Chapter 10 Graeme
Chapter 10 Graeme
I couldn’t say no.
It was too good an offer.
Maybe.
But as I stood inside the drawing room wearing butler’s livery and waiting for my first “assignment” as a play actor in this
insane world Lennox had concocted, the cost felt much greater than the payment. I resisted the urge to tug at my bow tie again.
When was the last time I wore something so useless? And I’d never worn tails. Or braces to hold up my trousers.
If I could just keep this annoying agreement from Calum, perhaps I’d retain a little dignity. He’d never let me live it down.
And Peter would have shared the news with the whole island. The youngest MacKerrow never failed to talk, often, to everyone.
But the price Lennox offered was impossible to ignore. It promised quicker improvements and a faster opportunity to turn this
house into a MacKerrow venue, not an Edwardian Experience.
I released a sigh to the ceiling and wished for pockets in this monkey suit.
Keep the future of Craighill in mind, mate. That’s what must be done.
Right. Craighill.
My ancestral home was worth every inch of me looking like a puffin.
At least the view encouraged my mindset too.
The large drawing room featured oversize dentil crown molding with similarly framed windows and entryways. Fresh white paint for the trim and a deep blue for the walls brought out the oak grains of the wood floor and mantelpiece. Thankfully, one of the rooms was fit to showcase.
Large windows allowed light and views from two walls, and with all the furniture removed, the space offered plenty of space
for Lennox’s next assignment.
Dance lessons.
I heaved a sigh and slipped a finger beneath the starched collar of the button-down. At least I wouldn’t have to dance. I’d
only been brought on to play the part of butler and ensure the footmen did their work. Two things, despite my dislike of the
scheme, I could do.
Voices neared from the hallway, so I straightened my spine, braced my emotions, and calmed my expression to neutral. Somewhat.
Though my lips kept tugging downward into a frown. Because this was the most dunderheaded thing I’d ever done in all my life.
Lennox entered on the arm of her husband first. I didn’t have anything against her husband, except the fact he gave in to
all of Lennox’s wishes, and now I was standing in a uniform pretending to be a hundred-year-old butler. A man I’d not seen
before walked in behind the couple, alone. Their daughter, Ana, entered on the arm of the mustached gentleman from earlier.
The one who’d offered to help. What had Lennox called him? Wake?
A younger man, not the eejit, followed along with a petite, brown haired woman with glasses. I tried to press myself as far
back into the wall as possible. Most of the people in the room had no idea who I was. I’d remained invisible to them as the
best “Edwardian” servant, moving around the house making repairs without notice.
Besides the Lennoxes, one other person saw me a little too well for my liking.
And she had the deluded idea I was some sort of hero.
The odd thing was, maybe I didn’t mind her thinking so about me.
Katie appeared in the entryway of the room, camera against her face, but her clothes looked very different from what she’d
worn earlier in the day. Gone was the ill-fitting frock with its high neck and short sleeves. Now she stood in a gown of pale
blue, cinched tight at the waist with a ribbon and so open at the neckline, it gave a keek of her shoulders. The skirt fell
loose and full to the ground. The fit highlighted the hourglass curves of her body.
Bonnie.
Hadn’t Lennox mentioned the packages I’d delivered from the door belonged to Katie? Could they have been dresses?
I’d been the one to help her look like that? Lord, help me!
I gave another tug to my collar. I’d had a hard enough time trying to get the vision of her after the loch out of my mind,
and here she came like some sort of faerie from the glen with all her hair twisted up and showing off the slender line of
her neck. A dainty silver band, like a crown, decorated her hair and gave her an even more fae-like appearance.
I looked away and slid to the left, somewhat behind a rather impressive plant Mrs. Lennox brought for the charade. It was
ridiculous to imagine I’d actually be able to hide in the middle of this roomful of people since I was the tallest person
in the place. Hiding never worked out for me.
Katie lowered the camera and scanned the room, my somewhat hidden spot offering me a view of her face before she crossed the
threshold. She pressed a palm to her stomach, smile absent, and expression... lost.
I shouldn’t want to know what was happening behind those eyes.
I shook my head at my idiocy. I was a right muckle gowk, I was.
And then, as soon as someone called her name, her face shifted into a smile that didn’t reach those eyes of hers. I’d seen the authentic one on the walk to Craighill from Glenkirk—watched it bloom all across her face like the wild orchids of summer.
I pinched my eyes closed. Dinnae be so glaikit, Graeme. Keep yourself to yourself. ’Tis the safer place to be.
