Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Once, her mother had insisted upon a visit to the new modiste in Town. And she had been pinned and poked and measured. And because she had been so tall, her mother and modiste complained about her height and her proportions while she stood still and remained quiet, as expected.

As they prepared her for her wedding trousseau.

It was incredibly warm in the shop, and her boots were new so they pinched her feet, and she remembered how her stomach soured as her mother spoke about her as if she weren’t there.

As if she were about to be a prize to win on the London marriage mart.

This morning, she awoke with her head pounding and her stomach topsy-turvy… and a very large dog sleeping beside her.

Kate bolted upright, the panic almost a temporary cure for the nausea that rolled over her. She slammed her eyes shut and softly reclined back into bed, wishing to hide beneath the covers.

Except she wasn’t in her room.

She rubbed her cheek against the soft linen pillowcase, frustrated that she could smell Gabriel. No, dreading that she could because she was still dressed, and he wasn’t there beside her, but she couldn’t remember what happened fully last night.

Only that Elsie had arrived, and they had decided to test the whisky stashed in the crates that Gabriel had left by the table in the great hall—after Elsie had whisked in and saw the girls off to bed with no trouble.

“Oscar, I am the world’s largest idiot.”

She wiped at her eyes, then rolled over to the sleeping dog beside her.

“Whatever you do, it may be best if you are not involved with my decision making. Apparently, I am not to be trusted.”

It wasn’t only feeling horrible that gnawed at her now. It was shame.

Filtered sunlight danced through the curtains as a soft, chilly breeze blew in. That was probably for the best as she was certain she smelled. She could taste the sick in her dry mouth.

“I’ve mucked it up now.” Kate flopped back into the pillow and covered her eyes with the back of her arm and waited for the bed to stop moving or her head to stop feeling as if it were being squeezed in a vice.

“Mucked what up?”

Drat.

“I will pack my things,” she said, still hiding behind her arm. “And I will say my goodbyes and leave. I apologize for my behavior.”

“Kate?”

She loved her name on his lips. She would miss hearing it. And she would miss kissing the man, but since he had hidden away after that night in the kitchen, he must not have felt the same.

“I dinna wish for ye to leave.”

“You are a lot of things, Gabriel, but ridiculous isn’t one of them.”

She was surprised by the sound of his warm snicker. If only he had allowed her to know him, she was certain they would have been excellent friends. Instead, he was always rushing about as if he were running out of time, and she was stuck standing still, desperately trying to find a place in the world that could be her own now that she had lost everything.

But he had seen her.

And she enjoyed that kiss. She had dreamed of it, in fact, until she hated him for disappearing.

And now she supposed he hated her for her horrible behavior and lack of decorum.

Wait…

She propped herself up on her elbows, finally seeking out the source of his voice, only to catch him buttoning up his shirt in the doorway of the adjoining dressing room.

“I can’t believe I have to ask this…” She swallowed, certain she would be sick. “Did I… I mean did you and I…” Kate waved her hand in the vast distance between them.

“Ye ruined my boots,” he grumbled, not turning around.

Which was probably for the best because she could admire his shoulders without any embarrassment. Wide shoulders and a trim, narrow waist. Dressed in clothes best worn in London or Paris, certainly not marching around repairing damaged distillery stills and staining wood floors.

“I ruined… oh .”

She inhaled, remembering now that she had cast up her accounts on him in her room. And she had been furious when he had interrupted her and Elsie. And he had carried her.

“I apologize about the boots. And for my behavior and lack of judgment.”

He neatly tucked his shirt into his trousers and spun around in the bright golden light of the morning. The man was made of gold, the way the sun hit his hair, the warm shine to his eyes, the way he pinned her there in his bed with his stare, as if he weren’t the most handsome man she had ever seen.

“Nothing happened. I brought ye down here and cleaned yer room. I slept there.” He pointed to the pillow and blankets on the floor.

She was half relieved. “You must think me… ”

“Kate, dress yerself and meet me at the stable block in fifteen minutes. I’ve a lot of work to do, and ye’re comin’ with me today.”

“What about the girls?”

“Elsie will mind after them.”

She traced her fingers over the embroidery of the navy coverlet. It was fine embroidery and fine fabric. And like Gabriel, it was full of hidden details. She glanced at the giant tapestry on the wall beside the window, overlooking the gardens and glen beyond.

“I chose to act as I did by myself, not influenced by your sister.”

He worried his bottom lip as a piece of hair fell down over his eyes, making him appear absolutely rakish. Which was ironic as there was nothing rakish about him. He was the opposite in every way. And she was certain if he hadn’t hated her before, he must now.

But she wouldn’t allow him to punish her either. London had done a neat enough job of that already.

He whistled for Oscar who sat up, glanced at Kate, then leapt off the bed, and trotted behind Gabriel as he left the room.

Twenty minutes later, Kate was dressed, her hair brushed, and donning the largest bonnet she could find as she strolled out to the stable block. She inhaled the cold air, hoping to settle her stomach. Nothing worked.

Not even while foolishly gazing at Gabriel as he mounted his horse and pointed toward the black mare beside him for her to do the same.

She swallowed and did as instructed, satisfied to see she hadn’t disappointed Gabriel.

“What are we doing today?” she asked. She glanced toward him, then out toward the empty gardener’s cottage and the crumbling stone stable.

Dunsmuir Castle must have been a sight to be seen when it was cared for and staffed. Underneath the rough, there were the ghosts of lush gardens and a great hall once filled with music and good cheer.

“One day,” he said as if reading her mind, “the castle will look as it did when I was a boy, and ye’ll see its magic.”

“I see it now. ”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward on his mount as he brushed a hand over the horse’s neck. “I ken, Kate. That’s why I want ye to stay.”