7. Madison
MADISON
After dragging myself back inside past a smirking Alistair, I marched up to the guest room, damp and shivering.
He turned up a moment later to light the fireplace, but I was too cold and mortified to do anything but mutter, “Thanks.” He disappeared with a knowing look, and that irritated me even more.
Not only had he been right about walking into town, but now he’d swooped in to rub salt in the wound with a billowing blaze.
I scowled at Princess as she settled on the carpet in front of the fireplace. “Traitor.”
She yipped at me, tilting her head toward the fire.
“Puh-lease, girl. One semi-nice thing doesn’t make up for his horrible attitude.” She rolled onto her back, paws batting the air. “Don’t forget the part where he was doubled over laughing at us.”
She yipped again.
“Okay, laughing at me.” I swapped my clothes, then plopped down in the wingback chair next to the fire, begrudgingly enjoying the warmth and the cozy atmosphere it created. When my stomach growled, I knew I’d avoided him as long as I could. “Shall we venture down and scavenge for dinner?”
Princess popped up as I dug one of her meals from my duffle bag, trotting at my heels all the way downstairs. Alistair and Kenna were already in the kitchen.
“Daddy,” Kenna said, lips pursed. “You said we were having a fancy Christmas dinner.”
“That was when we were going to be at Uncle Weston’s, sweetheart.” He opened and closed empty cupboards in a mildly concerning fashion. “We can’t go there because of the snow, remember?”
Kenna’s disappointment shifted as soon as Princess bounded over to her stool.
“Fancy some boxed cheese pasta for dinner?” Alistair said, spotting me.
“Works for me,” I said with a shrug. “But I don’t understand how a place like this is running low on food.” I crossed the kitchen, stopping at his elbow, staring up at the meager supplies. “Why didn’t you have your housekeeper stock up before the storm?”
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” he admitted. “So I didn’t ask Florence to do any extra shopping.”
“You’re utilizing this big medieval fortress in all the wrong ways,” I told him. “You’re supposed to have a larder stocked with things like glazed ham and stuffed pheasant.”
“I suppose I’m to have raised the sow and shot the pheasant myself?”
“Well, if you want to get technical,” I said.
The corner of his mouth twitched. For a beat, it almost felt like we were sharing a moment.
Then I remembered his unhelpful asides and laughter earlier, getting annoyed all over.
I whirled around to open the fridge. “Guess we’re going to have to get creative. ”
Between the french toast breakfast and grilled cheese lunch, we’d absolutely decimated the bread, though I wasn’t above eating peanut butter out of a jar. Did he even have that? Doubtful. Of course I’d snuck into the one castle without snacks.
“I want what Princess is having,” Kenna said as I plopped her food into a small dish.
I threw my head back and laughed. “You definitely do not.”
“We’re not that bad off yet,” Alistair said.
Hoooonnnnkkkkk!
“What’s that?” Kenna asked. Princess darted out of the kitchen to the front door. Kenna climbed off her stool, rushing off in hot pursuit.
“Is that from outside?” I asked, turning after them.
Alistair fell in step next to me. “It sounds awfully close. Is it Lyle?”
“He hasn’t messaged to say anything about coming out today. He did agree to give me a ride into town when he came to tow my van, but I assumed it would be tomorrow at the earliest.”
We made our way down the hall. Kenna was already pulling the door open as we arrived.
“Uncle Locke!” she bellowed, launching herself at a man in a thick navy coat.
His tousled hair fell across his forehead in waves.
He had a close-cut beard, eyes that looked gray in the light, and a bright smile that he flashed in Kenna’s direction.
“Get in, get in,” he said, ushering her back inside. “It’s freezing out here.”
Kenna danced at his side, spying into the bags he carried. “Presents?”
Alistair grinned in a way I didn’t think he was capable of. “What’s all this?”
“Weston mentioned you were short on supplies.” The man set the bags down.
“So I come bearing gifts. Er, well, gifts of the edible variety—Agnes’s Christmas dinner and some groceries.
The actual presents are still at Lochbrae.
” He winked at Kenna. “You’ll have to wait for those.
I’m not going back there until this mess melts because Weston’s just going to hand me a shovel again. ”
Alistair laughed. Loud and carefree. He was doubly handsome when he smiled like that.
The visitor turned in my direction. “You’re the doggy door guest, huh?” He held his hand out for me to shake. “Locke.”
“That’s trespasser according to Alistair,” I said. “I’m Madison. Nice to meet you.”
“Jelly!” Kenna cheered, pulling out a container from one of the bags.