“I’m glad everyone is here,” Lennox announced as the group gathered around her. “This afternoon we will enjoy our first Edwardian
dancing lesson. I thought we could work up an appetite before dinner.” The woman gave a muffled chuckle and preened like a
peregrine falcon, her gray gown suiting the analogy.
Well, at least all I’d have to do is stand like a block of wood against the wall while everyone made a spectacle out of themselves
on the floor in front of me. Except Katie. And watching her dance in that dress might not be so bad.
But I didnae have to admit it aloud.
“Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Lane Craig, who has come from Tobermory to teach us our first dance. I thought that since
we are in Scotland, we should learn one of the classic Scottish dances for our first lesson. Mr. Craig?”
They were dancing a cèilidh? Perhaps I didn’t want to watch them mutilate a dance from my heritage, even if Katie would be
worth watching.
The round middle-aged man, Mr. Craig, boasted a brown mustache as manicured as his matching hair. The impeccable suit he wore
somehow made him more compact. For a wee man, his smile took up a surprising portion of his face. In fact, with a mop of hair,
his mustache, and that smile, he barely had any other recognizable facial features at all.
“Today I plan to teach you one of the simplest and oldest Scottish dances we have. The Gay Gordons. It’s a cèilidh dance,
which means it’s a wee bit more relaxed, works wonderfully with pairs, and can encourage some simple flirting betwixt the
couples.” He wiggled his brows. “If such romanticizing is to your liking, of course.”
I rolled my eyes. Latherin’ it on, aren’t you, Craig?
Lennox’s daughter, Ana, released a teeth-grating giggle, which only encouraged Mr. Craig’s smile to expand so wide, his eyes
disappeared.
Ah! A performer, he was.
“Now The Gay Gordons works well for any number of couples, but its simple steps are a good way to start your education on
cèilidh and country dances.”
I glanced around the room. And a good set of pairs to start too. Small number. Four men. Four women. I’d give Craig a point
for his planning on that score.
“So let’s see the couples.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall as Mr. and Mrs. Lennox stepped forward, followed by Wake and Ana, then
the other couple I’d seen enter the room. And there stood Katie, still near the threshold as if she wanted to make a quick
escape.
“Oh look!” She waved toward the couples, her smile too bright. “I get to watch and learn. I like this plan.”
“No, no, Miss Campbell.” Lennox stepped forward. “It’s unfortunate Mr. Page sprained his ankle on the way back from the village,
or the two of you could have stepped out together.”
Mr. Page? My frown deepened. The eejit.
Katie’s expression complied with my thoughts too. Smart lass.
“He shouldn’t have attempted to scale the rocks when you clearly told him not to, my dear.” This from Mr. Lennox. “He seemed
determined to engage in some nonsense.”
“I videoed the whole thing,” Ana said, raising her hand with another giggle. “He wanted something funny to add to his reels,
or so he said. Something daring. But I don’t think he intended on it leaving him nursing a wound for the evening.”
“Not to worry.” Mr. Craig offered his hand. “A substitute is quite ready and willing to join you, Miss Campbell.”
I stifled my chuckle. Katie would stand a whole head and shoulders above the man. Watching him spin her should be humorous indeed.
Katie reluctantly stepped forward and took Craig’s outstretched hand, her lips pinched as if she were holding her own laugh
in check. My grin stretched a little wider.
Until... Mr. Craig started moving in my direction with Katie at his side.
Recognition dawned on her face, and her eyes grew as wide as mine must have been.
“Mr. MacKerrow has not only agreed to take on the temporary part of butler but also as dance partner when needed.”
I looked over at Craig as if he spoke a different language. Wait. I had! But I didn’t actually expect to have to follow through,
and certainly not with Katie Campbell.
“The two of you will fit best with height.”
As if that made everything tidy!
Heat rose beneath my too-tight collar, underneath my beard, and into my cheeks, as my rebel eyes took another gander at Katie’s
full height. I didn’t need to hold her again to know just how well her stature complemented mine.
And the acknowledgment raised the heat in my face to scorching.
My mum would die of delight at this moment. Calum would die of laughter.
I wanted to die. Plain and simple. And perhaps I would if the heat in my face kept rising into dangerous territory.
My attention shot to Lennox, who sent me a you promised look, and with a deep breath, I braced myself for the inevitable battle. No, not battle. Katie wasn’t my enemy, but this
attraction warring in my chest certainly was.
And then Craig nodded and turned back to the room, as if Katie and I knew exactly what to do next. Well, she probably had a better hold on her emotions than I did. In fact, her slack-jawed expression gave off every indication that I was the last person she wanted to dance with.
