Wake Me With a Kiss: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Regency Fairy Twists Book 1) (5 page)

Hamish rubbed a hand across his freshly shaven chin. He felt about as vulnerable
as a newborn bairn without the stubble. He took a tour around the dining room
and admired the fresh flowers and the elegant table settings. Who could believe
that a year ago, when he was sleeping in a tent to the sound of cannon fire,
that he would end up here, dining with the good folk of Baleith.

And Rose.

He smiled. Helping her aunt had been a stroke of luck. Not for Mrs.
Merriweather perhaps but for himself. It had made it impossible for her to
refuse his invitation, meaning he could have more time with Rose. If he could
prove himself tonight, perhaps she would give him permission to court her.

That was his intention, to be certain. Rose was clever, sweet, and
funny. He wanted—nay, needed—to get to know her better.

A few more kisses would not hurt either.

Not tonight, though. Tonight he was intent on proving he was far more
than a highland barbarian. The other families could hang, he couldn’t care less
what they thought of him, but he grudgingly admitted the show would not hurt
his cause of settling into the area. He had discovered much of his cousin’s
business dealings had been with local families of wealth, so he would have to
continue to nurture those relationships as best as he could.

He glanced down at his formal attire. He would not be abandoning his
kilt, however, regardless of how others saw him. There was only so much a highlander
would do for approval.

“How do I look?”

He pivoted to see Marianne in the doorway. By some miracle, he’d avoided
her the past few days, though there had been the recent incident where she had
conjured up some nightmare as an excuse to slip into his room in her nightgown.
Needless to say, she had been swiftly escorted out.

In dark green silk and capped sleeves, she did look beautiful. However,
her beauty could hardly mask the scheming glint in her eyes. He took a step
forward, his jaw tight.

“Did I no’ say ye wouldnae be attending tonight?”

The pulse fluttered in her neck. “I dinnae recall.”

“How do ye think it would look for me to have ye attend?”

“Are ye ashamed of me?”

“Aye, ashamed my cousin ever took ye for a mistress.”

Eyes wide, she staggered back slightly as though about to fall into a
faint. He ignored the movement. He had been patient for long enough. Now she
intended to invade the dinner party that was to secure his chance with Rose and
introduce him to the rest of the local families? He would not stand for it. As
soon as he had made his intentions toward Rose clear, he would be marching down
to Edinburgh and speaking with his lawyers. As much as he wanted to respect his
cousin’s wishes—if he even had any toward Marianne—he could not abide her under
his roof any longer.

“I have housed and fed ye for some time now, Marianne. It is past time
for ye to leave.”

“But Malcolm—”

“Is dead. And he didnae make his wishes clear. I have offered ye a
generous amount in my cousin’s name but still ye willnae leave.”

“Hamish, please…I could keep ye company. I could make ye happy.” She
slunk forward, the silk gown swishing. “I made Malcolm happy. I know I can make
ye happy too.” A sultry pout pursed her lips. “I am very experienced. I could
pleasure ye for hours, Hamish. Hours and hours.”

She reached out to put a hand to his chest, and he grabbed her wrist. “I
have no interest in ye, Marianne. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye shall stay
out of sight tonight. Ye’ll have a week to leave and I shall ensure ye are
paid, for Malcolm’s sake, but ye’ll get nothing more from me.”

Her bottom lip trembled. She eyed his hand curled around her wrist.

In a sudden, unexpected movement, she brought her other hand across his
face. The sharp sting merely made his breaths hotter. He took her hand when she
lifted it again.

“Yer lucky I’m a gentleman.”

“Yer no gentleman,” she hissed. “Ye never will be. Yer just a highland
soldier. Ye will never fit in here, never be worthy of the title of laird.” She
tried to tug her wrists from his grip, but he held her tight.

“I dinnae wish to see ye again tonight, Marianne,” he told her, his
voice low. “And if ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll stay out of sight for the
next week too, until I return from Edinburgh. Then ye’ll have yer payment and
ye’ll be gone. Do ye understand?”

Her chin quivered. “That is all I get, is it? A payment and I am cast
out like old shoes. I gave the best years of my life to Malcolm. Gave him my
body, my beauty. Now what do I have? Nothing. I am old and penniless. What hope
is there for me?”

