Chapter 5

The Daily Edge: Social Tattle from One Edge of Skymar to the Other

Could a duke become the awaited prince charming? The Edge has it on good authority that Princess Elliana was seen Friday night in New Inswythe with Christopher Montgomery, the Duke of Styles. Unfortunately, the princess didn't give our tattlers as much entertainment as she's shown in the past, but this photo reveals the two enjoying a private dinner. Could our princess shake up Spotless Styles's reputation? Perhaps bringing some "style" could boost his reputation with readers of The Edge, since the duke hasn't given us anything to talk about... ever. What are your thoughts about the possible match? Leave a comment online to join in the latest tattle!

Text from Penelope to Luke and Izzy:Luke! Izzy! Do you have time for a video call? I'm babysitting the twins and they've just gotten big enough to fit into their hobbit outfits!!

Izzy:Aww, I want to see!

Luke:Just send me a photo.

Penelope:A photo is not the same thing. They're making some of the cutest noises. Ember is so bald, I almost slipped and called her Smeagol in front of Josephine, but I'm afraid Josephine may never let me babysit them again if I do that. Besides, Ember laughs every time I say "my precious" and you can't hear that through a photo.

Luke:We can do a video chat next week.

Penelope:Is there a reason you can't right now? You met Izzy for lunch today, so you're not sick. It's too late in the evening for you to be working. Are you on a DATE????

Luke:I would not be texting you back if I were on a date.

Izzy:He's not going to video chat with you tonight, Penelope. He had a work accident and his left eye is swollen shut and purple.

Penelope:He went out to lunch with a swollen eye?

Luke:No, Izzy brought pizza over to the cabin. I didn't want to scare the small children of Crieff.

Penelope:It couldn't be worse than the permanent paint of the Spider-Man mask you had last year.

Izzy:Um... there is a distinct possibility it might.

Penelope:Oh my goodness, what happened to you, Luke??

Luke:I'd rather not talk about it.

Penelope:It has something to do with Grace Kelly, doesn't it? Did she hit you? That's not what I meant by forced proximity.

Luke:And I repeat, I'd rather not talk about it.

Penelope:So... is it a secret? *batting eyelashes*

Luke:Penny-girl, leave it alone.

Text from Ellie to Maeve:Will I never outrun my reputation?

Maeve:What is it now?

Ellie:Clarice Kershaw, the longtime headmistress of the orphanage, walked in on me and Luke at a less than ideal moment and proceeded to speak with me in private afterward about my conduct.

Maeve:What do you mean?

Ellie:She not so subtly reminded me of how my actions influence the impressionable children at the orphanage and she'd prefer any romantic liaisons remain clearly outside the orphanage. She also alluded to my past as being a less than stellar recommendation of my ability to maintain decorum.

Maeve:First off, Mrs.Cranky Kershaw doesn't know the princess you are NOW, so it's going to take some time to show her how you've changed and grown.

Maeve:But more importantly... what on earth do you mean by "less than ideal"? Is Luke the American? And if he's already kissing you, then he moves pretty fast.

Ellie:Kissing is not the point. And there was no kissing. He had a wound on his eye and I was applying ice to it. That's when she walked in.

Maeve:I feel as though kissing should always be some kind of point in a story.

Ellie:Maeve!

Maeve:El, you're going to have to keep choosing to do the right thing over and over again. It's much harder to climb out of a bad reputation than to sully a good one. So just keep choosing right and let all those right choices speak for themselves.

Maeve:And getting the right kind of kiss now and again is definitely a good choice in my book.

Ellie:You are no help at all!

Text from Rose to Ellie:Are our parents forcing the Duke of Styles upon you?

Ellie:Mother recommended him from their list of eligible suitors for me.

Rose:Ah, the list.

Ellie:He has an excellent reputation, which Mother feels will help clean up some of my messy past.

Rose:Marriage is not mercenary, Elliana.

Ellie:Depends on who you ask. Besides, I'm not attached to anyone, so they made a recommendation or two. It was only dinner. And their list worked wonderfully for Stellan. He's the perfect Crown Prince with the perfect wife. Even his sons are perfect.

Rose:You wouldn't say that if you've ever attempted to watch them.

Rose:As far as Christopher, it would be fine if you really liked him, but as your elder sister, I know you can't. He's very nice, but his personality is... well, does he even have one of his own?

Ellie:He's reserved.

Rose:Ah, perfect royal marriage material. The media is not your measuring stick. Take care, Elliana, that you do not continue to pay for a debt that has been forgiven. Despite all their expectations, our parents would never wish for that.

