Edwina

Chapter 1

But see here. I am who I say I am. Edwina Emily Blair from the United States. I have the reservations right here. The extra large suite for two weeks starting today at the Old Waverly Hotel. Edwina’s voice cracked. My sister made the arrangements. There must be a mistake. This is the third person I’ve spoken to!

And ‘twil be the last, came a voice behind her. A strong Scottish brogue. Edwina turned slightly, glad for anyone who would speak for her. Alone in a foreign country on a trip she had not planned—nor had wanted to experience—she stood on tired legs, wishing for nothing more than a bath and a bed.

Ye see the lass standing ’ere. He stepped ahead of her, glancing at his watch.

"Doesn’t match the name I ’ave here, a Miss Cecelia Giatano and she is not that person, came the stubborn reply from the bearded man behind the counter. Also a Scot.

Yes, Miss Giatano is my sister... I... Edwina’s voice faded away as the man interrupted her.

Miss Giatano did not appear within the allotted time. That room has been given to another party.

A last-minute emergency had sent her sister, the one who’d planned this trip, flying off to Italy. Too tired to say another word, Edwina hoped this man could help.

She recognized him as someone who had flown on the plane from London to Edinburgh. His handsome appearance had not been easy to ignore. Women had turned to look at him, but he’d seemed oblivious to the doting females who flitted by like bluebirds trying to find a place to land. She’d studied him from the seat behind. He had been intent on his laptop.

It had been pleasant to observe him as he pointed out the obvious to the stubborn man behind the counter who held her destiny in his hands. She loved the study of human inter- action. One of her few creative gifts, she noted tiredly. This particular male would provide the perfect character profile for the book she would write one day. For that reason alone she made note of his features as her sleepless eyes tried to focus. He turned slightly, giving her a perfect profile. Straight nose, perfectly chiseled chin. Green eyes, thick dark hair, and tall. Very tall. She sighed. A study of human nature secretly woven into a fictional story including mystery, suspense, and romance. The latter she would no doubt never experience, except perhaps through the writing of the book.

Shaking the thoughts from her head because her book and its story were only a dream at this point in her life, she moved slightly away from the handsome stranger who even now was speaking on her behalf. He seemed too perfect to touch.

Suddenly her brain felt strange as the world around her began to fade. Her knees began to wobble and, to her horror, Edwina slipped to the floor as the black hole became smaller and smaller until she disappeared inside of it.

* * * * *

Ah now, see here, she has fallen dead away. Ye have pressed the poor lass. Alex Dunnegin scolded as he caught the woman just before her head hit the floor.

The man behind the counter continued with the long line of travelers that awaited his evil eye and suspicious nature.

I have no time for this. I must be about getting home. I am late already, Alex mumbled and looked about. No one came forward, so anxious was each not to lose their place in the dreadfully long line.

He could not leave the woman to her own affairs. She undoubtedly was without assistance. He’d heard the entire conversation with the infernal hotel employee. This one time he wished he’d ignored his gentlemanly duties allowing her to step in ahead of him. Alone in Scotland, from the looks of it, most likely an unmarried lass. And for that he felt a kinship. He too was unmarried—considered a catch in modern Edinburgh, sought after by many, but loved by no one.

Bending on one knee he lifted her shoulders and cradled her head in his elbow, her long, dark hair slung over his arm. He waited for the color to return to her cheeks. Slowly she came round and looked up into the face of the stranger and immediately jerked away from his touch.

Smiling, the Scot helped her stand, steadying her with a slight touch at her elbow.

I’m... I’m so sorry, she blurted out breathlessly as flashes of heat burnt her face. She lifted a shaking hand to her temple. I’m fine now, please... please... her voiced failed her as her knees turned watery again. Not sure if it was the closeness of the handsome stranger or lack of sleep, she stumbled to the nearest chair and sat down, relieved.

Stay here while I make a call. He ordered before turning his back. He was speaking into his phone.

Bertilda, has she arrived? Aye. Tell her I’m on the way.... Tell her not to fly away, his tone serious Is Reardon waiting for me in the car? Aye... good. He snapped the phone shut. The wedding suite would have to be secured later.

