Chapter 8

When Luke had gotten a call from Nessa Frasier about some special period-appropriate tile Gordon had located for Cambric Hall's kitchen, the question of Nessa calling him instead of Gordon only flickered through his mind.

He'd just check out the pieces and have them sent up to the castle if they fit with the new backsplash. It wasn't but a mile or two walk from the village to the hall, and the clouds didn't seem threatening. Pete promised to meet him there after his date.

Little did Luke know that the threat inside the shop was much more dangerous than any possible one outside.

Nessa had invited him to stay for dinner along with Ellie St.Clare.

And from the twinkle in the older woman's eyes, her intention was clear.

Matchmaking.His lips fought a snarl. It was like he couldn't escape it.

Nessa's subtle hints about Ellie's history of betrayers and her need to have trustworthy people in her life didn't help Luke's struggle against attraction at all. The protector in him rushed to the defense.

Luke raised his gaze to hers across the table.

She had her hair pinned on the sides again today and she'd worn blue. Two things that, for some reason, brought out her beauty all the more. He'd noted the vulnerability in her words a few times during their past conversations. Something about brokenness.

Whoa there, pal. It is not your sole purpose to prove chivalry still lives! Nope.

"Is this your first visit to Skymar, Luke?" Nessa asked, cutting him a piece of some sort of cake.

"No, ma'am." He nodded his thanks as he took the cake. "Last fall, my youngest sister worked at a theater in Mountcaster and I came over in December to help with some of the set work for their year-end performance."

"The Darling House theater?" Ellie asked.

His attention shot to her. "You've heard of it?"

"The Sound of Music. Wasn't it?" Ellie said, her eyes glittering in the soft light cast over the table.

Luke turned his attention back to the cake and away from those eyes. "That's right."

"You traveled all the way to Skymar to assist your sister with a project?"

"I had the time." He wished he could shrug off the conversational turn with as much ease as shrugging his shoulders. "And they needed the help."

"And now you're swooping in to rescue our orphanage," Nessa added. "Like a regular hero."

The cake soured in his mouth.

"He's doing his job, wife," Gordon grumbled around the food in his mouth. "There's nothing heroic about just doing your job like the man you ought to be."

Thank you, Gordon. Sense... and distraction.

"I heard the performance was a huge success for the theater. As I understand it, the queen even made an appearance."

"The queen?" Nessa's comment held a lilt. "Well, did you have a chance to meet her, Luke?"

"Sure did." He offered a grin. "She was nice. Kind. Not nearly as high and mighty as I thought she'd be."

Ellie coughed.

"Well, of course she's not. She's from Crieff originally," Nessa added. "Her father was the pastor of Christ Church in the center of town."

Luke pushed his food through a hard swallow. "The queen is a PK?"

"PK?"

"Preacher's kid," he clarified and chuckled. "Well, that does change the sheen, doesn't it? A queen as a preacher's kid?" He shook his head. "I figured most royal folks had to marry other high-class sorts. Or at least that's the way it seems in the movies my sisters watch."

"It's usually the case that royals marry someone of rank or position, but not always." Nessa looked over at Ellie. "Sometimes love wins over position. In fact, it is so for our own king and queen."

Ellie's expression didn't quite match the theme of the conversation. She looked mad. Maybe she wasn't interested in royals all that much either.

"In fact, the queen is a lifelong friend of mine." Nessa tapped the table. "We went to school together and have remained very close throughout our lives."

A sound like a horse snorting came from the head of the table. Gordon, who'd been busy eating his cake, gestured with his fork toward his wife. "The lad didn't come here to talk nonsense about queens. He's come to talk about the work." He turned toward Luke. "Do you hope to modernize the look of the kitchen or keep to the original?"

Luke offered Nessa a grin in hopes of softening the turn in conversation before looking back at Gordon. "I have a few ideas I'd like to talk to Ellie and Mrs.Kershaw about before I make definite plans, but my goal is to keep the look historic while giving the kitchen more modern conveniences."

"Oh, well, you and Ellie should have a good discussion," Nessa interjected. "She has a degree in interior design, and she's a keen eye for it too."

"Nessa—" Ellie interjected, a slight edge in her voice.

"And she appreciates the history of the place," Nessa continued. "I'd make wise use of her skills and time, Luke, if I were you."

