Chapter 6

Text from Luke to Izzy:So... I punched a royal guard, or something, today. I'm not sharing the news with Penelope because I don't care to go into the story, but I thought you'd appreciate my dual sense of power and humiliation.

Izzy:What on earth happened????

Luke:Evidently, he was in Crieff checking up on security for the people who are working for the royals, like... let me refer to one of my supervisors as Holt and the other... as much as I hate it... Grace Kelly. So since this project is important to the royals, and these people are working for the royals, he was sent in to check security. Or that's how Grace Kelly (ugh, I hate writing that) explained it.

Izzy:So you decked him?

Luke:Only after he pushed me out of the way and then went for Grace, at which time I tried to protect HER from HIM, thus the punching. Evidently, he thought I was putting her in danger, when really I was just trying to catch her after she twisted her ankle. Her cry of pain was taken as a cry for help and he bounded to the rescue. It was a big misunderstanding.

Izzy:Which ended up with a royal security guard having a black eye and you...??

Luke:Busted lip, but my teeth are okay, so I take that as a win. I'm glad Grace stopped him because he is trained to protect, so I'm pretty sure he could have killed me quick.

Izzy:This is clearly what happens when you forget your Rambo knife.

Luke:Actually, the guard and I talked weapons after Grace smoothed things over and explained to him that she was giving me a tour of Crieff.

Izzy:Oh my word. I hate to sound like Penelope...

Luke:Don't.

Izzy:But this sounds like a movie moment.

Luke:You can't join her side, Izzy. You're the reasonable one.

Izzy:Did the whole town see what happened?

Luke:Thankfully, no. It all happened in a little alleyway. So we didn't have an audience to witness me almost getting arrested.

Izzy:Do they have dungeons here? I should ask Brodie.

Luke:All the more reason not to tell Penelope. She'll make it into some weird romantic movie reference about happily-ever-after mush. Especially if there is a royal connection or dungeon reference.

Izzy:So now you have a swollen eye and a busted lip? My introduction to Skymar was better than yours. *Brodie*

Luke:I am 100% certain I don't want Brodie to introduce me to Skymar like he introduced you. Gross. The cabin has a great view, the typical menu consists of mostly meat, and I get to do what I love without one hint of ooey gooey kissing stuff. Semantics really does change who has the "better" introduction.

Luke:On a different note, you and Blighty should come visit Crieff. I imagine Brodie's already been here since he's a native of Skymar, but he should bring you. You'd love it. All sorts of quaint shops. Unique ones. Lots of trade work and craftsmanship. There's a whole shop of handmade Christmas ornaments, a luthier, a quilt store, handmade jewelry. It's like visiting places in Appalachia back home, except with this culture's own distinctiveness.

Izzy:That was a super-long text from you. Wow! You must really like the place.

Luke:Rural. Quaint. Grumpy Scottish men who talk sense and friendly Scottish ladies who will feed you? Perfect.

Luke:Gotta run. We just pulled into work for our first day on the job.

Izzy:Try not to damage anything on yourself that won't heal.

Luke:I never make those kinds of promises.

It only took a little while to mentally sort the building team into two groups, the experienced and the wannabe experienced. Since both teams were interested in working, though, Luke had no trouble making all their dreams come true for a solid eight hours.

Two of the men, Gordon Frasier included, had good heads and experience for building, so he put them on the demo team along with him. The other group he placed under Pete's care as the gofer boys, though Luke didn't share that particular label with the men. However, a good building team always needed folks to go for more wood or tools or to take the scrap to the scrap pile.

And with a new floor to lay and floor joists to fix, plus an entire kitchen to remodel, he needed folks in their lane.

He'd just finished instructing the men on the initial floor demo plan when the energy in the room changed. He'd heard Penelope talk about that moment before, but he'd ignored it as another of her magical romance-y thoughts.

But he felt it. Even noticed it on the men's faces as their posture straightened and their eyes shifted behind Luke toward the kitchen doorway. For some reason, he had a strange idea he knew exactly what or, more precisely, who had caused the change.

He drew in a breath, raised his gaze heavenward in a quick prayer for strength, and turned to see Ellie entering the room. She offered him a smile as she took off her coat, and his thoughts froze. She'd pulled her hair back in a long ponytail, but what really captured him were her clothes.