“Butler now, huh?” Her lips trembled into a smile.
“It seems so.”
“A carpenter-butler.” She nodded as her gaze trailed down and back up. “Well, I have to say that the look isn’t hurting you
at all.”
I tilted my head as comprehension dawned. Had she just given me a compliment? And why did I like it so much?
“It’s temporary,” I added, attempting to keep my expression neutral. Very butler-like.
“Though, you must admit the occupation ‘dancing butler’ does have a nice ring to it.”
A twinkle lit her eyes, and I, begrudgingly, lost my war with my smile. “Not if it’s about me.”
“Not heroic enough–sounding for you?”
A burst of a laugh proved I’d lost all control of my emotions. “If a dancing butler is your definition of heroic, you’re not
watching the right movies or reading the right books.”
Her grin brightened her whole face, and something in my chest expanded along with it. “True. I’ve never read a book or watched
a movie about a heroic dancing butler.”
I cringed at the phrase, and her laugh bubbled out in a strange intoxicating sort of way that snared my attention. I wanted
to hear it again.
And the desire just annoyed me all the more, because first, I wasn’t a dancing butler. Second, I wasn’t about to fancy some
American travel writer. And third, I wasn’t a fan of trouble.
“To the center of the room, everyone.” Craig waved to the group like a conductor attempting to rein in some unruly instrumentalists.
“Let’s create a circle of pairs.”
My feet made reluctant steps to the assigned spot as Katie’s honeysuckle scent followed alongside me. Craig gave a brief overview of the movements in the Gay Gordons and then pushed a button on his phone for the familiar music to begin. I started the steps, the one dance I’d known since a lad. And without much redirection, Katie kept to my side, following along with my movements.
Hmm... She’d done something like this before, I’d wager.
“Yes, everyone. Follow Mr. MacKerrow and Miss Campbell’s lead. Taller partner on the left. Aye. Your other left, Miss Lennox.”
A snort-like puff sounded to my right, and Katie sent me a look from her periphery that caused me to go to war with my smile
all over again. Blasted woman!
“Miss Dupont, do allow Mr. Logan to lead.”
At this, Katie let out another little snort. “We’ve got quite the winning group here, Mr. MacKerrow. Aren’t you glad you joined?”
It was impossible not to smile back at her. Why did her humor have to be so appealing?
Because she wore it as well as that dress.
“Now, men, bring your right hand over the head and shoulders of the lady and take hold of her right hand.” Craig raised his chin, examining the results as I went on to the next step and reached for Katie’s left hand
with mine to link across the front of our bodies. The action drew us side by side, near enough that I could breathe in her
scent of honeysuckle and sea, a tantalizing and wild combination I’d never imagined on a woman. For some reason, it matched
her. The wild hair, the soft warm skin, the stormy blue of those eyes.
And just when I was about to take the boke at my disgusting thoughts, her long, strong fingers gripped mine in a sturdy hold,
the scent of honeysuckle and sea distracting me once again.
“Now, if you can count to four, you can learn the Gay Gordons,” Craig announced. “But we’ll start you off easy. You take three
steps forward and on the fourth step you turn ’round. Let’s try it then.”
Katie and I moved forward and, with me giving only a bit of guidance, made the turn rather effortlessly and proceeded on to the next four steps, which were backward.
“After you complete the four steps forward and four steps backward two times, the men will give their lasses a spin for four
beats.”
Katie took my cues as I guided her away from me and she spun, her smile growing with each rotation, and then Craig called
out, “Now, take a ballroom hold with your partner and do a polka for the other four beats, or if you don’t know a polka, it
just means spinning together in a wee circle.”
It was like she was made to dance with me. Either that or she’d danced the Gay Gordons before, but from the way she watched
me and anticipated my moves, I didn’t think so. When her gaze met mine after the polka, my smile slipped much too wide for
my liking.
Which I blamed wholly on her.
Because her cheeks were rosy, her eyes gleaming, and her breaths pulsed out from the exertion, and all I wanted to do was
pull her closer the next round.
“Aye.” Craig beamed at us. “You ken the steps, Mr. MacKerrow.” Craig looked at the other couples who were in various states
of entanglement. “Mr. MacKerrow and Miss Campbell are going to show you how it’s done in a full rotation.”
So, with all eyes on us, we went through the steps again, this time with even more ease than before, as Craig offered suggestions
for modifications within the dance to give it more variety.
