Her Scottish Exile is based on a short story I wrote a few years ago as a gift for a friend. I thought it would be just the thing to publish as an Amazon/KDP short. Problem is, I lost the bloody thing. So I decided to rewrite it. Thing about rewrites, you tend to embellish and fix and add. It's turning into a lovely novel and I'm quite excited about it.
So, here is a very rough draft of a scene between the heroine -- Lainie -- and the hero -- Richard -- after their first meeting. Richard has offered to show Lainie the horses on this farm outside of Edinburgh, Scotland, in a small village called Linlithgow. It being a bit windy and chilly, Richard has gallantly offered Lainie a bit of tea to get warm and a jacket she can borrow when they go back so he can show off the horses.
Enjoy!
He led the way and ushered her up the steps to
his rooms over the barn. Opening the door, he waited until she’d stepped inside
before following and closing the door behind them. “It’s no much but ‘tis
comfortable. Ye can have a seat there if ye wish. I’ll put kettle on.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, maybe a
plain décor, if any. But his small home was nothing like that at all. He’d gone
to the trouble of painting the walls a very homey yellow, hanging pictures of
landscapes and, yes, horses on the walls. He’d managed a very nice sofa and a
loveseat in the living room, along with a television and a stereo. The floor
was carpeted and warm. There was another door and she casually walked toward
it. There was a separate bedroom with a very comfortable looking queen size
bed. He had a desk with his laptop sitting on top, along with a desk lamp. More
pictures of horses graced the walls and there were two large bookcases – full of
paperbacks and hard covers – up against the far wall. She swallowed the urge to
check out his reading material and strolled back to the living room.
There was a small kitchenette marked out with a
dining area attached. True to his word, he’d put the kettle on the small stove
and was setting out cups and saucers. When he saw her watching, he raised up to
ask, “Would you care for biscuits?”
“Um, sure,” she answered. “How long have you
been living up here?”
He opened a cupboard and pulled out a tin,
laying out several large cookies on a plate. “Oh, been here about a year now.
I’m hoping to have my own flat soon. Something closer to university when I go
in the fall.”
She sat down at the table, watching him putter
away. “What do you plan to major in?”
“Eh?”
“Uh, I mean…what’s your area of study? What
degree are you going for?”
“Oh.” He hooked a stray lock of hair with his
long index finger and pushed it back behind his ear. “I’m thinking of being a
horse doctor, ye ken. A veterinarian. ‘Twas what I wanted to do…before.”
“Before what?” She propped her elbows on the
table and leaned forward, resting her breasts on her arms.
His hand trembled a bit at that, but he managed
to get the lid back on the tin and put it back up into the cupboard. He looked
out of the corner of his eye at her before turning his attention back to the
stove.
“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing that she’d
just stepped in something. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m really sorry. You don’t
have to answer; it’s none of my business.”
He sighed deeply, then turned around to look at
her. “No, you didn’t know better. It’s…just…well…”
It broke her heart to see it. He looked lost
and insecure. He seemed to be wrestling with something and she wasn’t sure how
to make this easier for him. She came beside him, resting her hand on his arm.
“No, really. You don’t have to tell me. It
really is none of my business. But if you do want to talk, I promise never to
tell a soul.”
The green eyes met hers, dark and brooding. He
chewed on his lower lip for a moment, studying her. He furrowed his brow,
trying to make up his mind. When his face relaxed again, he nodded at her, and
poured the hot water in the teapot.
“Well, I already told Gerry and I’m sure he’s
told Tessa. But I’d appreciate it if you told no one else. Please?”
She smiled up at him. “I swear it,” she
answered, making a cross over her heart.
“You see, everyone else thinks I was in
hospital for a time. And I was, see. When…”
“When your parents had the car accident that
killed them. You were in the car too?”
He nodded. “I was a young lad. Sixteen.” He
braced his hands on the cabinet, the muscles of his forearms standing out
again. “Damn lorry bashed into us, doing sixty or seventy at least." His
eyes darted to the corners of his eyes in a quick glance at her before
returning to stare at the counter top. "Not paying attention to where he
was going. Rolled our car. I was the lucky one, ken. I only broke both hips, my
left leg, three ribs, and my left arm.” He chuckled to himself in a humorless fashion.
She moved closer, her arms going around his
waist. He turned instinctively to her, holding her tightly. She laid her head
against his shoulder, giving him her strength and silently encouraging him to
go on.
With a slight quaver in his voice, he did. “I
woke up three weeks later. In traction for a long time – I don’t even remember
how long it was. Took me two years to learn how to walk again. Two years and
four surgeries. I didn’t even get to go to my parents’ funeral.”
“That’s tough.”
He shrugged, his voice artificially even and
almost toneless. “I went to live with family for a while but I wanted to be on
my own.”
“Don’t those stairs cause you problems?”
His voice was stronger now, the hard part had
been said. “Wee bit sometimes. Only when it gets verra cold.” He disentangled
from her embrace. “Here, ye best sit now. I’ll get the tea.”
She stepped back, smoothing her shirt front to
have something to do. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Aye?”
“Why don’t you want anyone to know what
happened? It’s not like it was your fault.”
He froze again, but this time didn’t go into
details. “Here, tea. I’ve got milk and sugar, if you want it. And lemon from
one of those squeeze bottles. I don’t use it, myself, but I have it if you do.”
“No, milk and sugar is fine.”
They sat in relative silence, drinking the tea
and enjoying the cookies. She wanted to take his hand, let him know that she
was still there. But he seemed to have closed off again, his face revealing
nothing. She started chattering, just to fill the silence. He didn’t stop her,
but he didn’t seem to be listening either. After several minutes of no
response, she went back to drinking her tea and let the silence take the
moment.
3 comments:
Oh this is so delicious. He's a real heart-breaker there, kiddo. Honestly, this is great.
I like him too. I need to start bringing more of her character out now. But...yeah, I do like him. :-)
Oh, I look forward to reading the rest of this!
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