Gone was the formal attire. In its place was a pair of dark jeans, a long-sleeved green T-shirt, and a pair of calf-high work boots. Even her makeup, if she wore any, looked more simplistic.

And the same feeling he got when he'd visited a three-story Bass Pro Shop for the first time tightened his chest with a terrifying realization.

This moment would change his life.

His mind shoved the movie moment idea back so fast, he nearly got dizzy. Because his sudden mental fog could not have anything to do with Grace Kelly.

She tilted her head in question at his stare, and he looked away.

Pantsuits and skirts were one thing. Nice. Fancy. Somewhat ignorable for the most part.

But a woman who rocked simplicity?

His brain revolted against the interest.

Well, that could undo a man.

Or at least the kind of man he was.

He was pretty sure he needed to keep her out of his sight for the rest of the day. Or at least the morning, so he could adjust to the annoying attraction nearly knocking him over.

Luke shot another gaze heavenward and pinched back a complaint.

He always appreciated God's sense of humor in other people's lives, but he couldn't say the same for it in his own. At least not about—he frowned—the heart.

With a few short commands, he sent the men off in various directions and braced himself as the orange, floral scent slipped around him at her approach.

Time to shove any ooey gooey romance thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, deep into the nothing box.

"I thought we weren't starting until nine." He turned to her voice, her head tipped back and eyes narrowed. "Did you tell me the wrong time on purpose?"

And he pushed his attraction to this woman into the nothing box too. "Nope, it's just that the men all showed up early, so there was no use waiting around to start the job."

"Well, next time I'll make sure to arrive early too." She folded her arms across her chest. "Now, where do I start?"

He gestured with his head toward the group of men to the right. "I'm placing you with Pete and the gofers."

"The what?"

Don't grin. It's a sign of weakness.

"In a building crew, there are usually two groups. The ones who have more experience and know how to be most effective and efficient with our time, and the ones with less experience but plenty of good sense." He raised a brow. "Well, I'm hoping there's plenty of good sense in our gofer crew, but I haven't seen what sort of workers they are quite yet."

Shucks. Why did he feel compelled to tease all the high-class right out of her? It was like his mouth didn't listen to one word his brain was telling it.

"You're not implying anything, are you, Mr.Edgewood?" Her brows rose, the slight tilt of her lips revealing her playfulness in the conversation.

Daggone it. A sense of humor was about as attractive as those eyes. He pushed that thought into the nothing box too... and then his shoulders deflated.

There were a whole lot of somethings piling up in that nothing box.

"No implication whatsoever," he shot back, watching the glint deepen in her eyes. "Time will tell."

Her bottom lip dropped the slightest bit before slipping into a smile. "Good sense learned through trial may be more my speed."

He studied her for a second.

Hmm... there was no mistake she was trying to overcome something in her past from the smattering of remarks she'd made so far.

Nope. Stop, Luke. Don't think beyond, "Hi, nice to see ya. Would you help carry that piece of shoe mold to the scrap pile?"

"That's probably the best kind of good sense."

She paused her gaze in his before dipping her chin. "Good." She started toward Pete and then tossed a look over her shoulder. "But for proper reference, I know my way around a hammer. I may not be able to do much else as far as construction, but interior design taught me that much."

Interior design? Hmm... then her comfort with a hammer made sense.

He pulled his gaze away from her retreating form and put his mind to task.

The process moved rather smoothly from there. Luke only had trouble understanding Ross and Gordon a few times, and they weren't big talkers either. Sometimes he'd overhear them making comments to each other in Gaelic or Caedric—he wasn't sure which one—but otherwise, they kept to work talk. Good craftsmen related to good craftsmen for the most part. And mostly used work talk, which suited Luke just fine. The understanding of the work and the desire to do a good job transcended different cultures and backgrounds in many ways.

It was another reason he liked working in building over accounting. He'd always been drawn to creating with his hands. Sure, it started with some mean LEGO skills, but his uncle had seen the carpentry gift and taken Luke under his wing. His father's handcrafts through furniture making only enhanced Luke's skills and interest.

His mom had said it was because Luke liked fixing things.

His gaze traveled up from his place by the window and fell on Ellie, who was carrying scrap wood from the kitchen floor out to a safe place away from the children. Pete came along and offered to help, but she shook her head, continuing on without complaint. She'd been working as hard as the rest of them all morning.

