Page 61 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“Sweet Saint Andrew, it looks even worse by daylight,” his sister said, lifting her skirts to carefully pick her way through the rubble.
“I’ll have a new one up before ye know it,” Ranulf returned, pulling off a glove to scratch Una behind the ears.
She nodded, glancing at him then away again. So far as he remembered, they’d parted on good terms both after the dinner and fire, and then yesterday when he’d returned Charlotte home. Whatever was unsettling her, he didn’t think he’d done it.
He stepped over a pile of wood, shedding his other glove and dropping them both onto a barrel. “Fancy a sit in my garden?” he asked, offering her an arm.
“I am not holding on to you,” she commented, wrinkling her nose. “You’re filthy.”
“Then I suppose ye don’t want me kissing yer cheek, either.” With a grin he motioned her to precede him up the short path to the walled-in garden.
“This is pretty. Did I tell you that?”
“Aye.”
“Oh. Well, it is.”
“Thank ye.”
She wandered about for a minute, then took a seat in one of the wrought-iron chairs beneath the big elm tree in the center of the flowery plantings. Ranulf dragged the other chair closer and sat down facing her.
“Now that we’re finished with the pleasantries,” he drawled, “what’s amiss?”
“Amiss? Nothing’s amiss. Why would you say that?” she returned, fiddling with her skirt.
“Because ye’re here, fer one thing. And because ye can’t seem to look me in the eye. Last time ye did that, it was because ye’d decided to freshen my bed with lavender, and dumped an entire bottle of scent into the middle of the mattress.”
Rowena laughed. “It smelled very pretty, after three days with the windows open.”
“And I still cannae abide lavender. So what brings ye here, Rowena? I thought ye’d be shopping, or having a coze with yer new friends.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “You’re my brother. Do I need an excuse to come see you?”
“Nae. But if ye had one, what would it be?”
Abruptly Una seemed to need a sound belly rub, because Rowena sank down in the grass to give her one. A prickle of uneasiness stole through Ranulf’s skin. His sister was thirteen years his junior. And in her entire life she’d never hesitated to talk to him about anything. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be anything pleasant.
“The Hanovers are very nice, aren’t they?” she finally offered, her gaze still on the happily wriggling hound.
Was that it? Did she wish to live with them permanently? His heart clenched, but he took a short breath to cover it. “Aye, they are.”
“I’m glad Lady Hanover and Jane kept in touch with me for all those years. It was nothing they were obligated to do.”
Yes, they’d been so friendly that she’d felt comfortable fleeing her home to come stay with them. But they were also Charlotte’s family, and so he wasn’t going to say anything ill about them. “Why wouldn’t they wish to correspond with ye, Rowena? Ye’re a bonny lass.”
“I didn’t know anything about Charlotte’s fiancé being killed in a stupid duel. I didn’t even know she’d been engaged. That was very sad, wasn’t it?”
“Aye.” Though he doubted he’d ever find himself weeping tears over James Appleton’s demise.
She glanced up at him, then down again. “Did you like the museum yesterday?”
“I liked it well enough.”
“I didn’t think Charlotte would speak to you again, after that fight at the Evanstone soiree. But since you went sightseeing together, I suppose she’s forgiven you.”
Ranulf frowned. “Berling tried to push at me, and I shoved back harder. There’s nothing I need to be forgiven for.”
“But you are friends, aren’t you?”