Ellie stared down at her phone, her sister, Rosalyn's, last text niggling deep into her heart. Simply accepting their forgiveness seemed too simple for all the trouble her mistakes had caused.

All the horrible press.

All the heartache.

The very least she could do was try to make things right. To take their suggestions into consideration.

She wasn't too certain she trusted her own ability to make the best choices anymore.

Especially about relationships.

When men discovered she was a royal, everything changed. And in her experience, not in a good way. She'd been such a fool to think any of them really cared for her.

They'd only wanted popularity or spotlight or whatever they could get by being associated with her. None of them had been genuine or honest. None truly saw her.

How could she have been so stupid?

She pressed a palm into her stomach, forcing the memories into submission. Years of therapy and thousands of prayers had brought her to the other side, and she would not go back.

No, it was time to turn her hopes and expectations to serving others. To embrace her royal life and duties. Love could grow in time as it had for some of her ancestors.

Her parents cared for her. They loved her through all the messiness and ramifications of her choices, so surely their recommendations held weight enough for her to push back any dreamy romantic notions and embrace solid good sense.

Luke Edgewood came to mind, unbidden. Perhaps it had been the word "solid," or maybe the phrase "good sense," for surely it had nothing to do with romantic notions. Something about his genuineness was so refreshing. He had no idea of her past or her pedigree. No kid gloves. No deference. Her lips tipped ever so slightly at the memory of the kitchen closet scene. He'd teased her. And brought out her laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed with a man.

Her fist pressed against her chest.

And she'd instantly felt safe near him. Safe enough to lower her guard, even for a few moments.

She rarely experienced such a feeling outside of her family.

Why?

She shook her head.

It didn't matter why. Even if she admitted to a modicum of attraction, he most certainly didn't fit on any royal list and didn't even live in Skymar. However, becoming the patron to the orphanage had been the right choice. And taking up her primary residence at Perth Hall had been the right choice. And choosing Luke to take the lead on the construction had been right as well. Those things she knew. And perhaps they would prove the beginning to a great many future choices in the right direction.

Because she desperately needed to trust herself again if she was ever going to take control of her own life, let alone prove a capable royal patron to the North Country.

She tugged her coat more closely around her and walked up the cobbled main street of Crieff. Staying in the country estate of Perth Hall gave a sense of separation from the demands of royal life and fewer opportunities for her flaws to be on display, but this secluded village offered a glimpse into an almost regular life. Though the storybook world of thatched roofs and quaint cottages likely proved as unique to "regular" life as castles and ballrooms.

Maybe finding the journal had resurrected all these thoughts of a simple life. From what Ellie could tell, Blair MacKee had been an orphan-turned-kitchen maid and she'd fallen in love with a nearby farmer named Gabriel. The journal told the tale of a simple and sweet love, from their initial meeting to the day she left service to marry him.

Love.

Like the fairy tales.

She shook her head and continued her walk toward a large building near the center of town. One of her favorites. Rudan Air Chall Antique Shop. The owners, an older couple, had owned the antique shop for decades and, like most family-owned businesses in Crieff, they passed it to the next generation.

A few newer shops had come into the village, like an ice cream shop, a fine clothing store, and several restaurants, but most other small businesses—especially if they didn't fit with the overall... atmosphere of Crieff—ended up relocating elsewhere.

Crieff was safe.

At the thought, she glanced behind her to find Cameron keeping an unhurried pace. She frowned. Well, at least he kept his distance, at her request. She'd had to compromise with her parents by agreeing to one person on security detail in public to be free to live and work in Crieff at her leisure. He was a good sort. Early forties, extremely serious, but reliable and strong.

And had been royal security for over a decade.

Which meant he knew this world.

And her history.

Rudan Air Chall welcomed her out of the cold afternoon air into a world of visual activity. Vintage chairs, hand-hewn tables, old-fashioned lanterns, picture frames, and myriad other unclaimed treasures cluttered up as much space as was possible... and still, by some miraculous feat, looked inviting.

The Frasiers at work. Or likely Nessa Frasier, the matriarch of the establishment. As if called from Ellie's thoughts, the woman emerged from the back of the shop behind a massive dresser, her white hair drawn back into a ponytail that defied her age.

But of course, Nessa seemed to have the energy of a younger woman too.

"Well, it's always a pleasure to have you visiting us, Your— Ellie," she corrected, as she always did when first meeting after a short sabbatical. "Gordon told me he'd heard you were back from New Inswythe. I hope your family is all well."

The twinkle in her eyes revealed her pleasure in their shared secret. How much of a secret it truly was, though, was debatable, since the entire town knew about it. "They are. Quite well. And your family?"