Well, Pete seemed a little distracted by one of the lower-grade teachers. The teacher seemed pretty distracted by Pete too, from the way she kept making eyes at him.

Luke frowned and returned to his work. He wasn't making eyes at Ellie like that, was he? Oh man, that would just be embarrassing.

His brain scanned through all of his favorite movies. Indiana Jones? Rambo? Ethan Hunt in Mission: Impossible?

Nah. Indiana wasn't the best example with his track record.

Rambo either.

His brain paused on Aragorn.

Okay, so maybe there were some not-so-embarrassing examples of "making eyes."

Luke gave his head a strong shake. Nope. Wasn't going there.

He turned all of his mental energy back to wood and nails and dust.

And away from Ellie St.Clare.

***

Text from Izzy to Penelope:Luke starts the job with Grace Kelly today.

Penelope:Of course he does. Ooh, I wonder what sorts of connection moments they'll have. Will he brush her hair from her face? Will she help tend his wound? Will their eyes catch across the room of tools and sawdust? Um... not sure that last scene in my head is as romantic as the others.

Izzy:Penelope, Grace Kelly doesn't seem his type at all. Reserved. High-class. Working for the royal family?!? I mean, Luke hates anything princess-y, let alone girls who act like they ARE princesses (I mean that in the bad princess way, not the way you act like a princess). It's definitely not a match for him.

Penelope:I'm shocked at you, Izzy. Where is your love for tropes? Enemies to lovers? Opposites attract? Fish-out-of-water romances? AND he's even wearing flannel. He's living his best Hallmark movie dream right now.

Izzy:Penn, I think we can safely say Luke would never put the words "best," "Hallmark," and "dream" in the same sentence in reference to himself. Ever.

Penelope:Well, that's all right. We can dream it for him. Isn't it fun??? And I can give him pointers from my vast movie-lover experience so he won't be blindsided by what happens next. I've already predicted the forced proximity. Hmm... what do you think would be next?

Izzy:Predictions with Luke might be too dangerous for me.

Penelope:Coward. It brings my fierce daydreaming skills to the forefront. Plus, I feel some sort of justification for all the ways he's teased me my whole life.

Izzy:For some reason, I can actually hear you cackling right now.

Penelope:I wasn't THAT loud.

Izzy:Working with the coffee shop girl is just a coincidence.

Penelope:Izzy, there are no coincidences. Only wonderfully designed divine appointments. Or... well-scripted scenes. Or those moments when we're just clumsy.

Penelope:So they'll have to engage in a few awkward moments. You know what I mean? Catch her when she falls. Or reach for the same cup.

Izzy:Or hammer, in Luke's case.

Penelope:Right. Or show up at the same place unexpectedly.

Izzy:And find out they have some similar interests.

Penelope:Right! Be surprised that their first opinions aren't true. EEEE!!!! It's like writing Luke's love story while it's happening. This makes me so happy. We should share our ideas with him.

Izzy:He would hate us. Mostly you.

Penelope:Pssht! I'm not worried. He's hated me before.

***

Mrs.Kershaw provided a nice lunch of vegetable soup and rolls—hearty enough to get the workers through the rest of the day without much trouble. She'd even had a few of the older kids bring in cookies, or what they called biscuits over here, as well as offer tea and coffee.

Luke took his cup of coffee and walked out onto a large veranda connected to the back of the castle. He still shook his head every time he thought of working in a castle. If this had happened to Penelope, he wouldn't have blinked an eye. But he wasn't the castle sort.

Though he had to appreciate the architecture.

And the perfect situation of where the owner had chosen to build the place.

Even as a chilly bite clung to the March breeze, Luke had to take any opportunity to appreciate the view. Miles of views. Rich green hills rolling up to jagged mountains. A lake off to one side.

He squinted.

And what was that in the far distance? Some sort of estate house?

He'd never admit it out loud, but this whole island was like stepping into a storybook. He preferred thinking of it more like something out of an epic movie like The Lord of the Rings, but he couldn't help the occasional turn of thought, despite his attempts, toward the fairy-tale story direction.

"It's a pretty spectacular view, isn't it?"