Edwina saw the hurry in his stride as he walked back to her. Immediately she wished to release him from his obligations and said boldly,

I’m fine. It seems I have found what I need. She fished in her purse and pulled out a folded paper and waved it in the air. You may be on your way, sir.

Ah, so ye think a menu would buy your way through the line? his lips turned upward slightly

She looked at the paper in her hand. Indeed she felt her face warm again as she stuffed a Starbucks menu back into her purse.

Formidable thoughts raced around in her brain, threatening to send her to the floor again.

Come. Ye will be my guest this night, he said forth- rightly and reached for her bag.

She started to protest, but with a wave of his hand he said, Tis not for you I am offering my services, he stated firmly, but for my own desires. My fiancée who is now waiting at my home has flown in from Madrid, and I am here.

All the more reason to leave me where I sit, Edwina stated flatly. Be about your business, sir. I will be all right. She willed her bloodshot eyes to behave and not give her fears away.

He pulled his small black bag alongside hers and ignored her request. "My man will take these to my auto and come back for you. Ye will come with me, lass."

And by the tone of his voice, Edwina knew she would.

Chapter 2

The streets of Edinburgh passed by quickly through the dark glass of the car. She’d never ridden in a... what did you call them?... The black cars with shaded windows and champagne that slid out from a secret compartment when you pushed a little button. Her mind would not function. It felt like she was the actress in a movie she’d seen once. Was it Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca?

The Scot’s man, Reardon, and her knight in shining armor spoke. He sat beside her right this very minute. Only her book would be set in the sixteenth century with a horse instead of a black limosine.

Sir, shall I have Bertilda prepare a room for Miss . . . The Scot turned to her.

Edwina Blair from Michigan, in America.

Yes, ‘tis known you are from the states.

Edwina cringed. Was it that apparent? Alex Dunnegin.

Mr. Dunnegin, I don’t know how to thank you.

No need, Miss Blair. Reardon, push on and make it quick. The lass is weak from lack of food, and by the looks of it, sleep as well.

Edwina wanted to laugh out loud. She laid her head back with her eyes closed because the dizzying scenes passing by made her sick. She doubted Reardon thought her in need of food, for indeed she was at least fifteen pounds heavier than the doctor’s office chart said she needed to be. Of course, she was no actress, neither in looks nor in body shape, so what was the need to worry about what people thought?

It was good to be in someone’s hands who knew what they were about, because she had been forced into this situation against her will. And from the problems she had encountered thus far, things would only get worse if left on her own. Thankful, for she didn’t know why but her instincts told her to trust this Scot, she relaxed against the back of the soft leather seat and promptly fell asleep.

What seemed like seconds later, she was awakened, the motion of the car had stopped. Her heavy eyelids opened slightly. A sense of activity poked into her senses. What was it? Where was she? Scotland! She lifted her head and looked around. Suddenly the door next to her right elbow opened.

Miss. I shall attend you. Allow me. Reardon offered his gloved hand and lifted her from the soft seats. The tall Scot was not in sight. He had, no doubt, flown on wings to his beloved. Her feet stepped on crushed stones. The crunch beneath her black flats sounded loud in the quietness of the late afternoon. Then her eyes, dull from lack of sleep, widened. They were at a castle. A beautiful castle. The kind you read about in books. History books.

Where are we? Her soft voice lifted on the wind that wrapped strands of hair about her face.

Ye are at Castle Dunnegin, standing on grounds that have belonged to this family since 1702, Reardon said, a proud look on his solemn face.

Castle Dunnegin? Edwina repeated dumbly. Three hundred years?

Aye, miss. Ye’d be standing in western Scotland, to be sure.

Edwina could think of nothing to say, so shaken was she at the view before her eyes. Distant hills marched upward softly and down again. The sun, still radiant, was making its slow descent behind the rolling hills, leaving magical patterns of faded oranges, pinks, and lavender. Edwina’s legs, though weak, would not move her from the place where she stood. Never in her twenty-seven years had she witnessed such beauty—and then only in travel books.

Miss... ye’d best be coming in. The wind is picking up her pace and will be aboot us in no time.

Yes, of course, Edwina whispered.

Her bags were in the arms of the Scot’s man, and she followed him, turning her head now and again to view the scene behind her.

It is a sight for weary eyes, Scotland is, Reardon spoke quietly.

That it is.

