the man had laid eyes on her stepsister, he would have
been smitten instantly. For Cecelia possessed what all men seemed
to want. Beauty, charm, and intellectual savvy.

Edwina had not been born with any of it. But,
she assured herself, she had been born with rational reasoning. And
in her chosen field and simple lifestyle, she needed it
desperately, especially now when it seemed her Cinderella senses
had increased and her common sensibilities had decreased.

Chapter 5

D
ragging her luggage to the door, she left it for Reardon to
fetch later and opened the heavy door to the hall. Her feet took
her immediately to the arched window. As she gazed down, her dark
blue eyes followed the gentle swooping of the hills... not
mountains, but hills. The blue-green of the lush countryside bid
her to investigate. Unfortunately, time would not permit. Sadly,
she turned from the window.

Thirty minutes later, she still could not
bring herself to stop studying each huge framed picture that hung
along the long, wide corridor. It was like walking through an art
gallery. She stopped at each oil painting and busied her mind. Who
was he? The Scot’s father? Grandfather? Reardon had said the family
occupied this castle since... what was it... 1702? The paintings of
the women fascinated her. What would it have been like to live
three hundred years ago? Walking these very halls. How many times
had the castle been attacked? What babies had been born in these
rooms? Her mind wandered until she felt a chill. What was it about
this castle that pulled her deeper into its history? Inhaling
deeply, she slowly descended the stairs. Each step was at least
twice the width and length of the stairs at her apartment.

Elegance reeked from every column standing
sentinel along the staircase that guided her downward. At the
bottom, she let her hand rest on the newel post. Others had rested
their hand here. But she was an intruder, not a family member,
which prompted her to wander toward the open doorway of a room that
looked very much like a Victorian parlor. She stepped into it, awed
at its size. The tall ceilings were a huge artist’s canvas painted
with golden cherubs, chestnut horses, and pink roses intertwined
with small green leaves. There were voices. Edwina turned. Walking
toward her was the most exquisite woman she had ever laid eyes on.
She wanted more than anything to rub her eyes. Was she dreaming?
Perhaps she was still in her apartment at home and this was just a
figment of her very tired imagination. But her gaze could not leave
the confection that moved toward her.

The woman was much like the one she pictured
moving across the hills. Silly. This woman was real. Her dress was
of turquoise silk, and it shimmered on the slender figure as she
moved through the sun-dappled room. Ebony eyes appeared from her
flawless dark skin. Hair as black as her Chinese vase at home fell
around the woman’s elegant face in perfect symmetry. Suddenly a
voice came from her mouth.

“Are you the American from the hotel?”

“Yes,” Edwina whispered, trying to
distinguish the accent.

“Ah, then you . . .” The woman stopped and
smiled slightly, wiping away any disdain Edwina might have had for
her intense beauty.

“I... I’m sorry for the mix-up,” Edwina
blurted. “I don’t mean to be a problem.”

“Tis not a problem... as you say.” The woman
skimmed across the floor and pulled a long satin rope.

“I am Ilana Mamara from Madrid.”

That was it! Spanish.

Bertilda appeared in the doorway with folded
hands answering the call. “Miss?”

“Would you mind bringing us tea? And
biscuits.”

She must be starving, for
she’s as thin as a pencil
, Edwina thought.
“My name is Edwina Blair.”
Did Scottish
etiquette require her to offer her hand?

The woman nodded politely. “Please sit. We
await Laird Dunnegin. He is out for his morning ride, and we shall
not be able to start without him.”

That slight smile again. The woman lowered
herself into the elegant, tall-backed cream colored chair and
smoothed her dress then straightened her back. Edwina stepped
lightly to the sofa and sat down slowly, placing her own hands in
her lap.

Edwina straightened her
back too and couldn’t help but feel as though they were on a stage
set for a Victorian play
. So the handsome
Scot was a Laird.

Bertilda appeared with a silver tray and tea.
Little biscuits were offered and Edwina, careful not to rattle her
cup in the saucer, took two and laid them alongside the cup.
Sipping quietly, she fished for something to say.

“It’s beautiful here,” she ventured.

“It is beautiful in
Scotland. I am from Spain where it is
more
beautiful.”

“So it is beautiful there too?” Edwina found
herself leaning forward.

“Most beautiful. But
different from Scotland. Our people are much more, what do you
say?,
animated
than those here. They are stuffy in Scotland.” She laughed
lightly and lifted the cup to her lips.

Edwina nodded and sipped her tea, munched on
her biscuit, and realized she was very hungry.

“Where do you live in America?”

“
In Michigan, a small town
called Niles. Just two hours from Chicago.” Edwina added that to
show she was close to a wonderful large city.

“Ah, I know Michigan well. I was once in
Chicago and traveled to a beautiful home on... Is it Lake Michigan?
I think.”

“Yes, Lake Michigan. Many people live in
Chicago and build their summer homes—more like castles—on the Lake.
There are many ports for yachts and such,” Edwina said proudly.

“It is as you say, beautiful. But Spain . .
.” She sighed and looked away.