Ellie rolled her eyes and shook her head at him as if she were about done with Nessa for the night. Luke wasn't sure why, but her response nudged his grin a little wider.

Could a relationship, friendship or otherwise, be possible with her? Izzy and Penelope had made the seemingly impossible work, but could something that crazy work for him too?

Crazier things had happened, right?

Ellie checked things off a list he didn't even realize he had until that moment.

Smart. Talented. Sarcastic. Easy on the eyes.

Heat traveled up his neck, so he rubbed at the spot. He didn't even know classy was attractive to him, but she wore it well.

And was fun to talk to.

He pulled his attention back to safer ground. Work and Gordon. "We should be finished laying the new floor by midweek." He glanced back at Ellie. "I have your original plans. Do you still want to stick with those?"

Her brows rose. "Do you think we should change them?"

"Sometimes when folks see the space with the new floor, they get a different vision for the room. Now's the time to make any additional changes and consider colors for the walls."

"I do have some ideas about colors and fixtures." She leaned toward him, resting her chin on her hand and staring up at him in a distracting sort of way. Maybe it was the tilt to her smile or the glint in her eyes or the way her hair fell over her shoulder.

Daggone it. He was losing his ever-lovin' mind.

"And the new cabinets, well, I'd love your opinion on hardware for them—what you think would work best."

Work talk and a smart, pretty woman.

He was done for.

Fact.

And needed to get away ASAP before he did something really crazy like ask her on a date.

"Don't you both have to walk back to Cambric Hall?" Nessa offered. "It would be a good time to talk about it, I'd wager." Her smile spread wide. "How's that, Luke? Unless you're afraid Cameron will have another go at bustin' your other eye?"

Luke pulled his attention back to Nessa and chuckled. "I had a talk with him before coming into the shop. Thought an apology was due on my part, so I think now we're in good standing again. I'm not much of a royal sort, so his being part of the guards didn't even occur to me."

"The guards?" Gordon repeated. "Cameron? Well, he's not one of those—"

"That was very good of you," Nessa interrupted. "Cameron's from this village too. It's why he was chosen for the job." She stood, glancing out the window. "The clouds are coming in and the gloaming is close. Should the two of you start back toward the hall?"

Gordon's brows rose and he smothered what sounded like a laugh with another bite of cake. Yeah, Gordon saw the matchmaking madness too.

Luke and Ellie had barely made it out the door when Ellie looked up at him and sighed. "I'm so sorry about Nessa. She likes to engage in well-intentioned meddling too much for her own good."

"Well-intentioned meddling, eh?" He took the steps down from the shop door behind her, a slight wind bringing the nearby scent of pastries with it.

"After my rather difficult history, I'm afraid she thinks I'm in need of some good friends."

"Aren't we all in need of good friends?"

Her gaze flashed to him and then caught for a second before she returned her focus to the cobblestone lane ahead of them. "Yes." A soft sound like a chuckle slipped from her lips. "Yes, I suppose we are."

The silence took a tense turn, so Luke pushed himself into conversation. "My oldest sister has her beat by a long shot. It's a relief to be so far away from home for a little while just to get some peace from her good-intentioned meddling." He sighed. "Though my youngest sister is trying to do her fair share too. Evidently, her vast knowledge of movies helps her predict other people's futures."

"Movies?" Ellie laughed as they started down a path away from the main street. "Well, I suppose if you were fighting Batman or attempting to save the world from aliens, having a thorough inventory of certain movies could help. But from the sound of it, I suppose she relies more heavily on the romantic variety?"

The fact that her first two movie references were not romances piqued his interest more than it should. "Are you the sort that relies on the ‘romantic variety'?"

"Don't." She chuckled at his attempt to mimic her. "I prefer your natural accent."

"It's not quite as nice to the ears as yours," he murmured, and then replayed his sentence and wished the ground would grow teeth and swallow him whole.

What in the world was wrong with him? Why couldn't he speak like a normal person around her, rather than an idiot?

"I suppose it's listener's preference then. I think your accent carries a certain calming quality."

Well, at least if he spoke like an idiot, his voice had a calming quality.

The path led along the forest's edge away from town but in the direction of Cambric Hall. More private, he supposed.

"But I like all different sorts of movies. Adventure, action, historical, some biographies. The occasional rom-com, if it's done well."

For the real test, though...