As they entered through the huge doorway, Edwina’s eyes widened. The foyer was larger than her entire apart- ment. A finely crafted curved dark cherry staircase invited her eyes upward. The huge glass multi-colored arched window at its turn bid her to come up. Perhaps she was too tired to think clearly. Her hand lifted to touch her temple. Awestruck, Edwina allowed her gaze to take in the largeness, no... grandness of the space she now stood in. Had it been only yesterday that she was arguing with her stepsister that she could not possibly get on a plane and go to Scotland?

Come, miss. Reardon broke into her thoughts.

Blindly, like a sheep meekly going to slaughter, she stepped onto the ancient wooden stairs then down a rather dark corridor until they stood at the last door on the left. Reardon set down his burdens. Another huge arched window was at the end of the corridor, the sun repeating its gothic pattern on the wood floors. The thick ornate wooden door was opened to her. She walked past Reardon, who stood aside and bowed slightly. Had anyone ever bowed to her before? She couldn’t remember.

Reality could have slapped her and she would still think she’d just awoke from a dream. The tapestry at the windows and across the huge four-poster bed, also of dark cherry, looked like so many pictures she’d seen in magazines. A decorator she was not, but she knew elegance when she saw it—and in fact was standing upon it this very moment.

Usually practical to a fault, Edwina allowed herself to feel the dream, to pretend she was beautiful and rich. After all she was in Scotland standing in a castle somewhere near Edinburgh. Why shouldn’t a girl dream? she wondered wildly.

She knew Reardon had followed her in and set her suit- cases upon the low chest at the foot of the bed.

I shall send Bertilda to assist you in your unpacking.

Edwina opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. What she wanted was to be left alone to look at everything in the room, to look behind the long emerald green and royal blue plaid curtains that surely hid an awesome view. Plaid seemed to be the main theme in the room. No doubt the Scot’s Tartan. A strange ambiance circled her in a feeling of being at home. But she was Irish on her mother’s side. Definitely Irish. Not Scottish.

Shaking her head because her mind was mush, she turned at the sound of a slight knock. The door was so thick she barely heard the request to enter. Before she could open her mouth, a large woman bustled in and began unpacking her bag.

Edwina’s hand went out to stop her. She was quite capable, tired or no, to unpack her own things. The maid’s countenance told her she’d done this many times before and knew her duty. Edwina let her hand fall to her side. She didn’t know a thing about protocol in Scotland. She’d read dozens of books—why hadn’t she thought to read some travel books before stepping into another country? And then she remem- bered. Cecelia had surprised her, knowing full well Edwina would refuse the trip if it hadn’t already been planned. She’d had exactly six days to prepare.

What day was it anyway? She’d left late Friday after- noon. What about the time change? She’d not had the sense to investigate.

Ma’am, what day is it?

It’d be Saturday. And me name’s Bertilda. If ye be needin’ anything, ye must only ask fer it.

Thank you, Bertilda. Edwina almost lifted her hand in a friendly shake but placed it back at her side.

Would ye like yer bath drawn?

A bath? Edwina sighed. Bertilda saw her need and hustled through another door.

Before long Edwina found herself soaking in rose-scented bath bubbles. The tub was larger than her entire bathroom at home. Such luxury. And the towels! Fit for a queen in a castle. Which was exactly what she was right now. A good pinch might pop the bubble.

Wrapped in a huge cherry pink, very thick towel, she made her way to the bed, which had already been turned back and smoothed to perfection. Her thin cotton pajamas lay out on the elegant covers. She felt a certain shame at the raggedy material so out of place in such grand surroundings. What must Bertilda think of her?

Seconds later she was ensconced first in her own pajamas and then in the huge, soft bed. Above her the fringe on the canopy fluttered as her eyes blinked, then closed. She was safe for the night.

Chapter 3

Undisturbed, Edwina woke on her own. She stretched and mewed like a cat, so sweet had her sleep been. Had she ever mewed like a cat before? She didn’t think so.

A trip to the bathroom left her refreshed after a quick washup. Rifling through her clothes, she wondered what a girl in a Scottish castle should wear. She found her things neatly folded in a drawer, pushed aside her worn jeans and chose her favorite black print skirt and a short-sleeved white cotton shirt. Settling herself in the overstuffed wing-backed chair, she thought about the last couple of days and how she could possibly find herself, the sensible one, here in Scotland alone.