He snorted. “Ye’ll be paid well enough. Find yerself some other
desperate old man to take advantage of. I am sure there are many out there willing
to overlook yer age.”

“Bastard,” she hissed.

Hamish released her and she staggered back.

“Dinnae let me see ye again, Marianne. I might forget my generosity.”

She glared at him for a moment before dashing away. Hamish took the
chance to inhale several deep breaths and calm himself. He should not have let
this go on so long. His duties be damned, he should have gone to Edinburgh as
soon as he’d discovered her presence here and arranged with his lawyers to
ensure she never returned. It was either that or bodily throw her out, but as
much as she protested otherwise, he was a gentleman and he had no desire to see
the scheming woman rot on the streets. If his cousin did indeed care for her at
all, he had to at least ensure she was looked after—though perhaps not to the
luxurious degree she wanted.

By the time he had calmed himself, his first guests arrived. Several
others joined them, being somewhat fashionably late. When Rose and her aunt
finally turned up, they were more than fashionably late but he could not be at
all put out by it. Not when he set eyes on Rose.

The pale column of her gown brought out the golden highlights in her
hair. She had it coiled high with several ringlets scattered around her face
and neck. Tiny white blossoms were scattered amongst the curls along with a
glimmering comb tucked in at the back that caught the lamp light.

She smiled at him, and he could have sworn he nearly toppled over. As
she approached, he had to press his hand to his side to keep it from trembling.

“You are spectacular,” he whispered before the aunt joined them. Her shy
smile in response made his heart trip over itself.

“Mrs. Merriweather, I am so glad ye could join us.”

“Well, goodness…” She waved her fan “…we nearly did not make it. One of
the horses had not been shoed properly and there was quite a rush trying to
ensure she was.”

“Yer here now, and that’s all that matters.”

His gaze connected with Rose’s. He had so many things he wanted to tell
her but could not. How wonderful she looked. How he could not decide if he preferred
her delicately styled hair or the wild look she usually sported. Or if he
admired her clean, smooth cheeks more than the dirt-streaked ones.

In truth, he adored both looks.

“You look very handsome,” she managed to whisper while her aunt admired
the grand hall.

With high ceilings and a balcony running all the way around the edge of
the second level, it was a taste of medieval that all guests admired. The
wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling by a long rope, casting the room
in flickering light.

“This is wonderful, my laird,” Mrs. Merriweather exclaimed.

He noted he was no longer Hamish. Hopefully that was merely to do with
the company rather than a mark of her feelings toward him.

“Have ye never been in the great hall, Mrs. Merriweather?”

“No. I have been inside the castle but once and only the entranceway.”

“I trust ye shall take the opportunity to explore the castle while ye
are visiting. It was built in the thirteenth century and has changed little
since, save for a few modern renovations.”

“Oh, Rose adores history. We shall certainly take a look around. She has
recently been reading about some of the great battles of Scotland, particularly
those in the Highlands. I am sure you can tell her a thing or two.”

Rose dropped her gaze to the floor. Lord, he adored the way she blushed
so obviously. It could not be called a delicate blush as it swept over her from
her cheeks to her forehead, but it was such a tell of her feelings. She could
never connive or plot like Marianne. Everyone would know instantly she had
lied.

“Aye, ye said ye were reading about Scottish history. Cousin Malcolm
kept quite a history of the castle in the library. If we have time, I shall
have to show ye it all.”

“We would be delighted,” her aunt said, gracefully.

As much as he knew Rose could not be left alone, he wanted her alone. He
needed just a brief moment. That was all.

His attention was drawn reluctantly away by some of his other guests,
and he spent much of the evening wishing he could be by Rose’s side but
horribly aware he could not show her too much attention—not yet. If he was going
to prove himself something other than a boorish highlander, he would do things
right.

Even over dinner, he managed to keep his distance. Her aunt was on one
side of him and a Lady Gladstone was on the other. He devoted his attention to
them equally but not without the occasional glance toward Rose. He noted
several other gentlemen spared her a few glances. Most were married men, but
the few who were not were certainly vying for her attention.

He curled a hand around the stem of his wine glass and forced a smile.
Hamish had to admit, being a boorish highlander had its advantages in the past.
Had he encountered a similar situation, he might have stood up, warned the men
off, and dragged Rose away.

However, Rose deserved better than that, and he would not ruin what they
had for anything.

