Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 183663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 918(@200wpm)___ 735(@250wpm)___ 612(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 918(@200wpm)___ 735(@250wpm)___ 612(@300wpm)
“Hey, Holly. How’d last night go?”
I’m on my way from the education centre to the kitchen, mainly to pull off another of last night’s Band-Aids by clearing the air with Chrissy when a nearby ride on mower cuts out, Cameron calling out to me.
My white knight on a mower? I don’t think so. Even if he is nearer my age.
“I guess it went,” I call back, wrapping the sides of my hoodie tighter across my body. So, I guess he hasn’t heard the gossip yet. Maybe he won’t, given the fact that Mari wasn’t there. I can’t see Chrissy or Mr McCain saying anything and the rest of the staff working last night don’t really know me. Except maybe Sophie. Wee Sophie. Will she spill the beans about us being in the library?
I watch as Cameron turns off the mower and hops off, making his way over to me in great lolloping strides.
“What’s funny?” he asks with a wide smile and windblown rosy cheeks.
I give a tiny shake of my head. Nothing except he reminds me of an overgrown puppy. In a totally good way.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last night,” I offer again as my conscience tweaks. One man offered to take me out, and another got me into bed. Or maybe that should be the other way around? Either way, it sounds worse than it is.
“Och, no bother.”
Okay, so he’s not pining for me, which is good, but that wasn’t the most flattering of responses. As he begins to shift his weight from one foot to the other, it becomes painfully obvious he isn’t going to offer to take me out some other time.
Maybe he does know, comes my immediate thought. Maybe he doesn’t want to tread on his boss’s boots. Not that it matters, I guess. There’s no way I could make him the piggy in the middle of this clusterphuck. I can’t see how Cameron would stand a chance, even if he was interested in me. Which he’s clearly not. Not much, anyway. And I’m not even talking about their stations in life: Cameron, the gardener, versus Alexander Dalforth, the Duke. Or even Cameron the gardener who is the employee of the duke. I’m thinking more about their temperaments because one reminds me of a Labrador and the other a jungle cat. So I guess I can write off using dating Cameron as a decoy or a shield if the need ever arises. Not that I’d considered that as an option up until now.
But that’s a thought, I guess. A thought to explore some other time that isn’t now. And now . . . now I’m considering someone else.
“Did you still go? To the pub, I mean?” Someone has to keep this conversation going, I guess.
“Aye, it was Friday,” he replies in the tone of of course I did. “I went with Moses.” He pushes back his cap and ruffles a hand through his hair.
“Moses?” I repeat, struggling to hold back my smile. “I don’t think I’ve met him. Does he work at the castle?”
“Nah, he’s just one of the guys I went to school with. Before you ask, his family is no’ religious. He just wore sandals to school once, and the name has stuck ever since.”
“That’s kind of brutal,” I reply with a giggle. “Especially for a place where men wear skirts.” My heart lurches a little as an image flashed through my head of Alexander wearing his. And how little he wore under it.
“You know why it’s called a kilt?” Cameron asks, a touch mischievously. “Because that’s what happened to the last person who called it a skirt.”
“What? I don’t get it.”
“They were kilt,” he says with faux menace.
“Oh. Now I get it. No kilt jokes in front of a Scotsman.” Cameron watches me for a beat, and I get the sense he’s considering something. And something might just add to my list of current complications, flattery be damned. “Well, I’d better get to it,” I say brightly, lifting my gaze to a wide blue sky. There’s no rain today, just an abundance of brilliant sky.
“Aye. Me, too, I suppose.” He pulls his old man’s cap down, twisting the brim a little.
“See you around.” I turn with a wave.
“Holly?”
The way he says my name stops me in my tracks, bringing my shoulders up around my ears. What now? I don’t turn fully, looking over my shoulder instead.
“Yeah?”
“Did you say Mari was ill yesterday?”
“Yeah. That’s why I couldn’t go to the pub with you. There are guests at the castle, and Chrissy needed me to pitch in.” Which is mostly the truth, I guess. But the rest? I’m not so sure it was fate.
“That’s weird because she was in the pub last night.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I say with a shrug. Apart from that, Mari has it in for me, I think. “She’s not here this morning, either.”