Edwina remembered their conversation well.

The call came as they waited in Chicago to board the plane.

What do you mean you can’t go? Edwina stared at her sister.

Cecelia snapped her phone shut and said, Father has expired. I must make arrangements to travel to Milan immediately.

Edwina watched her step-sister’s quick steps with disbe- lief, grabbed her carry-on and ran after her. But we’re ready to board. I can’t go to Scotland without you, Cecelia. Edwina stopped.

Cecelia turned, crossed her arms over her nut brown embroidered jacket and said, Of course, you’ll go without me. The arrangements are all in order. You need only to follow the itinerary I gave you. Chicago to London to Edinburgh. Simple.

For the first time in her life, Edwina stomped her foot. Look, this was your plan for us, together, not for me to travel alone. You know I don’t like to... to... leave home. She sputtered.

"Exactly, the reason you must continue your trip. This is your first holiday away from your job in three years, Ed. You need to learn a little about other people."

"You’re the one who needs people all over the world... not me. I’m happy to be an assistant librarian and read about other people’s lives." Edwina’s hands were on her hips. She glanced around at the people passing.

"The barrister said Father’s will is to be read day after tomorrow and I must be in Italy. I am his only heir."

I know that, Cecelia. It’s just that... .that... Edwina forced herself to lower her voice.

What, Ed? Cecelia checked her watch. I have to see if I can get on standby... it’s going to be difficult enough to catch another flight today. Really, I’m sorry. Besides we flew to Italy for our parents’ wedding remember?

Yes, but that was six years ago... Edwina heard the whine in her normally calm librarian voice. And you’re the one that was born in England.

"It’s not that difficult, Ed... you’re so organized."

In my own world, I’m organized. This is not my world, Cece, it’s yours.

Look, why don’t you just board the plane and see if you might find someone to talk to and learn all you can about Edinburgh. It’s easy enough. I’ve done it dozens of times. Ask lots of questions. People love to talk about things they know.

Edwina’s thoughts flew through her head like scattered pearls bouncing off a marble floor. "You love to talk to people. I love to read books about people, remember?" The pitch of her voice raised a notch.

Well, then it’s time you learned a little more about life. You can’t live your entire life out of books, Edwina Blair.

The firmness of her sister’s words hit her like a scorching wind. Or was her face already hot? She lifted her hand to her cheek and looked away. She hated emotional displays in public places.

Besides, everything is paid for. It cost me a lot of money, Ed.

Edwina stared into her sister’s beautiful blue eyes as her stomach did flip-flops. That did it. Not one for wasting money or disappointing anyone, she realized at that moment she would be going to Scotland for two weeks. Alone.

Cecelia must have known she’d won, for her sister tucked her cell in her pocket, laid her exquisitely manicured hands upon Edwina’s shoulders and winked. See, I knew you’d see it my way. You’ll have the time of your life, believe me. There’s plenty to do... be sure to visit Edinburgh Castle, take several bus tours around the country, one through the Highlands for certain. The people at the hotel will tell you which ones are best. The itinerary is in the packet I gave you. You’ll be fine, Edwina.

Edwina looked at her feet. Well, if this was called adventure, she guessed she was in for a big one. Lord, I’m going with you... show me the way. A huge sigh escaped her lips.

There, now. Cecelia comforted her sister with a pat on her arm.

Edwina’s heart seemed to return to normal pace, for some odd reason, because none of this was going to be easy or fun... at least not from her point of view. And all because there was no way she’d let all that money be wasted just because she was afraid. Besides, her conscience railed, wasn’t she being insensitive to Cecelia’s pain right now?

I’ll be all right, Cece. I’m really sorry about your father.

Don’t worry about me, Ed. You know Father and I were never close. He was not kind to my mother or me. But he did have a beautiful villa and I shall make plans to put it to good use. Actually, I’m rather excited to see it. Mum says it is located in an exquisite part of the country and quite lavishly furnished.

Edwina stared at her sister. Cecelia could change life- styles quicker than Edwina could put gas in her little white Volkswagen.

I’ll let the airlines know I won’t be flying. They’ll use my seat for a standby. Be right back.

Edwina barely heard.

