Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

" T he green one," Spreag said decisively as Alexandra held up two dresses. "It brings out yer eyes."

She laughed. "Since when are you a fashion expert?"

"Since I spent a year watchin' ye get dressed." He winked with gusto. "Though I preferred ye undressed."

"Behave." She slipped the emerald wrap dress over her head, grateful that her morning sickness had passed early that day. "It's not a date. It's just dinner."

"Aye, and the roses he sent this afternoon were just neighborly."

She smoothed the fabric over her barely round stomach. "There it is. Now you sound properly jealous."

"I vow to be downright territorial when ye return." His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Ye won't mind if I dinnae tag along. No need to give the man more reason to think ye need professional help."

"Good point." Honestly, she was relieved she hadn't had to bring up the subject herself.

She stepped into black heels and reached for her pearls—Spreag's wedding gift to her. Nothing else in her jewelry box would look good with the green.

The doorbell rang at six o'clock sharp and her stomach fluttered. She spun in a circle to make sure her skirt wasn't caught on anything, and asked her mirror. "How do I look?"

"Like the bonniest lass in the world." Spreag's soft answer made her stop and second guess, until he added, "Go. Have fun."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He made a shooing motion. "Besides, ye deserve a proper meal out. And proper company."

When she opened the door, Callum stood on her porch in a well-fitted gray suit. His red curls were tamed and tied back. He'd brought more flowers—from Tenbury's garden.

"These reminded me of ye," he said. "Wild and lovely."

"Did you forget you already sent roses?"

"Nay, but a lass can never have too many flowers about."

She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. Let me put them in water."

He followed her to the kitchen. "Ye look stunnin', by the bye." He got a good look at the orange rose bouquet that had been delivered that afternoon and his chest puffed up like a rooster's. "These almost do ye justice."

"You clean up pretty well yourself. And the roses are amazing. Thank you." She dropped the wildflowers in a short vase of water, then rinsed and dried her hands. "Ready?"

"Aye."

Outside, he opened her car door, then walked around to the passenger seat. The stiffness in his movements told her he was toughing it out. At least she didn't have to worry about him singing at the restaurant.

"I made reservations at House of Tricks," he said, then asked if she knew the way.

She did.

The restaurant was one of Tempe's finest, housed in a 1920s cottage surrounded by trees strung with fairy lights. They were seated on the patio, where the December air was just cool enough for the stone fireplace to be lit. The ambiance was magical—twinkling lights reflected in crystal glasses, soft music from a guitarist near the fireplace, and the gentle murmur of conversation around them.

"This is lovely," Alexandra said, taking in the scene. "I haven't been here in ages."

"I did my research." Callum's eyes sparkled in the firelight. "Supposed to be a popular place for a special evening."

Their conversation flowed easily over wine--sparkling water for her--and appetizers. She found herself relaxing, drawn in by his attentiveness and quick wit. She told him about following in her father's footsteps at the university, about growing up surrounded by books and intellectual debate.

"His mother, my grandmother, was the opposite," she said, laughing. "She believed in magic and star-crossed lovers. Used to drive my father crazy."

"Sounds like my gran." Callum grinned. "She's the one who pushed me to take this trip. She's desperate for grandchildren while she can still see them."

"Are her eyes failing?"

"Nay." His eyes danced. "But she threatens to poke them out if I dinnae marry soon."

Alexandra laughed. "Sounds like quite a character."

"She is that." His expression softened. "Ye should bring the wee one to visit someday. The lambs will be coming in spring."

"So will my baby. So probably not this year. Though I do plan to go back to visit friends at some point." She rested her hand on her stomach. "We're thinking of naming her Huntly."

She'd said we! But if he'd noticed, he didn't show it.

"A fine name." He covered her other hand with his. "A fine strong name."

The touch sent warmth spreading through her. She could have pulled away, but she didn't.

Just then, the guitarist tapped his microphone, stood up, and smiled. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat tonight. One of our guests has requested to perform a song." He held out his guitar and waited.

To Alexandra's surprise, Callum stood and strode over to relieve the man of his instrument. The other diners turned to watch. Alex wondered if she should run inside or try to hide under the table. The way he'd sung when he was stoned wasn't something he should be sharing with the rest of the world!

"This is for my overly pretty neighbor," he bent and said into the microphone, drawing appreciative chuckles from the crowd. He tested the guitar's tuning, then began to play—a melody with a distinctly Scottish cadence that made her think of misty mornings and rolling hills. Maybe he was just going to play and not sing.

Please don't let him sing!

Before walking away, the musician adjusted the microphone stand to end just below Callum's chin.

Oh no!

When he began to sing, though, he was a man she didn't recognize at all. His rich voice carried clearly across the patio.

A simple man, I know the mornin.

Wild awake before the dawn

My calloused hands come with a warnin’

Coarse are the edges of a common mon.

Alex took a deep breath. She was going to survive this after all.

And yet, and yet I dream.

The fosie touch of one sweet lov’r.

A lazy morn in sheets of linen.

Of pillows tossed and lost again.

While I'm missing all I’m cravin’,

I build my fires, I wait my chance,

For a love to shelter, and for savin’,

A simple waltz, a slow, sweet dance.

The lyrics brought tears to her eyes. The raw emotion in his voice touched something deep inside her and that voice was surprisingly beautiful--much deeper and richer than when the gummies made him sing.

Diners and waiter staff came outside just to listen…

And still, and still I dream.

The fosie touch of yer sweet lovin’.

A lazy morn in sheets of linen.

Of heartbeats lost and found again.

I’ve carved my life from blood and field

From sweat and soil and light of day.

But for yer kiss the night I’ll yield

Like morn’ to mist, burn the hours away.

Ye’re all, ye’re all I dream.

The fosie touch of yer sweet hand.

The spark and flash in yer dark eyes

As we find love and love again.

Ignore the lark for lovers’ call,

As we make love…and love again.

When the last note faded, the patio erupted in applause. Callum returned to their table, slightly flushed but smiling.

"That was beautiful," she whispered.

He was forced to stand and take another bow before the applause would die.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of good food and better company. They shared stories about their families, their hopes, their dreams. In gratitude for his singing, the restaurant brought them dessert on the house.

His intelligence matched his humor, and she found herself laughing so hard she couldn't catch her breath--just like she'd laughed while he'd stayed in her house. What kind of idiot would send him packing?

The kind of idiot who just couldn't let go of her dead husband's ghost.

When they returned home, he walked her to her front door. In the porch light, his expression was deadly serious.

"Thank ye for a lovely evening."

"Thank you for dinner." She fumbled with her keys. "And for the song. It was...perfect."

"I'm pleased ye liked it, since I wrote it with ye in mind." While she stuttered in surprise, he stepped closer and brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. "Alexandra..."

When his lips met hers, they were warm and gentle. She should have stopped him, but instead, she leaned into the kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, then he kissed her again, deeper this time.

Finally, he stepped back, as breathless as she was. "Goodnight, lass."

Her cheeks and lips tingled as he walked away. At the edge of the drive, he turned back to give a little wave and a wink.

She didn't remember opening the door or going inside, but once she was in her room, removing her dress, she wondered why Spreag wasn't there to watch and drill her about her evening. Worn out, she didn’t call for him, just went straight to bed, her mind full of fairy lights and music.

In the morning, when she sang his name, Spreag didn't come...