"Besides Gordon being a wee crabbit this morning, we're all right as rain. The grandweans are with us for the day and have cheered his heart." She winked. "Though you wouldn't know it to see him all dour-faced as usual, but he's quite keen on 'em."

"As any good grandda ought to be."

"Aye, and he preened like a parrot when Mr.Holton rang him yesterday about joining the renovation team at Cambric. He nearly laughed his delight."

"Gordon Frasier nearly laughed?" Ellie offered a mock look of shock. "And you didn't get a snap of it?"

Nessa's laughter filled the space. "It's a rarity for certain, but he's been without a large project for a few months, and this will set him to rights for a while." Nessa examined Ellie, her gray eyes soft. "Now, what will you be wanting this afternoon?"

The dips and curls of her thicker accent soothed Ellie's nerves and gently reminded her that in Crieff she wasn't under the microscope of the public. At least, not as much as usual.

"Only looking." She lowered her voice and drew closer to the woman. "Though my parents have given me leave to decorate Perth Hall to my own liking with the design of moving in by autumn."

"Well, I was hoping you'd make Crieff your permanent residence."

Nessa's welcome spread healing warmth through Ellie's chest. "It's proof they have more confidence in the future direction of my life and choices. And since one of my titles is Duchess of Mara and the North Country, it has been my hope to settle here so that I might be a part of the people whose lives I mean to serve."

"You're speaking very much like someone with the right perspective." Nessa brought her palms together and drew in a breath. "Well now, we have some new paintings in the back that Olivia found a few months ago at a charity sale, and as you know, my daughter has a keen eye for art. Come along and I'll give you a keek." She tossed a glance toward the front. "And tell Cam if he's going to stand at the window, he might as well come inside and have a spot of tea."

But when Ellie turned, Cam had already moved out of sight.

"I'll send Gordon to tease him inside once he's finished with a customer." Nessa waved a hand and then led the way, weaving among the lovely and... not-so-lovely conglomeration of antiques.

Just as they turned the corner into the next room, Ellie nearly ran headlong into a wall of flannel, big shoulders, and... logs?

She blinked the man into view only to find she'd come face-to-face with Luke Edgewood. She glanced down at his wood-laden arms and then back to his face.

"Luke?"

His eyes widened—well, partly. The wounded eye, with a bluish hue around it still, drooped just a bit. But it looked much better than it had three days before. "Ellie?"

"My, my," Nessa cooed. "I had no idea you two were acquainted."

"We're both working at the orphanage," Luke started.

"The project of which Gordon is a part," Ellie continued.

Nessa's gaze flickered from Ellie to Luke and back. "Well, how delightful. We've only just gotten acquainted with Luke but already feel he's going to be rather regular here, since he's keen on antiques too."

"Not so much the antique part as the well-made and less expensive part," he corrected. The way his deep brown eyes lit as he grinned over at Nessa held a mesmerizing sort of quality.

How strange.

Brown eyes weren't all that common in Skymar, so no wonder they'd prove a bit of a novelty.

"He's collecting items for the cabin he's renovating on Yarrow Fell."

"Yarrow Fell?" Ellie looked over at him. "That's a rather secluded spot in the mountains, isn't it?"

"Seems to be." Luke shrugged one shoulder, drawing her attention to the sturdy span from one arm to the other. A warm, strong shoulder she'd burrowed into when they shared a moment in the closet.

Heat shot into her face.

Shared a moment? No. When she overreacted—yes. That was all.

And thank heavens there were no paparazzi around to snap a photo of her sitting on his lap in the dark closet of an orphanage! Her throat tightened. And praise God for small favors that Mrs. Kershaw didn't show up then!

"Pete's a bit skittish about the distance to Crieff, but I like the quiet." Luke nodded, turning his attention back to Nessa. "And you can't beat a view like that every morning."

"Oh, I wouldn't wonder that it's one of the best in the North Country," Nessa said, shifting her focus between them again, one of her brows raised.

Ellie noted Nessa's humor-filled eyes and quickly gestured toward the wood in Luke's arms. "What have you found?"

He raised one of the pieces, its dark wood bearing intricate carvings of... children and animals? "I came in trying to scope out what I could purchase locally, things like furniture and light fixtures, but when Gordon figured out what I was doing at the cabin, he showed me his back room where he keeps unique wood and scrap pieces." He gestured to the wood. "Thought these would make nice frames for the signatures in the kitchen closet."

"What an excellent idea." Ellie stepped closer, slowly sliding her fingers across one of the pieces. "Mrs.Kershaw will love it, and it's perfect for celebrating Cambric's history."