“Well, I must be going.” Edwina suddenly
found she needed to be gone when the Scot came back. She had over-
stayed as it was. “Please tell Mr. um... Laird Dunnegin that I am
grateful for his help last evening.” Standing she looked down at
her plain shoes. Much too inelegant for this place.

“Ye may tell him yerself,” a booming voice
echoed from behind her sending her teacup slithering off her
saucer. She caught the cup with one hand, but a small amount of tea
slung itself across her white blouse.

“Ah, you are back early,” Ilana said as she
rose from her chair, disposed of her cup and glided toward the
Scot.

Ignoring her wet blouse, Edwina set the
offending contraption on the table and backed away since the other
two people in the room had eyes only for each other. Now was her
time to square things up and get out before she caused another
ruckus.

“Thank you so much for your kindness.” She
bowed slightly, hoping it was customary and turned on her heel.

“Ah, but you must stay,” he called. But sure
that he was speaking only to his beloved, she kept walking.

“Then ye do not wish to attend my birthday
celebration?” He had caught up with her, the beautiful Ilana the
perfect distance behind him, so as not to appear too eager.

“
Me? Your birthday? You
want me to stay?” Edwina, now turned, asked.

“Yes. Ye must stay for another day and
celebrate with us. An American is always sought after at a party
here in Scotland. There are many questions my guests would like to
ask of ye.”

“They want to ask me questions?” Startled at
his words, she could not think fast enough to form a response. But
a look behind the tall man’s wide shoulders told her the beautiful
Miss Ilana was not thrilled with that proposition. What could he
want with an American from a little town in Michigan? And what
answers could she possibly form to questions from Scots? It all
seemed silly.

“Really, I must go, but I thank you sincerely
for allowing me to stay in your... your castle.” She waved her
hand. “It is very beautiful, but I must insist on leaving. I have
an itin- erary. And I will need to make my plans sure so that I can
go along on the bus with the tour group.”

“Ah, but you do not know that Monday is the
best day to start your tour. That gives you today and tomorrow.” He
spoke stubbornly, as if in charge of her life.

A quick glance at Miss Ilana told a different
story. She was a woman scorned.

Edwina’s eyes narrowed. What was this Scot up
to anyway? Didn’t he want to be alone with his fiancée? After all,
it was the reason he had helped her at the hotel... to get home to
his beloved, right?

Edwina excused herself and slipped up the
stairs to change her stained blouse. Something seemed awkward, but
she wasn’t exactly aware of what it was. Yet.

Chapter 6

W
ith a fresh sweater, she descended the stairs to find the two
of them talking quietly. She tried to ignore them but was
caught.

Well what did it matter? So she might as well
make the best of it. “You say the best tours start on Monday?” She
eyed both Ilana and the Scot.

“Would I not know such things?” he said,
pulling his beloved’s hand into his elbow. “Come you two, we shall
plan the celebration while we dine.”

Then he did the most amazing thing. He took
her hand, put it in his other elbow, and pulled her along. Quick as
she could, Edwina wiggled her hand out of his embrace, her face
redder than a Michigan apple. Did Scottish men have no sense? The
beautiful Ilana seemed not to notice, but sure as yesterday’s rain,
Edwina knew she must be storming inside.

To make matters worse, Bertilda appeared and
looked quite affronted. Edwina heard the puff of air she released
in disgust. Was she that unwanted as to infuriate even the
help?

Something was amiss.

“
Will ye be wantin’ yer
special brew?” She directed the question to her employer, but
Edwina saw the smirk that lifted Ilana’s beautiful
mouth.

“We would,” the Scot said directly.

“Aye,” came the simple reply from Bertilda
without so much as the flash of an eyelash.

“Ah, seat yourself here.” He took them to a
dining table.

Edwina took the offered chair and turned beet
red again. Shouldn’t etiquette have called for him to seat his
fiancée first? Something was definitely going on. And it couldn’t
be good.

“Ilana, dear, you must sit near me.” Then he
swooped forward in a very gentlemanly bow and seated his
fiancée.

A breath escaped Edwina’s mouth. All must be
well, then.

The handsome Laird Dunnegin had eyes only for
Ilana. Edwina sat, elbows on table, until she remembered her
manners and placed folded hands in her lap, making great work of
viewing the room.

She thanked the Lord when Bertilda entered,
tea service upon the tray. The slight noise and activity made the
uncomfortable silence more bearable.

It had been her dubious assignment to
celebrate the birthday, but it was a load heavier than she wished
to carry. Edwina knew she was not wanted here, except by the Scot.
He had a second purpose, undetected by her practical nature as of
yet.

Breakfast began to appear.
Two other young females, dressed in black with white aprons, joined
in their service alongside Bertie.
A name
that more suits the woman
, Edwina thought
as a smile crept across her face. Bertie did not like the Miss
Ilana. That was becoming very clear. Each time she appeared at the
beautiful woman’s side, she seemed to wear a sneer that left Edwina
quite unnerved.