give you a fleg?”
Kate was able to muster a smile at the funny word. “A what?” she asked.
“A fleg—a fright.”
Her smile turned to a laugh. “Yes, Finlay,” she told him, “you gave me a wee fleg.”
Finlay chuckled at hearing the Scottish words spoken in an American accent. “Do you want a little longer to finish your meal?” he asked when he saw how much food was left on her plate.
“No,” Kate said, a little too quickly, not wanting to be left alone again with the portrait of Lady Carolyn. “No,”she repeated again more calmly. “I’m full, thanks.”
Finlay grimaced. “Miss Weir likes to see an empty plate, Lady Kate. It’s not quite ‘finish your greens or you won’t get any desert’, but not far off it.”
“You’ll have to help me out, then,” Kate said, sliding the plate across to him and handing over her knife and fork.
Finlay took a seat, gave Kate a conspiratorial grin, and set to work.
“I better leave something or the auld boot’ll get suspicious,” he said several minutes later, reluctantly sparing a morsel of dumpling and a few token chunks of beef.
Kate laughed, then accompanied him through to the kitchen to thank Miss Weir for the meal.
The “auld boot” inspected the remains of the meal, smiled at Kate and said, “You’ve done better than I expected, lass.”
Kate smiled back, but lies and deceit didn’t come easily to her and there was enough guilt in her expression to arouse Miss Weir’s suspicions. Looking from Kate to Finlay, the housekeeper said, “That wouldn’t be gravy on your moustache, now, would it, Finlay McRae?”
Finlay’s hand quickly shot up to his neatly trimmed moustache, the panic in his gesture and the alarm on his face an eloquent admission of guilt.
Kate did her best to come to Finlay’s rescue, saying, “It’s just that there was enough for two, Miss Weir, and it seemed much too good to waste. Besides, I felt silly sitting there all alone. How about if we eat in the kitchen fromnow on, or you two join me in the banquet hall for meals?”
“That’s very kind, but it just wouldn’t seem right,” Miss Weir said.
“It can’t be more wrong than one person eating alone at a table that seats thirty,” Kate said, made uncharacteristically assertive by the fresh memory of eating dinner alone with the portrait of Lady Carolyn.
Miss Weir still looked unconvinced.
“I’ll tell you what—how about if we eat breakfast and lunch here in the kitchen, and dinner together in the hall—how does that sound?”
“Aye, well—”
“Good.” Kate smiled. Turning to Finlay, she said, “There’s a lot of ground to cover tomorrow morning, so I imagine you’ll want an early start. How does eight o’clock sound?”
“It sounds just fine,” Finlay told her.
“Eight o’clock it is, then—I’ll set my alarm.” She was about to leave, but stopped and said, “Finlay, Miss Weir, thanks for making me so welcome. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
With that she walked through the door that led back to the banquet hall, smiling when she heard Finlay say to Miss Weir, “And to think you were worried she was going to be some stuck-up besom who’d be looking down her nose at us.”
Kate was still smiling a few minutes later when she curled up under the covers and drifted off to sleep to the sound of the waterfall far below.
“D O YOU M IND IF HAMISH JOINS US ON OUR WEE JAUNT around the glen?” Finlay asked after breakfast the next morning.
Kate had no idea who Hamish was, but again her mind conjured up images of a kilted Tom Hanks.
They were quickly dispelled when Miss Weir explained: “That’s his wee West Highland Terrier.”
Kate smiled at how wrong she’d been once more, and said, “No, of course not.”
“Good,” Finlay said. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I’ll just nip upstairs and see if he’s awake yet.”
“He spoils that dog something terrible,” Miss Weir said after Finlay left. “He
Kate was able to muster a smile at the funny word. “A what?” she asked.
“A fleg—a fright.”
Her smile turned to a laugh. “Yes, Finlay,” she told him, “you gave me a wee fleg.”
Finlay chuckled at hearing the Scottish words spoken in an American accent. “Do you want a little longer to finish your meal?” he asked when he saw how much food was left on her plate.
“No,” Kate said, a little too quickly, not wanting to be left alone again with the portrait of Lady Carolyn. “No,”she repeated again more calmly. “I’m full, thanks.”
Finlay grimaced. “Miss Weir likes to see an empty plate, Lady Kate. It’s not quite ‘finish your greens or you won’t get any desert’, but not far off it.”
“You’ll have to help me out, then,” Kate said, sliding the plate across to him and handing over her knife and fork.
Finlay took a seat, gave Kate a conspiratorial grin, and set to work.
“I better leave something or the auld boot’ll get suspicious,” he said several minutes later, reluctantly sparing a morsel of dumpling and a few token chunks of beef.
Kate laughed, then accompanied him through to the kitchen to thank Miss Weir for the meal.
The “auld boot” inspected the remains of the meal, smiled at Kate and said, “You’ve done better than I expected, lass.”
Kate smiled back, but lies and deceit didn’t come easily to her and there was enough guilt in her expression to arouse Miss Weir’s suspicions. Looking from Kate to Finlay, the housekeeper said, “That wouldn’t be gravy on your moustache, now, would it, Finlay McRae?”
Finlay’s hand quickly shot up to his neatly trimmed moustache, the panic in his gesture and the alarm on his face an eloquent admission of guilt.
Kate did her best to come to Finlay’s rescue, saying, “It’s just that there was enough for two, Miss Weir, and it seemed much too good to waste. Besides, I felt silly sitting there all alone. How about if we eat in the kitchen fromnow on, or you two join me in the banquet hall for meals?”
“That’s very kind, but it just wouldn’t seem right,” Miss Weir said.
“It can’t be more wrong than one person eating alone at a table that seats thirty,” Kate said, made uncharacteristically assertive by the fresh memory of eating dinner alone with the portrait of Lady Carolyn.
Miss Weir still looked unconvinced.
“I’ll tell you what—how about if we eat breakfast and lunch here in the kitchen, and dinner together in the hall—how does that sound?”
“Aye, well—”
“Good.” Kate smiled. Turning to Finlay, she said, “There’s a lot of ground to cover tomorrow morning, so I imagine you’ll want an early start. How does eight o’clock sound?”
“It sounds just fine,” Finlay told her.
“Eight o’clock it is, then—I’ll set my alarm.” She was about to leave, but stopped and said, “Finlay, Miss Weir, thanks for making me so welcome. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
With that she walked through the door that led back to the banquet hall, smiling when she heard Finlay say to Miss Weir, “And to think you were worried she was going to be some stuck-up besom who’d be looking down her nose at us.”
Kate was still smiling a few minutes later when she curled up under the covers and drifted off to sleep to the sound of the waterfall far below.
“D O YOU M IND IF HAMISH JOINS US ON OUR WEE JAUNT around the glen?” Finlay asked after breakfast the next morning.
Kate had no idea who Hamish was, but again her mind conjured up images of a kilted Tom Hanks.
They were quickly dispelled when Miss Weir explained: “That’s his wee West Highland Terrier.”
Kate smiled at how wrong she’d been once more, and said, “No, of course not.”
“Good,” Finlay said. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I’ll just nip upstairs and see if he’s awake yet.”
“He spoils that dog something terrible,” Miss Weir said after Finlay left. “He
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