"There's not enough of the carved pieces for the full wall, so I'll use these two for the top and bottom and put something simple on either side to complete the frame." He had such a pleasant smile. Kind. Gentle. "Seemed a good way to honor the past."

Her gaze caught in his, the mutual understanding palpable. "Indeed."

"I kinna wait to see the finished product, Luke." Nessa tapped one of the wood pieces. "And you've made Gordon's day. To have another craftsman to blether on with. He's keen to work with you at Cambric too. Does his heart good to find a like-minded sort."

"I feel the same, ma'am."

Every time he said the word ma'am, Ellie wanted to smile. There was something about the quaintness of the word paired with the way he spoke it that made her think of chivalrous knights. How preposterous! Ma'am?

"This whole village seems filled with talent."

Nessa's smile bloomed. And, to be honest, Ellie's did too. After spending such an extended time in Crieff and the North Country, she'd fallen in love with these people, their welcome, and their many skills passed down through generations. Whether from their clannish history or more old-fashioned ways, they'd embraced her without ceremony.

And she'd truly grown into their patron in both heart and position.

"There's such a heritage of handcrafts in these mountains, Luke. From overhearing you and Gordon, it sounds as if the people where you live aren't too different from those of us in Crieff. Using the earth to create beautiful things. Keeping to our heritage, if we can." Nessa raised a finger as if coming up with an idea. "You've not toured Crieff, have you?"

"Only seen a few shops yet," Luke answered. "But I think I found—"

"Ellie, you should give him a proper tour of the village, especially since he'll be staying here for some time."

Ellie looked from Luke to Nessa, attempting to send a mental message of how bad an idea that was. "I don't think he needs—"

"He'll find the people friendlier and most apt to help him if he comes along with you." The twinkle in her eyes deepened. "Everyone's a wee bit suspicious of strangers here, you ken."

"Sounds like home to me," Luke said, laughing. "We've got a whole lot of Scottish heritage in my part of the world. Folks will be friendly enough to point you in the right direction, but they're not quick to trust."

"Then it's all settled." Nessa nudged Ellie's arm back toward the way she'd come. "You take Luke here on a wee tour of the village, and by the time you get back I'll have some bacon batties, scones, and tea ready for you."

Luke narrowed his eyes for only a second as he looked at Ellie, likely for an interpretation.

With another not-so-subtle nudge or two, along with a farewell of "Now you two enjoy yourselves," Ellie found herself outside the shop with Luke at her side.

"You don't have to take me on a tour. I'm sure I can find my own way."

"Are you truly suggesting I defy one of the most powerful matriarchs of Crieff?"

His grin split wide and somehow inspired her own. "Yep, this sounds a whole lot like home."

"You have terrifying small-town matriarchs there too, do you?"

He leaned in, one brow raised in a playful way, causing her breath to stumble the slightest bit. "And there's no crossing them, so you just do as you're told."

She cleared her throat and drew back. "Exactly."

He shoved his hands back down into his jeans and blinked a few times, as if a little uncomfortable too. Clearly, he'd not meant any sort of flirtation. He'd just responded as if... as if they were friends.

Her intentions congealed around that thought.

And why not be friendly? She had no design to date him. The relationship couldn't go anywhere because she was determined to keep to the plan—earn back her parents' trust, and if she married, he would be Skymarian. Simple.

But friendships didn't have the same expectations.

She gestured with her head toward the steps and he followed, moving in step with her up the cobbled lane.

"Bacon batties are basically strips of bacon on a roll. Nessa will likely add eggs or cheese with some brown sauce, but it's a fairly basic sandwich."

"With Scottish flair," he said.

"Yes." She smiled. "That's the part you may need to watch out for. The Scottish flair."

He had an easy grin. "If it's got bacon in it, I'm all set."

"Well then, the North Country should suit you well. Bacon and sausage are found in over half the meals."

"This place is sounding more and more like home every minute."

"Really? I suppose I always equated America to massive cities like New York or Los Angeles. Not something like"—she waved her hand toward the cobblestone street lined with quaint little shops—"this."

A glimmer lit his dark eyes as he arched a brow. "Do I look like I fit into a place like New York or Los Angeles?"

"No." She chuckled. "Not at all."

His gaze took in the village. "My town, Mt. Airy, North Carolina—it's small like this and hugs the Blue Ridge Mountains, but..." He shook his head and sighed. "I have to drive a good distance to get views like you have here, if I can even find anything close. There's a wildness to it here."