He turned to find Ellie joining him at the veranda railing, her gaze focused on the view ahead. He'd spent most of the morning reordering his thoughts and tugging his emotions to comply, so when she turned up, looking all comfortable and cozy with that cup of coffee between her palms, it only took five seconds to pull his attention from her profile.

Five.

That was much better than the last time.

"Like nothing I've seen before."

She turned toward him. "Didn't you say there were some lovely mountains near where you live? Something bluish?"

He tilted his head, studying her. "You were listening that carefully, Ellie?"

"Maybe. And I might have googled images." Her lips twitched. "Trying to see this world from a novel point of view is difficult. It's all I've known."

"I get that." He nodded, taking another sip of coffee. "Besides going on a few mission trips to South America, I've not traveled much from home either."

"Do you... like home?"

Her hesitation drew his gaze to her face. "I do. I like the place, the people. I like knowing who to call when I need something and where to go to find it. And I like the scenery and the quiet. And that my family is just down the road."

"I always thought people like you were from fairy-tale stories."

He nearly spit out his coffee. "What?"

Her grin resurfaced. "You're, what do they call you, one of the good guys?"

"Not sure good guys are just reserved for fairy tales, or at least I hope not. I'd like to think they're a lot more... real than that."

She rolled her eyes with a sigh. "You know what I mean. Honest, reliable, authentic." She waved toward him. "But instead of a knight's armor, you wear flannel." A chuckle wrapped around her words.

"And instead of a sword, I carry a hammer?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not sure whether you're trying to compliment or insult me."

"I'll let you sort it out then." She took a sip of her coffee and wiggled her brows, and the nothing box exploded from all the extra things he started stuffing in it at that moment.

"I'd like to think I'm those things," he said, rushing ahead before stopping himself. "Not the fairy-tale things but the other parts." He drew in a breath. "But I've got feet of clay like anybody else, and sometimes it's stubborn old red clay that refuses to budge."

She stared at him, a soft smile on her face. "Hmm..."

"Don't get me wrong." He called on some humor for cover from any romance-y ideas. "It's all the flannel. It sets off good guy vibes."

"So lose the shirt and you're a scoundrel?"

He gave his head a firm shake. "Now why would anyone want to get rid of a perfectly good flannel shirt?"

She chuckled again but let the conversation dim into silence. Good. He had plenty of things God was working on in him, so any idea toward a fairy tale would definitely lead to the wrong conclusions.

He nodded to himself. Exactly. Bah, fairy tales! No good. They set unreasonable expectations and led to Penelope singing too much for anyone's peace of mind.

With a turn back toward the horizon, Ellie took a sip of her coffee and sighed. "Coffee is perfect for days like today, isn't it?"

"I can smell the sugar in it from here." Now, why did he keep teasing her if he didn't want to keep talking to her? Stupid brain!

She tipped her cup toward him. "Sweet rewards for sweet personalities, I suppose."

"Or"—he raised his mug—"you're already so sweet, no added sweetness is necessary."

Her laugh burst out and somehow made him feel taller. Better.

He really was losing his mind.

***

Ellie squeezed her coffee cup so hard she thought she might puncture it. Just the idea of Luke losing his shirt had her mind going much too close to the ogling direction! She'd been the one to accuse him and now found herself having a hard time pulling her attention from the way his T-shirt hugged his arms.

It wasn't like she hadn't seen attractive men before, even after she'd turned her life around, but his subtle humor and focused attention, paired with those arms and shoulders, proved the real attraction.

She squeezed her lips closed to stifle a grimace.

What was wrong with her?

And why had she even come out to talk to him? Any relationship with him couldn't go where her interest wanted it to go! She knew this! He'd just stated how he loved where he lived because his family was "just down the road."

But then he'd said her name—Ellie—in that deep, rumbling voice of his, and she'd nearly buckled at the knees. Heaven and earth! Why?

She'd been with plenty of men.

Too many.

And all the wrong ones, so a simple thing like someone saying her name shouldn't have her wanting to curl up inside that flannel shirt of his, but here she was. Daydreaming and ogling like one of the best oglers in the world.

But she couldn't seem to stay away, drawn to something in him she craved.

What was it? His goodness?

"You know..." She turned and rested her hip against the railing, looking up at him, the sunlight brightening those coffee-colored eyes. "You haven't brought up the journal we found. Aren't you curious at all?"