After some more guidance with the other couples and Ana Lennox nearly debilitating Wake’s foot, Craig restarted the song and
encouraged everyone to keep going through the rotation for its entirety.
“Does being a new butler here have anything to do with the rumor that a local MacKerrow family owns this place?”
I blinked at her question. It wasn’t a secret, but I supposed I hadn’t expected guests to know. “I’d prefer to keep with my tradesman position, but desperate times...”
She searched my face. “So your family does own Craighill?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t interested in becoming a story splashed across the internet. “Does it matter?”
“Well, I certainly hope it matters to you. I just can’t understand why you’d rent it to the Lennoxes.” She leaned closer,
dropping her voice to a whisper. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem the type of guy who is into theatrics, stuffed
ostriches, and hobble skirts. Though”—her gaze dropped to my feet—“your dancing skills are pretty nice, so you could be a
closet thespian.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, attempting to quell my rebel lips from turning upward. “I repeat, desperate times, Miss Campbell.”
The resident twinkle resurfaced in those eyes. “Did you just wake up one day and say, ‘Oh, I think I’ll buy a manor house’?”
I searched her face, her expression offering simple curiosity, so I hedged forward into trusting her a little more. “It’s
our family’s estate that was sold away at the turn of the last century, over a hundred years ago. We only purchased it back
little more than a year ago.”
“So it is your family’s.” She shook her head and glanced around the room. “You must have been pretty desperate to take on this Edwardian
Experience in your family home then.”
“It takes a great deal of money to make necessary renovations.”
Her eyes widened. “And the Lennoxes are helping you do that. Smart. Good plan.” She nodded and then tilted her head to stare
back up at me. “Then what?”
“We’ll see.” I raised my brow but refused to elaborate.
She took the hint with a little raised brow of her own. “Fine. But this place would make an amazing wedding venue. Or hotel.”
As if she’d read my plans in my head.
She was a tricky one. And I was a fool for making eye contact again.
“So, is being a butler, woodworker, country house owner, and hero the full extent of your occupation, or do you teach dancing on the side too?”
Losh! The woman and her teasing! “This is a common dance, so I’ve known it my whole life.” I gestured with my chin toward
her feet. “But you’re dancin’ it fairly easily.”
She shrugged a shoulder before I turned her in a spin, a rebel strand of her hair slipping loose from the pins and trailing
down her back. When I brought her into my arms for the paired spin, she answered through puffs of breath. “I try to learn
dances in any of the countries I visit, and this one is similar to one I learned in England.”
The idea of traveling to enough countries to say “any” sounded tiring. “How many places have you traveled?” What a daft question.
“More than I can count.”
We moved back into side-by-side steps. “I s’pose you have favorites?”
“A few.” Her grin peaked as we walked backward. “Iceland is breathtaking. Italy is spectacular, and all that yummy food probably
helps. Spain, Costa Rica, France.”
She must have noticed my frown, because she laughed as I took her into a spin. “Not a fan of France?”
“Old habit.” I shrugged off the way her grin inspired mine.
“New Zealand was definitely near the top.” She leaned in as I pulled her back into my arms, her voice dropping. “Don’t tell
anyone, but I feel as though in another life I could have been a hobbit.”
A laugh burst out of me as I took in her full height. “I dinnae know if your profession inhibits you from such a choice, not
to mention your height. Hobbits are regularly prone toward adventure.”
“Shhh!” She shot me a mock-warning look. “Don’t blow my cover. I make a living off of helping others see the world when they can’t get there themselves, remember? But there is a temptation toward the simple and sweet, in a homey sort of way.” She wiggled her brows. “Maybe I’m more like Bilbo, where I want the best of both— truly fictional.”
When she shone her job in that light, it changed the hue of my presumptions a bit. Helping others see the world? I couldn’t
stop my curiosity. “If you’re prone to home, hearth, and pipe, why travel like you do?”
I sent her into another twirl, and she returned to my arms, her gaze not meeting mine. “It started as chasing stories and
then turned into a real career.”
“And you want to keep chasing stories?”
“I love stories.” Not quite an answer, but she flashed me a smile. “But a pipe now and then? Now that’s a real draw.”
Her pun took two seconds to register and shouldn’t have made me grin like a bampot. “You think you’re witty, do ye?”
“Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.” She wiggled her brows as I turned her into another spin, and this time when I drew
her back into my arms, I brought her a little closer.
“You quote Shakespeare to me?”
“You called me on a quote?” Her eyes widened with new appreciation, tempting my bathersome smile again. “Surprising.”