He hardly remembered a morsel he ate. The tang of the lemon cream
lingered in his mouth, but he could barely recall swallowing it. Once dinner
was finished, they moved back into the great hall and one of the ladies deigned
it time to take to the piano. He had not really planned on dancing though he
had attended enough officers’ balls to know most parties turned to dancing
eventually, even if they had the most mediocre piano players amongst them.

He offered his hand to Mrs. Merriweather who shied away and suggested he
dance with her niece. Keeping the grin from his face proved difficult. He could
not have planned it better.

As they weaved through the moves to the minuet, Hamish relished each
brush of their hands. “I have missed ye,” he murmured.

“I have been here all evening,” she said with a teasing smile.

“And yet I have barely been able to say two words to ye.”

“You are quite in demand, are you not, Laird McTavish?”

“Aye.” He chuckled. “Did ye no’ know I am the talk o’ the town?”

“Really? And here I had not heard a thing of you until we met.”

“Och, ye hadnae been listening properly. That’s yer problem, lass.”

They moved apart as the couples came down the line, and they weaved
about the others before meeting again. “Ye dance well for a highlander,” she
remarked.

“And ye dance well for a country lass.”

“I taught myself. Mrs. Shaw and Miss Taylor were frightfully sick of
being dragged into my pretend balls as a child.”

“Ye have never danced at any balls?”

She shook her head. “My aunt would not allow it.”

“I hope,” he said sincerely, “that she will allow ye more dances in the future.”

“I hope so too. I think she is thoroughly charmed by you. You could probably
ask anything of her and she would accept.”

“I dinnae think I have ever managed to charm anyone.”

A soft smile graced her lips. “Well, you have charmed two people of
late.”

It had been
impossibly hard to keep her attention on anyone but Hamish. He looked so
incredibly handsome in his regimental jacket and kilt. With his jaw clean shaven,
his hair slightly tamed, he made Rose’s heart stutter every time he glanced her
way.

And, goodness, they had danced together. For the first time in her life,
she had danced with a man.

She had danced with other men too, but Hamish had been her first, and
best. Honestly, she never wanted the night to end.

It would soon enough, however. A few guests had already left and though some
danced, a couple were showing signs of weariness. Her aunt May remained propped
in the corner with a glass of punch, seeming very at home speaking with Lady
Gladstone. The woman was of a similar age to Aunt May, and it made Rose smile
to see the two women gossiping. It had never occurred to her that her aunt
might wish to spend more time with other people. It had always seemed that her
aunt was content with isolating herself—and her niece along with her. Perhaps
she could persuade her aunt to spend more time with some of their neighbors.

“Come here.”

She whirled and Hamish took her hand, dragging her away from the hall
and into a recess by one of the windows. They were out of sight but not
technically out of the room.

“Hamish!” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”

And, oh, how he continued to. Her pulse beat like galloping horse hooves
at his proximity. She could smell the faintest hint of soap and see the scar on
his neck. One day she would ask him about that.

“We should not be alone,” she whispered, glancing around his large body
to see if anyone could see them.

“Just for a moment. No one will notice, I swear.”

“But, Hamish…”

“I had to see ye alone, Rose. It’s been a torturous night.”

She smiled and nodded her agreement. It had. All she had wanted to do
was throw herself into his arms and receive his kisses.

“Thank you for inviting us. Even Aunt May has enjoyed herself.”

“I’m glad, but ye know I only had one reason for even hosting this
debacle.”

“You did?”

“Aye. It was ye, lass. I wanted a chance to invite ye here, to show ye
my home and…”

“And…”

“Well, kiss ye if I got the damned chance.” He dropped his lips quickly
to hers, the warm touch so fleeting that she was hardly sure it had happened
yet a soft sensation budded inside her.

“A dinner party all for one kiss. Goodness, you must be desperate.”

“Och, I am.” He shook his head. “Ye have no idea.”

He eyed her for a moment, searching deep in her gaze. Rose was held
captive. Unable to move, unable to think. He dropped another kiss on her lips before
glancing around.

“I should like to court ye, Rose.”

She started at him for some time, the words ringing around in her head.
A few weeks ago she could not have imagined a braw highlander, or any man for
that matter, wishing to court her. Now this was happening…she resisted the
desire to pinch herself.

“Rose?”

“Forgive me. You took me by surprise.”

