Chapter 26

Willow

Neither of us had brought up my brother yet.

I wasn't quite sure what to say. Maybe Ramsay didn't know either. There was a part of me that felt like I was doing something wrong, like I was sneaking around behind Miles's back, but at the same time, we were both consenting adults.

It had been seven days since Ramsay had carried me upstairs and had his way with me, and yes, that is exactly how I liked to think of it. Had his way with me.

Because, I'm telling you, I never thought I was one for the whole Alpha male, order-me-around, take-charge type, but holy hell—in the bedroom? Yes, please, and thank you. I will take it any and all days of the week apparently. My cheeks flushed as I thought about how just that morning he'd ordered me to my knees, and I'd taken him in my mouth, touching myself while I'd pleasured him.

And all this was before my morning coffee.

I'd moved a few things over from the castle, nothing much, but just enough that could get me by, because I'd been spending most nights at Ramsay's place. Calvin didn't seem to mind, as a secondary cat jungle gym made by Ramsay's father had appeared, and I couldn't believe what an easy rhythm Ramsay and I had fallen into.

This morning I sat at the sewing machine, ready to put the finishing touches on my outfit for the upcoming cèilidh when my phone buzzed with an incoming text message. Picking it up, I dangled a knotted ribbon in front of Calvin absentmindedly while I scrolled.

Mom got a favor called in and got her tests done. Stage one. Good news though. There are virtually no signs at this stage, so the outlook is great. All because of your vision. Dinner's on me. Bring Ramsay. I hear you two are shacking up.

I blinked back the rush of tears that threatened.

My gift had done some good.

I could make a difference here.

Calvin sunk a claw into my calf, and I yelped, looking down at him, and he blinked at me, a vision of my scissors flashing into my head.

"Ope, you think this was a challenge?" I squinted down at him. "You know, you don't have to be so rude about getting my attention."

Calvin butted his head against my leg, purring, and I pursed my lips.

"Yeah, like that. A much better route than the claws."

Digging in my sewing kit, I pulled out my scissors and turned the handle over in my hand.

I gasped.

Sure enough, nestled among the vines was a heart with a thistle in the middle of it, much like the locket that Lia had worn. I held the scissors to my chest, closing my eyes to settle myself, and that's how Ramsay found me.

"Don't do it. I quite like having you around."

Grinning, I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me from the other side of the table.

"I passed another challenge."

"Did you? That's grand, isn't it? When were you off accomplishing side quests?"

"Ah, well, it's a private matter. Do you mind if I let her tell you as it's not my story to share?"

"Who is she?"

"Lia."

"That's fair. I suppose you'd have to be careful with what you know, now that you can get a behind-the-curtain view to people's lives. But she and Munroe are okay?"

"They are. And, yes, it feels kind of like I need to have a confidentiality clause." I reached out and squeezed Ramsay's hand, grateful for his understanding, and pulled him closer. "Look at my scissors."

I showed him where the new design had shown up in the handle, and appreciated how he took the time to carefully listen and appreciate the gift that I'd been given. Ramsay didn't try to steamroll me or tell me what was best for me to do, nor was he a pushover.

He'd truly been proud of me for being a part of the Order of Caledonia and was fascinated by how deeply the magickal roots ran in Loren Brae. As was I. He'd asked me more about my mom and my gran and brought up the question of whether one of them had maybe had magick as well.

Despite my lack of knowledge, instead of feeling threatened or trying to tell me what to do with my gift, he asked intelligent questions and listened when I answered. I was beginning to think we would make a really good team.

"Also, I have a fun project for us."

"Does it involve your mesh bra that I love?" Ramsay leaned against the table.

"It could," I said, my brain immediately leaving the work train and hopping on the sex train.

He laughed and gestured for me to go on.

That was something I'd noticed. Ramsay laughed more now. He wasn't as uptight, and he'd let me start making changes to the shop, allowing more clients in. I was starting to feel like I was finally finding my footing here. Our first round of designs were almost finished to show Sophie, but I wanted to add in one more extra touch.

"Let's go sit by the fire."

It had become my favorite part of the day, cozying in by the fire, tossing design ideas back and forth, and I looked forward to this time with him. Ramsay had warned me the fire wouldn't be lit in the summer, but maybe I'd be able to convince him to light a candle to at least set the cozy mood that I so craved.

"Okay, sooooo, I know we're almost done with the designs, at least for presentation purposes, but since we haven't actually settled on our top tartan patterns, I thought I'd introduce an idea."

