Chapter 4
T he next morning held the promise of another sunny day, still uncharacteristically warm for this time of year.
It wasn’t unusual for the first couple of weeks of October to be prone to spells of mild weather, but it felt like a summer’s day, which, to be fair, said little about the Scottish climate.
The summer months were just as erratic and changeable as the autumn months.
Edward could feel the warmth permeating through his blinds and he stretched out in bed, glad he hadn’t yet upgraded his top sheet to a duvet. In this heat, a duvet would leave him sweating in the night, making him crabbit the following morning– even more so than usual.
It also wasn’t like him to sleep in. He was usually up before the sun, but this morning he felt like the world could wait.
His thoughts drifted to the day ahead and curiosity about June’s daughter crept in.
His hands lay across his chest, one absentmindedly playing with the small patch of hair nestled there.
Swatting away thoughts about what she looked like, he focused on the room instead.
He needed to paint the ceiling– he couldn’t recall when anyone last decorated the room, although, admittedly, it wasn’t particularly high on his agenda.
So much needed to be done in the house. It made him tired just thinking about it.
Feeling lazy and lacking motivation to take on any of the day’s endless tasks, he wondered when he’d last stayed in bed this long. Probably around the same time the room had last seen fresh paint.
He readjusted his covers with his foot, and the way the fabric stretched across his lower body created a slight friction that made him stir beneath the sheet. He looked down and sighed. It would be a while longer before he’d be getting out of bed then.
Torn between waiting for the situation to resolve itself or giving it a hand, Edward was too distracted to hear the voices of the two women approaching who, without warning and deep in conversation, entered the room.
They fell into immediate silence when they saw him, each momentarily too shocked to speak or move as they took in the sight of Edward and his tented sheet.
Incoherent words and hands frantically covering eyes and body parts ensued, nobody making any sense for several seconds.
“Mrs Wilson!” Edward finally said.
“Sir, I am so, so sorry, you’re usually well out of bed by now and—”
“I understand that, but—”
“Obviously if I’d known, I would never—” Mrs Wilson’s voice was high-pitched and verging on hysterical.
Edward cut in, doing his best to remain calm. “Mrs Wilson—”
“I was just showing Scarlett the house. As you know, she’ll be—”
“Mrs Wilson,” Edward said again, attempting to stop her nervous waffling. “I understand that, but if you wouldn’t mind, if you’d give me some privacy to—”
“Aye, of course. Again, my sincere apologies. Come now.” Mrs Wilson, a short and solid type of woman in her late fifties, who no doubt had seen it all, just not this particular version, regained her professional composure and ushered Scarlett out of the door.
Edward glanced at the younger woman, inexplicably annoyed by her attractiveness and the poorly hidden mirth in her eyes, which she quickly lowered when he caught her gaze, but not before she took a final glimpse at the area he was desperately trying to cover and tame, to no avail. If anything, it remained angrily rigid.
Once the women left the room, he groaned loudly. He could hear Scarlett’s chuckle following her as they hurried away down the landing.
“Enough of that,” Mrs Wilson chastised her.
He cringed and covered his face with his hands.
“Fucking hell!” Edward rolled onto his side, placing a pillow over his head.
He wasn’t the most extroverted person at the best of times, but knowing he’d have to face the women again made him feel like never leaving this room.
Edward especially didn’t want to see the fresh addition to his staff. Mrs Wilson would be the professional she always was, but he didn’t know about June’s daughter.
His thoughts drifted back to the smile in her eyes as they landed upon him, unsure if they’d been green or blue, and her messy mane of long wavy auburn hair.
She wasn’t like the usual women he went for.
Most of his girlfriends over the years had been tall, slender, horse-loving types, and honestly, he rarely paid much attention to his type , anyway.
They were women he met in his, albeit now very small, social circle.
Sisters of friends, so and so’s cousin, daughters of family friends, and a couple of women he’d encountered through the running of the estate, but never an employee.
And he shouldn’t even be going down that train of thought.
It seemed wrong to him. He felt it would be taking advantage of his position, something more expected of his brother, Leonard, but not him.
She was different, though. He’d never been so instantly attracted to anyone like that before.
He shook his head. How could he be attracted to someone he’d spent less than thirty seconds with? She was just a surprise, that was all.
The problem was, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting; a more high-maintenance city type, perhaps. Someone with designer clothes, manicured nails, and highlighted hair– not the fresh-faced, curvy, hippy-type mess in jeans and a white shirt that appeared in his bedroom doorway.
“Fucking hell!” he groaned into his pillow again.