“I would have thought I’d made my feelings clear by now. I dinnae go
around kissing every woman, ye know.”

“Yes, I think I do. I simply meant things have happened so quickly. I
could not have conceived you asking me such things not long ago.”

“They have happened quickly, but I am no’ a man to waste my time. In
battle, I made decisions quickly. I saw lives taken away by indecision. I have
no wish to miss out on happiness because I couldnae make a decision swiftly. I
know what I want, Rose, and it’s ye.”

She reached to touch the lapel of his jacket, focusing her gaze on the
gold trim there for a moment, allowing herself a brief respite from his intense
gaze.

“No one has over spoken to me so.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I should
very much like you to court me.”

His grin expanded. “I shall call on yer aunt soon and speak with her.”

“I am sure she will have no objections.”

“Hopefully not or else I shall have to find some other thief to tackle.”

A scream drew Hamish’s attention from her. He whipped his head around and
groaned. A dog barked.

“Rupert,” they both said.

Hamish darted out of the alcove, and Rose waited but a moment before
following suit. The dog ran from person to person, scrabbling up gowns and
breeches and generally causing chaos. Drinks spilled and women cried out.
Rupert knocked over a candelabra as Hamish tried to grab him.

The dog sprinted past, toward her. Rose put out her hands in invitation
but the dog, in spite of hardly being that large, refused to slow down and
caught her so that she tumbled to the floor. Rupert barreled on, buoyed with
excitement at the sight of all these people in his home. He did a few more laps
of the hall whilst Hamish aided Rose to her feet, then Rupert darted out of the
doorway into the entrance hall.

Hamish cursed. “I dinnae ken how he got out. He was meant to be locked
upstairs. I knew he’d be too excited.”

“You had better see if you can catch him.”

He sighed and nodded, leaving the room. Aunt May came to join her. “Are
you all right, my dear?”

“Yes, just a little tumble.”

“What a wild dog.”

“He’s just a little excitable.” Rose frowned and glanced up as something
caught her eye. A woman stood on the balcony, a twisted smile on her face as
she watched everyone below. Dressed in emerald green, she looked ready for the
party yet she had not seen her once. Rose recognized her as the late laird’s
mistress, but what was she still doing here? She caught Rose staring and her
bitter smile deepened before she turned and entered the upper chambers. What
was she doing in Hamish’s castle?

Most of the guests were readying to leave after the dog had put an end
to the dance. Aunt May took her arm. “We should think of leaving too.”

“I would like to make sure Rupert is well.”

Her aunt sighed. “Very well. Let me say farewell to Lady Gladstone
before she goes.”

Rose nodded absently and stared at the doorway where the woman had
vanished. Something about her unnerved Rose.

By the time Hamish had returned to the Great Hall, all had left apart
from her and Aunt May. He grimaced. “My guests likely think me rude.”

“Not at all. I think everyone has had an excellent evening,” Aunt May
assured.

“Rupert slipped out of the castle. I fear he’ll run off again.”

“Perhaps he will return in the morning,” her aunt suggested.

“The mutt is daft, unfortunately. When he gets over-excited there’s no
telling what he will do.”

“We should go look for him,” Rose announced, touched by the worry
grooved deep into his brow. “I will help.”

Aunt May scowled. “It’s getting cold out, Rose, and likely to rain.”

“Aye, I cannae ask ye to risk yer health for a dog, but I will have to
search for him. I apologize for my rudeness, but I cannae leave him out there.”

“Aunt,” Rose pressed. There was no chance she was leaving Hamish to look
for him on his own.

“Oh, very well.” She pulled off her shawl. “Wrap this about you and be
careful.”

Rose nodded and did as she was told, bundling the shawl tight about her
shoulders.

“I could find ye a jacket though I fear it would drown ye,” he offered.

“Yes, it would and likely hinder me more than anything. I will be well
enough. It is not the first time I have been out in the cold.”

He nodded. “I’ll be but a moment.”

When he returned, he was wearing a thick, practical jacket and tatty
boots. Although she missed the elegance of his regimental wear, she rather
liked the plain look. It reminded her of when she had first met him. He held
the lamp in his hand aloft, and they set out together calling his name.

“Damned dog,” he muttered as they paused to listen for any sign of him.

Rose glanced back at the castle, the windows aglow against the inky
blackness of the hills. “However did he get out?”