"If you had to choose between watching Mission: Impossible or You've Got Mail, which would you choose?"

"Mission: Impossible, hands down." She tossed him a grin. "You get so many more movies, and Tom Cruise to boot."

"Tom Cruise." He pushed the name out through a good-natured growl. "But at least you chose wisely."

She looked up at him, her eyes lit with her smile. "Nice reference." His gaze shot to hers and she continued, "Indiana Jones? The Last Crusade?"

He may have just fallen in love with her on the spot. He frowned. She couldn't be this perfect. "All right, what about Star Wars versus a Hallmark movie?"

She slowed her pace, turning toward him. "What's a Hallmark movie?"

She was perfect. "You don't need to know. Ever."

Her eyes narrowed. "Well, now I have to find out."

"Don't waste your time and ruin the solid brain you've got for movies right now. Hallmarks are these predictable, sappy, romantic finger-food movies that basically use the same eight actors in three different settings with two basic storylines. If you're interested in action, there is none. And if you're interested in thoughtful romance, well, it's few and far between."

"And they're popular?" Her laugh choked out. "Why?"

"Beats me." He shrugged and thought of Penelope. Even Izzy fell for them sometimes. "You know how there are people in the world who prefer the sugar icing instead of the substance of the cake?"

"Oh dear, that sweet?"

"Worse." He nodded, their path bringing them to the outside edge of downtown Crieff, where a small park diverted the road in two directions. "They all have the same sorts of things that happen to the folks to fabricate romantic tension. The guy wiping a smudge of food off the girl's cheek, catching her from a fall off a ladder, offering his coat to her, their first kiss getting interrupted by a cell phone, reaching for the same drink at the same time, an undercover royal—"

"What?" She came to a complete stop.

"Yeah, that one is really far-fetched." He rolled his eyes. "You'd think folks would know if a person was royal or not from the get-go. Well, folks like me wouldn't because I don't follow that sort of news, but the regular folks would."

She started walking again, at a bit faster pace. Man, she really must not care for royals.

"I think since the royals are from make-believe countries that no one has heard of, the fact that they're undercover works better."

She cleared her throat and tossed him a narrow-eyed glance. "For not liking Hallmark movies, you seem to know a lot about them."

"Three sisters." He held up the appropriate number of fingers. "And even the most sensible one will binge-watch them at Christmas. It's like some sort of magical hold on their psyche."

Her laugh returned. "You're not really keeping my curiosity down, you realize."

They walked a little farther, the scent of baked goods and the sound of distant voices from the main street carrying to them over the cool breeze. Snow was in the air. Even in Skymar, Luke could smell it.

He glanced ahead as they started the climb up the hill. A large oak, like so many he'd noticed around here, branched out so wide the path had to detour a good ten feet to get around it.

"That's quite a tree."

She raised a brow and looked over at him. "It is."

And he continued to display his utter brilliance. "We just don't have oaks that big where I'm from. Maybe in the deep south, but not in my neck of the woods."

"My brother used to say those are the best ones to climb."

Luke nodded. "The branches basically create a stairway."

She paused, staring up at the tree. "I... I've always wanted to climb a tree."

He turned toward her slowly, trying to decipher her sentence. "You've never climbed a tree?"

He didn't mean to say it as bluntly as he did, but the idea of never having climbed a tree sort of stumped him. It was as common in his world as eating PBJs. He blinked. Did she eat PBJs?

Did they even have those in Skymar?

A rush of pink flew into her cheeks.

"Sorry, I... I'm sure there are lots of different things about Skymarian childhoods than Appalachian ones."

"I'm certain there are, but tree climbing isn't one of them." She studied him a moment and then resumed their walk. "There are many things I seemed to miss that I'm only now truly realizing. In fact, I have an entire list of things I missed as a child that I'd like to do someday."

"What happened?"

Quiet lingered, the only sounds their feet crunching the leaves scattered across the path and the voices from the village growing fainter. A bird chirped here or there. A squirrel rustled out of the way.

It was life as he liked it.

"When I was young, I had cancer for a little while."

The declaration struck him in the gut. Cancer hit hard enough, but as a kid? The idea nearly crippled him. How helpless and scared her parents must have felt.

"There were a lot of hospital visits and medications. I had to be home-educated for a few years. And then, after all the abnormal, I had to learn how to enter back into a normal world again as a ten-year-old." A burst of air came from her. A laugh? A sigh? "My mother became extremely protective of me because I wasn't very strong then."