Chapter 4

It was Cecelia who loved to travel. Her dreams always came true, including the fact that she, being the only child of an actress and an Italian count, was also beautiful beyond imagination. Silky golden blonde hair, blue eyes and a bone structure to die for.

Edwina’s mother and father were not of the same stock. She was born not of a count, but of two college professors who gave her, their only child, the gift of practicality and the desire to learn. Unlike Cecelia who had the best educa- tion money could buy at Oxford, Edwina had received two degrees: one in Library Science and a second in Writing from the University of Michigan, her father’s alma mater. But beyond her superior education, Cecelia also possessed a star-quality beauty, not to mention strong entrepreneurial leanings.

Edwina’s widowed father, stern, yet of a kind nature, had fallen completely in love with Cecelia’s mother, an aged but still beautiful English stage actress. She was rich and unattached and her father had married the woman within a month—which was very unlike his conservative nature; the man who planned every detail of his life right down to the annual purchase of fresh, new underwear in January during the white sale.

The passing of Cecelia’s father had left her an Italian villa and who knows what else. With all the money Cecelia would attain, she would still boss Edwina around. Her elder by exactly twenty-three months, Cecelia insisted on acting the part even though they were only stepsisters. Cecelia had been twenty years old, she eighteen, when the pecking order had been established.

Edwina hated her name. Aptly named after her father’s mother, she rather wished she’d been called by her middle name, Emily. It sounded so much softer. But now her name and her life were set in stone. And having a beautiful, rich, and very spoiled stepsister, she’d been honor bound by some sort of human chain of events to choose a lifestyle that was very sane, very safe. Which she had done. A well-educated librarian had been her choice of vocation, pleasing her parents immensely.

So now she found herself bound by duty... once again... to save her sister’s cash outlay and was presently square in the middle of Scotland in the castle of a very handsome Scot. She brushed her long, chestnut brown hair and tied it back with a black ribbon.

Edwina wanted to laugh. If her sister were here, the hand- some Scot currently at Edwina’s service, Cecelia would have made a play for him at the hotel counter... no even earlier... on the plane. Cecelia would have finagled her way into the seat next to the handsome man and chirped up a conversation immediately. And with her golden blonde upswept hair around her perfect heart-shaped face, she would have succeeded.

Edwina giggled at the foolishness of it all. Time to get to the business for which she came—the castle tour. She fished through her small purse for Cecelia’s itinerary. She must make her way to the hotel and fight with the hotel’s owner that she was not Cecelia Grace Giatana but Edwina Emily Blair. Nothing about their names matched and Cecelia’s driver’s license picture that had been faxed ahead was clearly nothing like her own image. That’s when the problems started.

Snapping the folded paper out of her purse, she smoothed it on the small bedside table and sighed. She’d much rather be about the countryside, checking out plants and flowers native to Scotland. And what industries were about the area? How did Scotland carry its people? What were their likes and dislikes? Again she found herself wishing to study people and places, not ballrooms and buildings. It was Cecelia who bought buildings and turned them into elegant apartments or English bed-and-breakfasts. Not her. She hated business. Another difference between her beautiful, talented stepsister and herself.

Well, what was to be done? Edwina’s practicality surfaced, and she studied the paper. After a night of blessed sleep. . . hmm... what did one do in a castle in Scotland?

From the looks of the faxed paper she now held in her hands, she was to stay in one of Edinburgh’s finest, The Cannon Brae. At several hundred dollars per night, Cecelia had scheduled massages, beauty treatments, and all sorts of body shaping and exercises. Edwina hated exercise and would rather walk the downtown side streets meeting the people in the small shops, drive down a country road wondering who lived in this house or that, or read a book. Cecelia would much rather walk on a treadmill while listening to a CD about the newest diet fad than do anything Edwina considered interesting.

Well, it’s time to pack and be on my way—I’ve inconvenienced this man enough.

Before packing, she wanted to see the land that surrounded the castle. Walking on bare feet across the oval rug, then onto the wooden floor, she pulled back the heavy velvet drape and gasped. Blue and green hills sledded their way across the land. Up and down they rolled. Colorful spring flowers—yellows, purples, blues—performed their nature dance in the May winds.

The scene before her sent her mind fleeing into some dream place. Squinting, she could envision a tall, beautiful