“None of the servants would have let him out, not on purpose at least.
They know well enough the chaos he can cause. He must have slipped out.”

Rose longed to ask about the woman. She had an inkling it had been her
who had let him out and she had come to watch the mess he caused, but it didn’t
seem the right time whilst he was fretting over the dog.

“Rupert!” he bellowed.

They trudged along farther, getting nearer to the forest. “You do not
suppose he has gone to Aunt May’s house, do you?”

“He could have done, but I dinnae think he would have the sense to
follow the scent. Each time he’s dashed off, I’ve found him somewhere else.”

“Rupert is a mischief.”

“Aye, that is one way of putting it.”

“How would you put it?”

“A pain in the arse.”

She laughed. “That too.” They stopped again. Though the night was dark,
the lamp cast enough glow for them to see through the trees. “Perhaps we should
check around the castle first. If he has gone to my aunt’s house, we will find
him when we return.”

“Aye. I’ll see ye ladies home, and we can see if we dinnae find Rupert
somewhere in the fields.”

“Why Rupert, Hamish? It is hardly a dog-like name.”

“I served with a Rupert in my first year of fighting. He was a good man
and taught me a lot. He died at the Siege of San Sebastian.”

“I am sorry.” She pressed a hand over her mouth. “I should not have said
anything. I meant no insult to your friend’s memory.”

He shook his head. “Och, I know ye would never mean any harm. Yer a good
lass, Rose. I do wish the damned dog hadn’t taken on some of the man’s traits
though. He was known for getting over-exited at balls too.”

As they made their way back to the keep, a light spatter of rain started
up. Rose grimaced. Drops hung on her delicately curled hair, near dragging them
to the ground. And to think how Miss Taylor had so diligently helped her. While
the rain increased, her hair drooped ever lower and began to stick to her face.

“We had better make haste,” Hamish said, tugging off his evening jacket
and slinging it over her shoulders.

Though the rain had soaked through her spencer and gown, the instant
warmth of the thick material and the scent of Hamish washed over her. She
huddled deeper into the heavy, large garment.

He offered her a hand as large puddles developed on the ground. Droplets
hung from her lashes and the skies were utterly steel grey. Ahead the castle
looked tantalizingly close, but the sodden ground clung onto her slippers like
a deadly sea creature trying to drag her to her doom. Her satin slippers were
ruined and next to useless in this weather. How she longed for her half-boots.

Her next step forward saw her ankle deep in a puddle. She let out a
groan. Hamish put an arm about her waist and hauled her out. There went her
slipper. She eyed the pale pink satin before it vanished under the boggy
ground.

“I fear it is gone.”

Rose nodded, glanced up at him, and giggled. Droplets hung from his brim
and trailed down his nose. He looked exceedingly handsome. The rain had only
darkened his hair, curling the locks at the base of his neck. His skin somehow
suited being damp. The entire event merely added an air of attractiveness to
him.

Whilst she…Rose peered down at herself…had fallen victim to the weather
most horribly. Mud trailed up her white gown. Splatters of it had reached as
far as her bodice. She was now missing a shoe and her hair clung close to her
head. Any semblance of attractiveness or beauty was gone.

He eyed her for a moment, shook his head with a grin, and tugged her
close. They continued up toward the castle, Hamish aiding her across the boggy
grass.

He paused not far from the castle. “Bloody dog.”

The curse came suddenly, and Rose paused with him. When she looked in
the direction of the keep, she saw why.

“Oh goodness.”

Rupert sat on the steps to the castle, tucked under the eaves so that he
was perfectly dry. Rose put a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle.

“Do not be angry at him.”

Hamish gave a huff. “Bloody, bloody dog.” But she saw the smile that
quirked his lips.

They made their way to the steps, and Hamish dropped down onto one next
to Rupert. The dog jumped in excitement, licking Hamish’s face. He laughed and
ruffled the dog’s head.

“Yer a bad boy,” he scolded. “Look what ye’ve done to Rose.”

Rose sat herself next to Rupert and gave him a fuss. “I am not sure
Rupert can be held accountable for the weather.”

Hamish looked at her. His gaze locked onto hers. The steady
pitter-patter of the rain vanished. Her heavy breathing became the only sound
in existence. His gaze fell to her lips, and she could not help do the same.
Every fiber of her being willed him to her, to close the gap, to hold her
close.