"Unicorns?" Ramsay raised an eyebrow at me, and I laughed. He leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, and steepled his fingers as he watched me with an intensity that had my thoughts scattering. Bringing it back, I tapped the screen of my iPad and brought up a website.

"Did you know that you can design and trademark your very own tartan pattern?" I asked, looking at him with excitement.

His lips twitched.

"Right. Duh. Of course you know that. You're a kiltmaker. And Scottish. This is your job. So, yeah, well, I thought…could we make one for MacAlpine Castle? Together."

"Hmmm." Ramsay brought his fingers under his chin, his eyes distant as he considered it. "The castle has a family tartan."

"Right, it does. But it's connected to the family name, right? Not to the MacAlpine name?"

"Correct."

"Look at this website. You can bring up all the tartan patterns, riff on them, or start from scratch with your own. You can even submit the pattern for commercial use after. Want to give it a go? Just for fun? See if we land on anything good?"

"Of course we'd land on something good. Everything you design is brilliant."

My heart stilled at his words.

"You really mean that?"

"Aye. You're extremely talented."

I blinked at him, and my heart trembled in my chest before it tumbled off the cliff into love. God, I loved this grumpy, impossibly handsome, steadfast man. I knew it was too soon to tell him that, so I just looked down at the iPad, heat flooding my cheeks.

"Thank you," I said softly, not realizing how much I'd needed to hear those words. My father had always supported me, but in sort of a bewildered way, and my brother had demanded I leave this career on more than one occasion. To have a man I cared about, particularly someone who was successful in the industry, compliment me in such a manner made my heart swell.

"You should be proud of yourself, Willow. And I do think these designs are going to be popular with the tourists, though I'm not sure how I feel about the bum bags."

"Fanny packs," I grumbled.

"Bum bags. Or the pet bowties."

"Those are going to sell like hotcakes," I promised him.

"Nobody is going to buy a tartan bowtie for their dog."

"Everyone is going to buy a tartan bowtie for their dog. Are you kidding me? Haven't you seen how cute Sir Buster looks in his kilt?"

Ramsay rolled his eyes.

"Laugh all you will, but I'm going to win that bet." We'd put money down on whether the tartan dog and cat collars would be one of the bestsellers, that is if Sophie agreed to stock them, and I was certain I'd win.

Ramsay grunted, but his eyes twinkled.

"All right, lass. Show me your program."

Two hours later we'd hammered out a pattern we both liked, in red, grey, black, and white with the tiniest thread of blue running through. Sitting back in my chair, I smiled, pleased with the result.

"I dig it."

"It's nice. Even though I had to pull you back from pink."

"What's wrong with pink?"

"It's not exactly a traditional kilt color."

"I suppose." I poked his chest. "Look at us. Agreeing on things. Designing together. Working together. And here you wanted nothing to do with me when I first arrived."

"I still have my moments. If you change my music one more time…" Ramsay held a fist in the air and I laughed. "Right, then. I've got a meeting with Sheila to go over some store plans."

"I'll finish up here."

"Dinner later?"

"Mmm, can we do takeout? I need to finish my outfit for the cèilidh." The dance was tomorrow night, and all of Loren Brae was in a tizzy about it. It had been a long, cold winter, and with the Kelpies continuing to keep the tourism industry at an all-time low, the dance was a bright spot for everyone.

For me, as well.

I was part of this community now too.

People weren't so scared to come in the shop anymore, I was beginning to learn the names of the locals, and I'd even been invited to join a book club at Agnes's bookstore. I didn't read much, but when I was told audiobooks counted, I agreed to join. The first book was a vampire romance, and I idly wondered how Ramsay would feel about having some romance played at the shop. I grinned, imagining his glowering as I asked, and modified one of the dog collars to have a tartan floral rosette instead of a bow. Picking up my scissors, I cut a swatch of fabric to see if I could fashion a rosette.

Flames licked up the walls and I gasped, dropping the scissors.

I looked around, but where it had been daytime, it was now night, and the room had changed enough for me to know I was smack dab in a vision.

A horrible one at that.

Heat singed my skin, and I jumped up, turning in a circle, panic clenching my gut as fire ravaged the shop.

A man's voice cried for help. I turned to go, to see where it came from, and ran into something hard.

"Willow." The voice was sharp, a command, and I came to with a start, realizing Ramsay was shaking me.

"Oh my God, oh no," I cried, gripping his arms, panic still holding me in its clutches.

