Chapter 11
ELEVEN
MY LITTLE SISTER
Mathilda
The morning sunlight gleamed on my collection of yellow bowls and vases, set high on the kitchen shelf. They were all new, no history to them. None had ever belonged to a person with a title, and at least two had IKEA stamped on the base.
Not that there was anything wrong with IKEA, but having seen the antiquities scattered around Callum’s home, my trinkets felt meaningless.
In his big central kitchen, a battered metal helmet had held cutlery.
When I’d queried it, he’d waved a hand and mentioned some local skirmish where it had been worn by his ancestor.
A ding in the base showed how it had protected the man from a sword blow to the head.
Lifesaving spoon holders. Nothing I owned could compete with that.
Propping my elbows on my square dining table, I ran my critical gaze over the rest of the kitchen in the house my dad had bought when I’d started at Bristol University.
Was that doorframe always so narrow? Such low headroom.
If I had my hair in a top knot, it skimmed the frame.
Someone of Callum’s height would be at risk of a dented forehead if they happened to forget the low lintel say, in the middle of the night.
He’d have to wear his helmet to be safe.
“Why are you chuckling at the doorway? What did it ever do to you?” Beth strolled in, carrying a breakfast bowl.
“It’s too small for a tall man, if I happened to have one as a visitor.”
It had been nearly a week since I’d seen Callum, and Beth and I had been ships that passed in the night.
The ridiculous hours she worked meant we often went days without seeing one another.
Now we were both home—I was working an evening event tonight but had the rest of the day off—I wanted to talk to her.
I needed to share the confusion in my mind with one other person before I got on a train to London for lunch with my mother and sister.
A meeting that I set up in order to talk about Callum.
My need for moral support had never been greater.
Beth clattered about, shoving her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. Then she took the seat next to mine. “You’re talking about having the giant Scot over to stay. Go you! When, and do we need a special sign so I know to stay out of the house?”
Beth knew Callum had come to my office and whisked me away and, mostly through text messages, I’d recounted meeting his ex, and kissing him in the rain in the airport.
That kiss… It fried my brain whenever I thought of it. Cool rain on my skin, his hot lips on mine. The intoxicating taste of him on my tongue. Which was why my next sentence sounded so wrong. “I’m not sure if I should see him again.”
Beth stared, agog. “Why? Is it because of Stephen?”
“Yuck,” we said in unison, as we always did at my ex’s name.
Stephen and I had only dated for a couple of months half a year ago, but he’d been all things charming.
As well as an unapologetic cheat. When I’d walked into his office and found him entangled with another woman, he’d had the nerve to laugh it off and invite me to join in.
Then he’d called me a prude for my outrage.
Like exclusivity was suddenly old-fashioned.
My ex boyfriend’s betrayal had formed part of my reasoning for even hearing Dominic’s marriage offer. At the point he’d offered, my mind had been in a dark place. What difference did it make marrying for love when the relationships I’d seen sucked?
The crash course of my all-day date with Callum had shifted something in my perception. I hadn’t asked him how he viewed monogamy, but I knew what his answer would be. He’d frown then cluck his tongue, maybe even swear as he gave me his opinion on cheats.
With the sands shifting around me, I needed another perspective. Watching Beth for her reaction, I shared my inner thoughts. “A little over a month ago, a man proposed to me, and I haven’t told him no.”
Silence. Then, “What man?”
“A colleague of my dad’s.”
“Someone you dated? Doesn’t your dad work with a load of crusty old dudes?”
“He does, and no. I’ve barely spoken to this guy beyond polite chat.”
“Then…why did he ask you?”
“He needs a wife for appearance reasons, and I fit the bill. Unmarried, discreet, and I’ve been seen in company with him enough to make a surprise engagement feasible.”
“But you want babies. You told me you always did.”
I raised one shoulder because I couldn’t bring myself to say I didn’t care. I’d be postponing having my own family for a few years. That hurt, but it was a price I’d be willing to pay to safeguard Scarlet.
My friend pursed her lips. “Without wanting to seem judge-y, what the hell?”
I exhaled and sat back in my chair. “I’m aware what it sounds like. But being married and settled will mean Dad will let Scarlet come live with me. Dominic knows this, and it’s the only reason I heard him out.”