He stared down at her, his height and the size of those shoulders intimidating but for the glint in his eyes. She'd seen him with two of the orphan girls, overheard his conversation. He held a gentleness within his strong frame. A kindness.

And she... trusted him. More than she should at such a short acquaintance.

Her lips gave way to a grin. Perhaps he was more knight than he realized.

At heart.

"I'm curious, but I figured you'd tell me if you wanted to."

Her emotions glitched in response. No games. No manipulation. "You are a very low-pressure sort of person, aren't you?"

His smile widened and she forced her gaze not to drop to examine the tiniest indention at one corner. Was that a dimple? No! Not a dimple! On such a man? That just seemed like the cruelest sort of combination!

"I have my high-pressure moments. Mostly related to movies or building techniques." His expression sobered. "I hate cutting corners and not giving people my best."

He was definitely proving one of the good guys. "Well, that's certainly worthy of high pressure."

"And my sisters would say I can be high pressure on the teasing side or in competitions. I can get pretty hot during those moments." Then he gestured toward her with his cup. "So what about this journal?"

"Ah, did we spend too long talking about you, Mr.Edgewood?" She watched a tinge of red creep into his cheeks as she took a drink of her coffee... and, simply put, it was one of the most attractive things she'd ever seen.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "If you don't want to share, we can just head right back inside."

"Very well." She released an exaggerated sigh. "It's simply that. A journal. From what I can tell, it belonged to one of the former maids of the house and tells of a romance she developed with a local farmer."

"Of course it'd be about a romance." Despite his growly response, she almost felt him smile, so she continued.

"I read it all in one night."

"That gripping of a romance, or were you just bored?"

Her grin spread. "Actually, it was simply beautiful and I mean both of those words. It held a simple beauty. Nothing grand or glorious. No fencing, fighting, torture, or revenge."

"Monsters?" He raised a brow. "Chases or escapes?"

A laugh burst out of her at his continuing the quote from The Princess Bride. "No, but there was true love, it seems, and that was the miracle."

He scrunched up his nose as if he'd caught a sour scent. "We leave gross talk like that away from the jobsite, Ellie."

And she lost her laugh again. "Well then, I'll save the talk for another day and place so as not to sully the jobsite. But there was something incredibly sweet about such a simple sort of love. Straightforward and tender."

"I reckon the best kind of love is simple in one way." He looked back out over the horizon. "Choosing each other over and over and over again."

She stared up at him, the declaration taking her by surprise. And yet it fit him. Direct and tender without any frills. She liked that.

He looked down at her then and shook his head, a new wash of pink coloring his cheeks. Ah, he hadn't meant to say that.

The sound of hammers and falling wood broke into the quiet, and Luke glanced behind him back into the hall. "Looks like the break is over." He took a few steps back, his words rushing out as if someone had given him an escape.

And it just made him more endearing.

No, Ellie. No. You promised yourself that the next time you gave your heart, it would be to the right man or not at all.

And American carpenter Luke Edgewood wasn't an option.

She pushed away from the railing, raising her cup to him in salute. "Well then, I suppose it's back to being a gofer."

"I have to say you're one of the best-lookin' gofers I've ever worked with." His eyes shot wide and he looked away, clearing his throat as he took a few more steps back.

Oh, she couldn't let him get away with a sweet comment like that now, could she? "Ogling again, are we?"

His jaw twitched but he leveled her with a look, almost like taking a challenge. "Just stating facts." And then the resident twinkle reentered his eyes. "And I don't know how much of a compliment you should make of it. I work with mostly grumpy, seasoned men who smell like sawdust and sweat. Your presence would be an improvement on all fronts."

With a lift of his own cup, he turned back toward the hall, and to her own dismay—and delight, if she was being honest—she ogled him all the way back inside.

The smile fell from her face as the door closed behind him. What was she doing? She'd worked so hard to move in the direction her family wanted her to go. Spent three years trying to renew her thinking toward solid, wholesome plans any princess should have for her family and country.

And she'd worked hard to earn her parents' trust and confidence again.

They were finally reinstating her, officially, as a working royal at the Wild Hyacinth Ball, and she wanted that. She wanted to prove to them she was ready.

Her gaze went back to the hall and her heart constricted from a sudden pang.

Which meant another hard lesson of royal life.

Making choices for the greater good.

Not for her heart.