"Fear."

"Now I understand it, but then all I felt was that everyone else's lives had moved on in ways mine hadn't. And since it took some time to gain back my strength and build my immune system, she continued to be overly protective to the point I felt trapped."

"Trapped?" He watched the late afternoon sunlight bathe her face and hair in gold.

"Suffocatingly so." She kept her gaze ahead, her expression sad. "There are... high expectations in my family, for everyone, but I felt I was coming into the fray not only at a disadvantage but attempting to free myself too, so I fought hard. As hard as I could to prove myself. In fact, it seemed I tried to do everything in complete defiance of how my parents raised me and what they wanted for my future." She paused then and looked up at him. "I'm fighting a very different battle now. Trapped, perhaps, in a different way by a collection of horrible choices. And now I'm fighting to prove I am not who I was. That they can trust and rely on me. That I have my priorities in the right place." Her gaze faltered. "But like you said in the building process, it truly is much more difficult to restore something that is broken than it is to break it."

He took everything in. The words and the ramifications of those words. The pain lacing her voice. The desire to make things right, but most of all the hope. Hope that after all the work and good choices, she'd be able to be seen in a new way, maybe the way he was beginning to see her.

"What were some things on your list?" He followed beside her as she resumed their walk. "The things you didn't get to try?"

Checking off a list, he could do. Fixing a broken past, well, that wasn't his job as much as hers and God's.

Her lips quirked, as if she recognized his detour too. "Much like the journal we found, my list is comprised of simple things. Climbing a tree." She waved behind them to the oak they'd passed. "Having a snowball fight."

"You've never had a snowball fight?"

"No." She shook her head, orange scenting the air as she did. "My mother was afraid to send me out in the cold and to have any of my siblings accost me with snowballs."

"I bet you'd have a mean throw. I've seen you swing a hammer."

She laughed. "You should see my painting skills. I'm rather excellent at painting."

He tipped a brow, his gaze roaming over her face. "I can put you to work with that too. Once you stop dawdlin' around with scrap pieces and get to real work."

"Real work?" Her eyes lit. "Then teach me how to lay the flooring next week?"

He narrowed his eyes as if considering. Maybe someone like her could consider someone like him. With her interior design degree, they'd make a great team, but—heat began a slow rise up his neck—he imagined they'd make an even better team off the job. "Were those the only things on your list?"

She narrowed her eyes right back at him and then chuckled. "Oh, I had other silly things like roast food over an open fire at night, swim in a lake."

"There are plenty of lakes around here." In fact, except for the ones that required snow, this list seemed pretty doable.

"Go sledding." She looked over at him. "The kind with an actual sled, not the horse and sleigh type."

The horse and sleigh type? He never would have thought of that one. Must be common in Skymar. Horse and sleigh?

"Build a fire. I've never learned how to do that and think it would be a rather important thing to know." If his body temperature counted, she already had a winning skill. "Sleep under the stars." Another picture that didn't help his man-brain. "Go fishing."

"Fishing is a great pastime." He cleared his throat, their steps seeming to grow slower the closer they came to the castle. "It's one of those quiet things in life that calms your mind and somehow makes life a little sweeter."

The lights of the castle blazed into the growing dusk in the distance, but she stopped just within the tree line and turned toward him. For a moment, she didn't say anything, just looked up at him, a crinkle on her brow.

"I've never met anyone like you." She breathed out the words. They didn't sound as if she thought he was crazy. No, her voice was tinged with a teensy bit of... wonder? Naw, that couldn't be right. He never inspired wonder, except when it was with people below the age of ten and he pretended to take off his thumb. "You pretend to be gruff, but anyone who is looking can tell there's a big heart beneath"—she waved a palm toward his chest, her smile brimming wider—"all the flannel."

He chuckled. He could fall for her so easily. Without one bit of trouble. He was already on the edge, ready to trip over the cliff, barely hanging on by his boot strings.

"Didn't you know? Flannel is heroic." Which made him think of Penelope for some reason, and nearly had him backing up to break whatever magnetic pull and stupid-inducing connection Ellie inspired, but Ellie's expression clouded, so he stayed close.

"After all the ways I've messed up and been hurt, I never imagined someone like you still existed. So... good."

