Page 111 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
She pressed a kiss to his cheek. Another kiss—much more than a quick press of her lips—would come later, when she had him alone. “This is a wonderful gift.”
As soon as Mrs. Gilroy returned, he spread out a few sheets of newspaper and opened the case.
A small pup dashed out and ran straight into Carrie’s waiting arms.
Good heavens.The dog was a younger, even fluffier version of Heathy.
“In case ye’re wondering, Heathy is the pup’s sire,” Logan said with a chuckle.
Belle could not take her eyes off the precious puppy. “Why, that little dickens.”
Amelia looked a bit guilty. “I wanted to tell you. But Jon made me promise to keep it a surprise.”
“And a marvelous surprise it is.” Belle’s heart swelled as Carrie cuddled the tiny pup. “By the way, where is Heathy?”
“He’s home with our housekeeper,” Amelia explained. “At his age, he’s not fond of traveling.”
“The furry mop on legs is getting a bit creaky in the joints,” Logan said matter-of-factly.
“Believe me, I understand,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “These old bones can be contrary at times.”
“We’ll have to be careful to keep the pup from getting underfoot,” Belle said. “We wouldn’t want to repeat what happened with Heathy.”
“Ah, it was not such a bad thing.” The old woman lifted her gaze to Belle. A cheeky little grin played on her mouth. “Truth be told, I might’ve put that mishap to good use.”
Belle hiked a brow. “What are you saying?”
Her smile broadened. “Well, to tell ye the truth, I may have played it up... just a bit.”
Jon’s brow furrowed. “What’s this about?”
“It’s simple, really,” Mrs. Gilroy said. “When Heathy got underfoot that day, I did twist my bad knee. But as ye know, the other one’s not much better. I’ve had twinges in my joints for years now.” She turned to Belle. “When I saw how the wee lass brightened up after ye came to stay, I didn’t want ye to leave.”
Belle bit back a grin. “Mrs. Gilroy, you scamp.”
The old woman met her gaze with kind eyes. “As it turns out, my achy bones were a bit of a blessing, now, weren’t they?”
With a smile, Belle caught the woman’s work-worn hands in hers. “I would most definitely have to agree.”
Carrie brought her puppy over. “Mama, what shall we name him?”
“We’ll need to ponder that a bit,” Belle said.
Logan chuckled. “I’d suggest Mop-on-legs, but Amelia would poke me in the ribs.”
Jon scratched his chin, appearing deep in thought. “Carrie, I have an idea.”
“What, Papa?”
“He looks like his father, doesn’t he?”
When Carrie nodded, he went on. “I suspect he will act like his father as well. So, why don’t we call him Rascal?”
“Rascal,” Carrie repeated. She beamed at the name. “I love it. So now, I have my Rascal.”
Logan chuckled. “If he’s anything like that like the little ball of fur he’s descended from, ye can consider it a fitting name, indeed.”
“Well, Jon, since you’ve already presented your surprise, I have one for you as well,” Belle said. “Though it’s not nearly so special.”