"Which often frightens people." She raised her brow in challenge and watched his grin tip in such a way her heart fluttered a bit. "The wildness and... solitude."

"I'm a fan of both." His brow and words challenged her right back.

She smiled and he sighed, looking back ahead of them. "Especially the solitude right now. Pete's a talker. And a singer." Luke sighed again. "He even talks in his sleep."

It had been much too long since she'd laughed so readily. It felt good and... strange at the same time. Luke offered a comfort in conversation she hadn't often experienced. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he had no idea who she really was, so there was an ease to the conversation. But the longer she spent in his company, she was beginning to think it was just him.

He was incredibly genuine and sincere.

Qualities with which she'd had little experience in previous... friendships. Besides Maeve, of course. And Maeve's brand of genuineness came off as terrifying sometimes.

"I got the sense he was the more outgoing of the two of you."

He chuckled, soft and low. "I'm glad you're so good at reading people."

"In this case, the process wasn't difficult." A sudden chill shivered the smile away. "Actually, it's a learned skill after reading poorly so many times in the past."

He looked her way, taking in her words with a nod.

His silence held a simple and welcome acceptance. No quick praise, censure, or ridicule. No unwanted curiosity. And she realized that perhaps acceptance wasn't so simple after all.

What was it about this man that felt so... familiar? Well, perhaps not familiar, but so... good.

With a blue-and-black flannel shirt covering a black T-shirt, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and worn brown boots, he looked almost as much a part of this village as any native. Could he truly be as authentic as he appeared?

"You like this village, don't you?"

She sighed and glanced up the building-lined street, a few lampposts dotting the way. "Love it. I'd stay here all the time if I could."

His brows rose in surprise, but he stayed his response.

"Ah, I'm too proper and poised for simple village life, you assume?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I wouldn't say our first few meetings gave off country girl vibes."

"Maybe you've gotten me wrong?"

"I think that ran both ways." He gave her a pointed look.

Her attention never wavered from his. "Yes, but I've admitted my fault."

"You're right." He chuckled and looked down at her, his gaze as warm as the sound of his laugh. "Sometimes I don't mind being wrong."

She glanced away first, the moment teetering on an awareness she couldn't appreciate. Not with him. She desperately needed to move the conversation onto safer ground.

"Your eye is looking better."

He raised a brow. "You're gonna have to try that again if you want me to believe you."

And there went her smile again. "I'm serious. It does." She groaned. "I am so sorry."

"Really, Ellie. It's just fine." He gestured toward his face. "This is small in comparison to some of my other work wounds. Construction isn't the most accident-free occupation."

"I would imagine those accidents aren't usually caused by someone else."

"It's fifty-fifty."

They moved on a little farther and she filled in some of the amiable silence by pointing out various places here and there. Bratha's Treasures, one of the most special places in Skymar for its handcrafted ornaments; Seelie Wight's Bookshop; St.Peter's of Crieff, one of the oldest churches in the North Country; and Bree's Bakery, a newer addition.

He commented and asked questions in an unimposing sort of way, drawing out her conversation rather effortlessly.

"There is a shop you might enjoy." She waved toward his chest. "Since you seem so fond of flannel."

He followed her gaze to his shirt. "I never thought of the Scots as flannel lovers."

"The Scots have worn flannel shirts for centuries. Not quite as long as the kilt, but some as long as your country has been... a country." She gestured toward the nearest close, which wound between two narrow stone buildings. "There's a fantastic shop for them just down this close."

"Close?"

"Alleyway, I believe is the word with which you are more familiar. Some lead to pleasant little discoveries and others to rubbish bins."

"Sounds like life." His grin broadened and she almost laughed.

"I'd prefer the pleasant discoveries."

He nodded. "Me too."

And her gaze caught in his, or was it the way his lips tilted just the slightest bit to hint at his teasing?

She turned away, frustrated with herself, but her foot landed on one of the loose pavement stones. Her ankle made a little twist and she started to fall. In a second, Luke was by her side, taking her by the arm, but they both stumbled, the slightest cry rising from her throat as her ankle bent again.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, something dark blue rushed into view. Before she could prepare herself, Cameron was there, taking Luke by the arm and jerking him back toward the opposite wall of the close.

The motion sent Ellie off-balance again. "Cameron!" But her protest sounded strained as she attempted to right herself on the weakened ankle, stumbling as she did so. Concern flickered on Cameron's face and he hurried forward as if to steady her.

Her gaze found his. "It's not what you're—"

Before Ellie could finish the statement, Luke dashed back to where she stood and, with Cameron distracted by her, succeeded in slamming a fist into the man's jaw.