Free The Laird and I: A Kilts and Quilts of Whussendale novella by Patience Griffin Page B

own?”
    “Certainly.”
    “I’ll leave the auto for ye for later.” He tried to hand her the keys.
    She waved him off. “I’ll walk. ’Tis not that far.”
    “I’ll be here until late,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me.”
    “But—”
    The phone on the desk rang, and he reached for it. “I have to get this.” He turned his back, and their companionable lunch was over.
    Sophie grabbed her coat and left. When she got back to the workshop, it was locked. She peeked in the windows, but didn’t see the stubborn Willoughby with his key on the other side. She wandered into the building next to the kiltmaker’s. Inside, she found what could only be a small café. Three women and two men sat at a table having lunch. One of them was Magnus, Willoughby’s brother.
    “Excuse me,” Sophie said. They’d stopped eating when she’d walked in. “Do you know where Willoughby might be?”
    Magnus harrumphed. “Doing a dance with the devil, for all I care.”
    The oldest woman playfully smacked Magnus’s arm. “Don’t mind him. They’re feuding again.”
    “Here, come sit with us,” said the youngest of the three women. She was dark-haired and petite. She scooted over and made room for Sophie. “We can get Elspeth to ladle up a bowl for ye in the kitchen.”
    “No, thanks. I already ate.” With the Laird.
    The first woman made the introductions. “I’m Hazel, this is Taffy, and this is Lara, the babe of the group. This one is my husband, Harold, and of course, ye know Mr. Grumpy Pants here, one of the wool brothers. If ye’re looking for Willoughby, he probably has gone home for a wee nap.”
    Magnus harrumphed again and muttered, “Lazy bum.”
    Taffy rubbed Magnus’s arm this time. “Be kind, luv. He’s much older than you, and he needs his nap to make it through the afternoon.”
    First, Sophie really didn’t believe that Willoughby could be that much older than Magnus, maybe a year or two. Second, it looked like Taffy had a bit of a crush on the old weaver.
    They all chatted for a bit until the young woman piped up. “How about I walk you back?”
    Sophie had a feeling that Lara wanted to pump her for information about why she was here…and with the Laird. The woman seemed so nice that Sophie didn’t mind. “Sure.”
    Lara wiped her mouth and grabbed her coat.
    When they got outside and before Lara could get in the first question, Sophie asked her what she did for the wool mill—“I dye the wool” — and kept her talking until they reached the kiltmaker’s workshop.
    “This is me. Thanks for the company,” Sophie said and ducked inside. Unfortunately, Willoughby hadn’t taken a long nap and was back at his place, making a kilt out of the Royal Stewart tartan. Mrs. Bates was there, too, sewing on buckles. He gave Sophie a withering glare.
    “Sorry, I’m late.” It wouldn’t be gracious to mention his nap. She got right back to work on the Laird’s kilt.
    At five o’clock, they cleaned up the shop and Willoughby locked up. It was dark out, but the light was on in Hugh’s office as Sophie walked by. When would he make it home?
    She began the trek to Kilheath Castle, walking a ways with Hazel, Harold, and Lara, her new acquaintances. By the time Sophie made it to Hugh’s home, she was very glad to see the Wallace and the Bruce. She expected to see Hugh’s aunt, but Davinia wasn’t in the house.
    After taking the dogs for a walk, close to the house this time , Sophie heated up her dinner. She sat in front of her therapy lamp, eating her haggis stovies while the hounds rested at her feet. She felt good about the day, but one thing nagged at her…when was Hugh getting home?
    She pulled out her phone, but Amy hadn’t responded yet to her texts or her voicemails. Sophie sent messages to both Emma and her cousin Ramsay—whom she could trust to get it done.
    When you see Amy, tell her to call me.
    Sophie’s eyes began to droop. She and the dogs hauled themselves upstairs. She looked