Alistair took it from her. “You need to eat something other than mushed cranberries, sweetheart.”
“Why?” she asked, leading him into a kid-friendly explanation of how nutrition worked that I got the feeling he’d made multiple times before.
But there wasn’t a hint of impatience in his manner.
Whatever jerk he might be to me, I had to admit he was a good dad.
It was downright sweet to see how seriously he took her every question and concern.
Growing up, my questions tended to get brushed off with a “Not now, honey,” at best.
“Where’s Auntie Isla?” Kenna asked, tugging on Locke.
“She’s at the inn now,” he said. “She wanted to see you, but growing a baby makes her very sleepy. After we made it back from Uncle Weston’s, she decided to take a nap.”
“I took a nap too,” Kenna said. I chuckled at her little nod of solidarity. “Now I’m hungry.”
“Well, what are we faffing about for? Let’s get this to the kitchen,” Locke said.
We all pitched in, grabbing bags. Kenna took her jelly back from Alistair, escorted by Princess, who’d become very obedient now that there was actual food on the line.
“I don’t know how you made it all the way out here,” Alistair said to Locke. “The roads are terrible. Madison went out to confirm that earlier.”
I glared at him from the corner of my eye.
Locke nudged him. “You’ve gotta get yourself one of those sweet Range Rovers with four-wheel drive if you’re going to live out here. That dinky grandpa van isn’t going to cut it.”
“It’s not a grandpa van,” Alistair muttered. “It’s a bloody Lexus.”
“It’s all wrong for Braeburn. Isla’s little junker would probably fare better.” He plopped his bags on the island, unpacking loaded containers. “Though the roads in town are slightly better. Sir Grits-A-Lot has already been through.”
“Who now?” Alistair’s eyebrows were all puckered in a way that was almost cute.
It was Locke’s turn to throw his head back and laugh.
“That’s the name of one of the gritters.
Whenever they introduce a new vehicle, they hold an online contest to name it, and that’s what the good folks of Braeburn voted on.
The driver has it all decked out in holiday lights, and there’s a bright-red blinking light on the front and reindeer antlers on top. ”
“Like Rudolph?” Kenna chimed in.
“Exactly like Rudolph,” Locke said.
“That’s definitely not a London thing,” Alistair said, glancing down at the spread. “I see Agnes didn’t hold back.”
“She absolutely outdid herself.” Locke glanced at me. “Agnes is Weston’s housekeeper,” he explained. “She’s a goddess in the kitchen and has been keeping my fiancée’s pregnancy cravings in check with her cheese scones.”
“So basically eligible for sainthood then?” I said.
He laughed. “One hundred percent.” Then he gestured to the food. “Don’t hold back on my account. Eat. Then you can tell me what you’ve been up to today.”
While we dished up plates of food—I made a note to personally thank Agnes before I left town—Kenna babbled about opening presents and playing in the snow with Princess. I was featured heavily, and flatteringly, in her rendition of events, and it warmed my chest.
But the most surprising part of it was Alistair. He might have it out for every stranger in a fifty-mile radius, but Locke’s presence had clearly relaxed him. There wasn’t a scowl in sight!
“What brought you to Braeburn in the first place?” Locke asked, and I realized the conversation had turned in my direction.
I finished my mouthful. “You mean besides the desire to crawl through the dog door of a castle?” He laughed.
“It actually wasn’t part of my plan. I was trying to reach Aberdeen coming down from Glenby, but I was using that Voyages app, and it gave me horrible directions.
It didn’t tell me I’d need a military-grade tank to navigate these roads. ”
Locke burst out laughing. It was so loud I almost dropped my fork.
“It’s not the app’s fault you didn’t check the weather report before getting on the road,” Alistair muttered.
“I was tracking the weather,” I said. “At least, as best I could. There’s terrible signal out here.”
Alistair crossed his arms. “The heavy snowfall should have been a clue to turn around.”
“The app should have warned me not to use these roads when the weather is poor!”
“It probably did warn you,” Alistair quipped.
“And how would I know without a signal?” I shot back. With my signal going in and out, I had mostly been following the offline map I’d downloaded before getting on the road.
Locke was trembling with laughter, wiping at his eyes. I had no idea what was so funny or why Alistair was taking everything so personally. I stared between them, confusion building.
“He’s the founder,” Locke finally wheezed, catching his breath. He pointed at Alistair. “Voyages is his.”
For a moment, the words didn’t register.
I stared at Alistair, the thoughts in my head itching like they were trying to connect. There was something hovering just out of reach. Something big.