Free The Trouble with Scotland by Patience Griffin

the quilters of Gandiegow to keep his end of the bargain with Sadie.
    And for some reason, he didn’t mind the thought of her and her sewing machine being at his house. Though how he’d come up with the plan seemed more like fate than brains on his part.
    As if it was meant to be, he’d run into Father Andrew, who asked Ross to deliver a message to Moira, his fiancée. Then, when Ross stopped at Quilting Central to see Moira, she told him about Sadie lying in bed. Moira had pointed out the sewing machine assigned to Sadie, andthen turned away, perhaps even blocking everyone’s view as he’d unplugged the cord and walked off with it. As if Moira had given him the suggestion telepathically with her soft voice and incline of her head. The town might think Moira was quiet, but she had a cunning streak in her that was sure to keep her future husband on his toes.
    Waiting, Ross paced the floor of Thistle Glen Lodge, grabbing a periodical from the stack on the coffee table as he passed by . . . a quilting publication. A fishing magazine would’ve been preferable, but the quilt on the front looked like the one his mother had made for his confirmation. His mum had called the pattern a Mariner’s Compass.
    How he missed his mother. She’d been in Glasgow with Aunt Glynnis for two years now. He would go see both of them soon, and maybe take his nephew Dand along. John and Maggie could use the time alone, except they wouldn’t exactly be alone. Baby Irene was seven months old and had yet to sleep through the night. She was a handful, but the cutest little bug he’d ever seen, and she loved to cuddle with her Uncle Ross.
    His thoughts turned to Sadie and he glanced down the hallway as she came out of the restroom all trussed up in a long robe. His pulse kicked up. A normal, natural reaction, he told himself. Everyone thought they’d been irresponsible, sneaking out of town the way that they had, but they were two unattached adults, and he’d gotten her back to Gandiegow safely, hadn’t he?
    Funny, spending time with the lass was the most interesting thing he’d done in a long while. Even more interesting than working on his truck.
    A minute later, she appeared from the bedroom in apurple sundress, the color of foxglove in full bloom, making her brown eyes stand out like a lone thistle in the glen. Remembering to breathe, he sucked in a lungful of air.
    He felt damned uncomfortable. As if he was wearing a vise instead of a loose polo shirt. “Are ye always this slow getting ready?” He tried for teasing, but his voice was a mite strained.
    She gave him a sideways glance. “You didn’t have to wait that long. Besides, I hurried.”
    â€œWell,” he groused congenially, “I would hate to be waiting on ye when ye were taking yere time.”
    She snatched the torn shirt from the back of the couch. Hell, good thing she remembered it because he’d forgotten all about it. He prayed John wouldn’t notice that his new shirt had gone missing, and that Ross had taken the fillet knife to it.
    He walked with Sadie through town, the pathways empty this time of day, for which he was grateful. Not that he was embarrassed to be seen with the lass . . . quite the opposite. He just didn’t want to explain why he wasn’t taking her to Quilting Central as expected. Her eyes darted everywhere, taking in his village.
    â€œI can’t imagine living here,” she said on a sigh. “The North Sea out your front door. Do you know how relaxed I’d be if I had all this?” She gestured to the ocean, the cottages, and the bluffs.
    â€œI’m pleased ye like it.” It was an odd thing for him to say, but he meant it. He pointed to his family’s white cottage, not the last cottage in town but nearly. “This is it.” He sauntered up the walk with Sadie trailing behind. He opened the door for her, trying to see his home