There it was, the cold-hearted fact exposed.
Beth and I had lived together for a year after she’d answered my roommate-wanted ad, and she’d met my family several times.
She knew I worried for Scarlet, but she hadn’t heard the bitter comments from my father or seen the evidence of my sister’s problems. Or Mom’s.
She had witnessed my family’s divide, but we’d never discussed the reason for it, nor the damage that Scarlet was taking on.
I loved my friend, though we were chalk and cheese in almost every way.
She was easygoing where I planned and replanned.
I loved matching underwear—nice, silky pieces that made me feel secretly sexy.
If Beth remembered to wear a bra, she wouldn’t have a hope of matching it to anything.
We both had goals, and that was why we got along.
More than once, we’d sat and strategized over how to cope in our busy lives. I cared about her as much as I did about my family, and right now, I just needed her to know my dilemma. To accept that I was in a bad situation and trying to make it good.
As I looked at her, she had her intense thinking face on. There was no true judgment there. She rocked back an inch. “How about this: if you want Scarlet to come live with us, let’s just go and get her. I’ll drive. I can be a couple of hours late for my first shift without getting fired.”
A laugh erupted from me, a weight lifted from sharing my problems. “Dad would make her go back. He’d never tolerate it. But thank you.”
“Ask him.” Beth placed the words so simply, like I hadn’t tried that already.
She rolled her eyes. “Ask him again! You never know. Wait, is the proposal guy blackmailing you?” I shook my head.
“Then tell him where to shove his plan, or as your best friend, I will protest the shit out of that wedding. Like in The Graduate? I would bang those windows until they fell in. Because no way am I ever letting you marry for anything other than a fine Scottish castle.” My friend paused and threw me a wink. “I mean for love.”
She left her chair. Then, almost at the door, she stopped. “Oh! I meant to say. James, the guy who gave me the note?”
My ears pricked up. I’d been dying to find out what was in that letter.
“We’ve been talking about…stuff, and he asked if I would come with you on your next visit. To see him.”
“Right! Callum sent a message earlier this morning that alluded to you coming. Now it makes sense.” Every time my phone vibrated, my heart sang, because we’d been texting every day.
And every day he sent another teaser for the weekend.
A photo of a magnificent red stag on a hill line.
One of Callum in an apron, cooking, though sadly fully dressed.
Even a video from his younger brothers, begging me to save them from his miserable face. I adored every message.
“He asked if I wanted to bring you. I thought he meant for moral support.” It would be nice, having Beth there. Callum was surrounded by family, and I wouldn’t feel so much like the outsider.
“It’s a big place?” Beth asked. “They’d have space for me?”
“It’s a castle. You’re not going to be putting someone out of their bed.”
“Chance would be a fine thing,” she muttered. “I can come. But not for three days. Maybe a day and a night? But then I’ll need to get back to work.” My friend paused, her finger at her lip. “If you go, and you really like this Callum after the weekend, what then?”
What indeed. I needed to define that line clearly as my integrity was at stake.
“I’ll make that decision before I go.”
Mom and Scarlet were already seated at Marylebone’s Blue Rose restaurant when I arrived from the train station. My sister leapt to her feet and hugged me, not letting go until I nearly fell into the chair next to hers.
“Dad’s joining us for lunch,” she said, her kohl-lined eyes widening and her tone a warning.
“Oh?” My appetite evaporated, and I leaned over and gave my mother a polite one-sided hug. “That’s unexpected.”
Handling Dad wasn’t on my agenda. During my train journey, I’d been preoccupied thinking about Callum, alongside working on the proposal for him, researching catering companies in Inverness and looking into other costs.
I’d spent every bit of my spare time this week on the wedding topic, and it was a no-brainer.
Similar venues in the area were booked out for two years in advance, and I knew with clever marketing I could get Castle McRae into the high-end market. He’d already had happy customers—the two couples who’d married there had posted some great photos online. We could use them as testimonials.
But there was a list of changes he’d need to consider first, potentially expensive ones if there was money to invest, and I’d only had a small glimpse of what he had to offer.
My fingers itched to get back to my laptop and continue work. Lunch with Mom and my sister would’ve given me an outlet to talk some of it through. Except now, I’d have to sit through a meal with my whole family. My plan fell to pieces.