"Shhh, calm down. Tell me what happened." Ramsay ran his hands up and down my arms, soothing me, and I swallowed, trying to find the words.

"I … I had another vision. I think. Oh my God, Ramsay. It's the shop. The shop was on fire."

At that Ramsay stiffened, his face going hard, his eyes darting around the room.

"Walk me through it."

"It was…it was so fast. It was night. That's how I knew I was in a vision and that the fireplace hadn't suddenly erupted." I wiped a hand across my brow where sweat had sprung, and Ramsay grabbed my hand.

"Look."

A dark wash of soot coated the backs of my hands and I grimaced, long threads of worry unraveling inside me.

"I didn't see much else. There were flames everywhere. I heard a man's voice call for help, and I was running…that way I guess? I needed to find him."

"Did you see anything else that might indicate a time? A date on your iPad? Was there a fire in the fireplace? Snow outside?" Ramsay ticked off the points, his face deadly serious.

"No, nothing that I can recall." I shook my head, furious that I didn't have more information to give him.

"Here, sit. Let me get you a glass of water." He nudged me back into the chair, pressed a kiss against the top of my hair.

"Incredible. Your hair even smells like smoke."

"I'm scared," I whispered, tracing a finger against the soot on my skin.

"One sec." Ramsay hurried away and then returned, depositing Calvin in my lap, and handing me a cup of water. Then he crouched at my feet. Calvin, sensing my distress, butted his head against my chin, and I stroked his soft fur. "Listen, I know this place looks cozy and rustic, but I've got all the modern things here. I have Nest alarms set up, ring cameras, all the bells and whistles. If you burn a piece of toast, the alarm will go off."

"Okay." I blew out a breath and then took a very long, slow inhale. "I mean, we can't know that all of my visions come true, right?"

"We don't. But even if it's true, we can't just live on edge, you ken? We have to leave the shop. And I've done all the precautions I can to protect the space. There's nothing that can be done unless you can think about anything else that might help. Do you think you can drop back into the vision?"

"I have no idea. I can try."

"What do you need from me?"

"I don't know. Maybe, just, go back into the other room again? I'll try to replicate what I was doing?"

"Good luck. I'll be right here."

I waited until he'd walked into the other room, and then picked up my iPad. Led Zeppelin played in the background as I continued to sketch. But even when I tried to put myself back into the vision, nothing happened. I emptied my brain, forcing myself to just focus on the sketch, but still no dice. Frustrated, I put the iPad down, cupped Calvin in my arms, and stood. Striding across the room to the window, I looked out across Loch Mirren. The sky was moody today, as it was most days, and I found myself transfixed on the island far out in the water. The wind was high enough today that tinges of white capped the waves, and the grey clouds moved at a fast clip across the sky. The sun filtered through the clouds, an occasional ray spearing the loch, and I stroked Calvin's coat as I tried to push down the worry.

Intellectually, I understood that Ramsay was right. There wasn't much I could do about protecting the shop, and I hadn't been able to give him any helpful details. Heavy footfalls sounded, and I sighed as Ramsay's arms came around my waist, pulling my back to his chest.

"Anything?"

"Nope."

"Would it make you feel better if we moved some of our important stuff out? To your place? Just in case?"

"I think so, yeah. Just to be on the safe side? Maybe we stay at my place?"

"I'm fine with that, if it makes you feel better."

"I don't know what's better. To be on site if a fire starts or to be away?"

"Again. Alarms. They'll alert me quickly. I'd be more comfortable keeping you at the castle."

"Keeping me," I snorted, turning to look up at him, "like a maiden in the tower."

"Do you need rescuing, darling?" Ramsay leaned down, stealing my answer with his lips.

I didn't need rescuing, no, but somehow, I felt like Ramsay had managed to do so anyway. I'd been lost, and landing here, with him, had given me a foundation that I hadn't known I'd needed. That being said, this was still so new, and I had a habit of jumping into things headfirst without looking for a safe landing. I needed to remind myself to take this day by day or soon I'd be designing my wedding dress before the man even told me he loved me.

We needed to speak to Miles. That would be a good first step.

"I have to hop on that call." Ramsay backed up, brushing a thumb across my lip, and smiled softly. "Don't worry, Willow. I'll take care of you."

That's what part of me was afraid of. I was supposed to take care of myself, wasn't I? To prove I could do this on my own? Torn between wanting to prove to everyone that I could be a successful designer in my own right and loving this budding professional collaboration I had going with Ramsay, I watched him walk away, worry still hovering in my heart.