"Flannel or not, we all mess up, Ellie. We make stupid decisions that impact us in immediate and long-term ways. But we also have the choice to grow from our mistakes." She stared up at him, her eyes softening with something that drew him even closer. "Sounds to me like your past and your mistakes have only made you a stronger and better person." He tilted his head, holding her gaze. "Certainly from what I can see."

He wasn't sure who moved first. He felt her grip his jacket at the same time his palms framed her cheeks, but at the moment, it didn't matter. Oh no—all that mattered was the way her lips felt against his. The scent of oranges wrapping around him with the same possession as the tightening of her grasp on his jacket. The taste of cake on her lips. The sense of coming home to a place he'd never even imagined, right here, in front of a castle, kissing Grace Kelly.

He pulled Ellie into his arms, accepting this strange and wonderful sense of belonging. She made a soft purr of a sound, encouraging him to continue investigating the contours of her lips, to drown in the scent of her hair. Have mercy, he'd never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wanted to kiss her... and didn't even know it until it happened.

Whatever her mistakes, he didn't care.

And whoever those hurtful men had been? A sense of protectiveness swelled through him with the force of a storm. They'd have to get through him first.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a... chime?

He almost stepped back, but she had such a nice hold on his lips, he decided to stay a bit longer.

And then the chime sounded again?

"What?" Ellie pulled back, her eyes wide, her breath fast, and her lips deliciously swollen. "What was that?"

Luke decided not to even mention his initial thought because there was no way he was proving Penelope—or Hallmark—right. And was she talking about the chimes or the kiss, because the kiss seemed pretty self-explanatory.

The chime happened again, coming from down below in the village.

"It's... it's the church bells?" She stumbled back from him, her palms to her cheeks. "Is it seven o'clock already?"

Bells! Not chimes. At least it wasn't chimes! Though, after that kiss, he might not mind a few Hallmark chimes here and there. Or explosions. Explosions sounded much more like what was happening inside his chest.

"We... we need to go." She stared back at him for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether she wanted to vault back into kissing mode or take off like a terrified squirrel.

The squirrel idea won. Off she skittered up the hill.

He wasn't sure whether she was running away from his kiss or toward shelter, but one thing was for certain: he was already ready to kiss Ellie St.Clare one more time.

***

Text from Ellie to Maeve:I can't return to the orphanage for the next two months.

Maeve:Are the renovations that bad? I thought what's his name—Luke?—was a good carpenter.

Ellie:He's a great carpenter. And a good man.

Ellie:And... an excellent kisser.

Maeve:Um... what?

Ellie:I'm not sure what happened. One minute I was telling him about my childhood, and then he looked at me so tenderly with those big brown eyes of his and we were kissing.

Ellie:Excellent kissing. I need to stop thinking about it.

Maeve:As I've said on numerous occasions, I never mind a good kiss. A great one is even better.

Ellie:But I'm not supposed to be kissing a man with whom I cannot continue a long-term relationship, Maeve. I'm supposed to be showing my maturity and growth. My readiness for life as a royal.

Maeve:Royals don't kiss? I'm sure your parents would beg to differ. Stellan and Ariana shared an impressive one on their wedding day too. I think they probably breached ten royal protocols with that kiss.

Ellie:It was just a kiss, right? A harmless kiss. Simple.

Maeve:Was it?

Ellie:No. It wasn't. My mind went completely blank for a solid ten seconds and all I wanted to do was linger there. He . ..I don't know, he made me feel safe and treasured and completely overwhelmed.

Maeve:Yep, that's not a normal kiss. You'd better run from this guy since you're determined not to have a happily ever after.

Ellie:Maeve! He's not on the list.

Maeve:Then it's a stupid list.

Maeve:What are you going to do?

Ellie:Apologize.

Maeve:For the kiss?

Ellie:It doesn't feel right apologizing for such a kiss... or a few kisses, truth be told, but I am going to apologize for allowing the kiss to happen and carefully explain that I can't pursue a future relationship.

Maeve:Sounds horrible. Not the kiss-ES but your reasoning.

Ellie:It sounds responsible.

Maeve:Responsible for who?

Maeve:Aha, you've stopped responding. Another point for me.

Ellie:I'll admit to it being an amazing kiss and one I may remember for the rest of my life. But it can NEVER happen again.