My grin fell along with my chest. “Surprising?”
“I mean, you seem too grumpy to like Shakespeare.”
This time my brows rose but the tilt in her lips gave her teasing away. “You’re having a bit of banter with me, are ye?”
“If we’re going to be stuck together in a dance, it’s certainly more enjoyable to talk than silently suffer, don’t you think?”
She shrugged a shoulder as I sent her into a turn. “Besides, if you’ve been roped into playing the butler, the least I can
do is offer some teasing as compensation. This conversation has been one of the most normal and delightful ones I’ve had in
this house so far.”
“Has it now?” The declaration shouldn’t have brought me so much pleasure, but it did. Only partly because I reciprocated the delight. Which I shouldn’t have. Because encouraging this attraction was a certain disaster.
Instead of answering, her gaze dropped as we came back together for a polka. “What type of flower is pinned on your lapel?”
I followed Katie’s gaze to my chest, the purple blossom striking against my black jacket. “Heather.”
“Heather.” She sighed. “Oh, I’ve heard about it my whole life, but no description can quite capture that scent, can it? Honey
and... earth?”
Something in the way she looked up at me, in her appreciation for something so wholly Scottish, squeezed in my lungs. It’s
the only excuse I had for my next response. “Since you like stories, have you heard the legend of heather?”
“I try not to read too much into the places I visit beforehand so that I’m as surprised and awed as my readers, so no.”
“So you know nothing about Scotland.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know basic things, plus my grandfather was a first-generation Scottish American, and he bragged about
his parents’ home country until the day he died, so I’ve always felt a little connection to it.” Her expression turned thoughtful.
“I just didn’t expect to feel... I don’t know.” She shook her head and squeezed my hand, grin resurrecting. “But I’d love
to hear the legend.”
I pulled my attention away from the way she tilted her head back a little as I spun her around, the sheer freedom in her movements
almost mesmerizing. I faulted her Scottish heritage, for certain. She probably came from the faerie line.
“Very well.” I cleared my throat and then drew in a breath for dramatic effect. “Legend has it—”
“Legend has it?” Both her brows rose as she laughed. “You’re really playing into the Scottish heritage, aren’t you?”
“Oh, aye!” I welcomed her back into my arms. Her breath caught as I closed in, a fascinating rush of rose blushing over her cheeks and matching those lips. Och aye, those lips. I’d paid them little mind until now but couldn’t seem to look away fast enough. “Leave it to the Scots to put a better shine on a story than one you’ve heard before, lass.”
The words rasped out of me, so low I thought she mightn’t have heard, but she had. Her gaze softened at the phrase.
My mouth went dry.
It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t be happening, but I wanted to kiss the troublesome woman.
And what was worse, from the way she settled so closely in my arms and glanced down at my mouth, she wanted me to kiss her
too.
We were both mental!
A screech broke the spell between her lips and my brain and brought my feet to a stop as a massive parrot flew into the room.
Och! The parrot!
Someone gasped. Another person cried out, but the blasted creature seemed to know exactly what it was doing. With precision,
it flew directly to Katie and plucked the silver headband from her hair, leaving those fiery curls in a tangle over her head.
Katie’s jaw dropped, and she looked from me to follow the trail of the bird. It took a flight about the room in time with
the music, as if showing off its prize, and then, with another screech to mock us all, it flew back out the way it had come.
Ana screamed, a few seconds too late. The younger man with the brown-haired woman dropped down into the only chair in the
room, as if the incident exhausted him.
“Robert!” Lennox swatted at her husband’s hand and gestured toward the doorway. “Fetch that hairband. Merlin has stolen it.”
Dazed Robert Lennox, with an equally befuddled Craig at his side, blinked a few times in response.
“I should shoot the bird myself,” Lennox muttered under her breath in a very un-Lennox sort of way and marched past them.
“Do something with your bird, Robert.”
The room fell silent, and then a strange sound erupted from the woman at my side.
A cry? I braced myself as I turned. Katie’s hair stuck out in various directions from the parrot’s removal of the hairband,
and her eyes were still wide, but then she broke out into... laughter.
“She’s gone mad,” Ana whispered, shaking her head in consolation. “Of course, if Merlin had stolen my tiara, I wouldn’t have
taken it well either.”
Katie’s laughter grew and she wiped at her eyes. “The parrot in the drawing room with a hairband.”
“What?”
“Come on.” She gave a tug to my arm. “You’re the butler. Surely you can help rescue my hairband.”
With that, she dashed off out of the room.
And being the numpty I was, I followed.