His Lass Wears Tartan Read Free Page B

whispered in her ear. “Shouldn’t she be as happy as the two of us?”
    Baillie laughed and headed toward the stairs. “Not at the rate she’s going. She practically tackled that poor boy to the ground. Here I thought grace came from our Baillie side. Must be her Bruce genes are more like NFL linebackers. Not a very romantic introduction to Putney’s choice of beaux for Rogue.”

 Chapter Three
    Rogue watched Aunt Baillie stretch her arms over her head, hooking boughs of silk ivy threaded with white lights across a curtain rod in the library, when the older woman stepped on the edge of her dress and lost her balance off the six-foot ladder. A split-second “
That is really going to hurt
,” thought ran through Rogue’s mind during what seemed like a slow-motion tumble from some movie.
    In a sudden stop barely a foot from the carpet, her aunt hung suspended, arms flailing. She blinked frantically, her mouth gaping open, as her body slowly righted and set down.
    “I be grateful, Uncle Kai. Dinna ken Auntie’s decorations were a wee bit dangerous.” Rogue put her hands on her hips.
    Baillie gulped in precious air. “Your uncle says you’re welcome, my dear.” Her aunt wiggled her toes and hands before looking up into the air. “It’s these long skirts of your era that are the danger zone.” The older woman pointed into the nothingness in front of her. “I’m used to decorating in jeans or sweatpants.”
    “Could’na wait for Uncle’s help, Auntie? I donna think the guests are expecting a blooming garden inside the castle.”
    Baillie wrapped her arms upward in a circle and kissed nothing Rogue could see.
    “I willna ask if ya need a bit of time alone, you two,” she said with a giggle. “We’ve too much to do.” Rogue loved the shades of flush on her aunt’s cheeks. “Uncle Kai, may I burden ya to help her hang the lights then bring in the boxes of floral arrangements so we may finish this room more safely?”
    Baillie moved the ladder, and a strand of thick greenery rose toward the curtain rod, making short work of completing the higher decorations. Once Baillie stepped off the ladder, boxes floated into the room, a few setting down in various areas.
    “I thank ye, Uncle.” Rogue made a silly curtsy, she hoped in the ghost’s direction. “A bit frustrating never seeing at least a glimpse of ya once in a while.”
    “Sometimes I wish you could as well, Rogue. He’s such a fine-looking, uh, uncle.”
    Her aunt’s arms again angled upward, leaning her body into nothing. Rogue made a snort and turned her back on the lovebirds.
    An hour or so later, Rogue wiped her hands on the edges of her apron as she stacked empty boxes to be returned to storage. She circled the room, enjoying the festive lights and various pastel and brilliant colors in bloom. Never in her wildest dreams as an orphan did spring twinkle and sparkle like this. Spring was barely acknowledged when she was growing up, and now her aunt’s creative magic brought the castle to life as the dark nights grew shorter.
    She plopped down on an overstuffed chair, letting the glittering white lights brighten her heart. The stack of empty boxes glided across the room next to her aunt as she carried on a one-way conversation with Uncle Kai. In a moment, they disappeared through the door.
    Tucking her feet under her skirts, Rogue noticed a delicious waft of sugar and cinnamon in the air before a stuttered clink of china announced someone bringing a tea tray toward her. Good lord. It was Bruce. She straightened herself suddenly, undecided on where to put her hands. Of all the sneaky tricks Putney could pull, sending the hot delivery guy in with tea was a bit much. Hiding a smile behind her hand, she watched the young man strain to keep everything balanced. A twinge of pain in her side from masking the laughter sobered her. She took a deep breath.
    “A wee different from carrying a box of groceries?” Rogue patted the carved wooden table in