Page 42 of Wild Scottish Knight

“And nothing happened in the night? You didn’t sneak out and battle a Kelpie without me, did you?” Matthew narrowed his eyes at me.

Not a Kelpie, I thought, my cheeks pinkening, but I’d had a different battle of sorts.

“What’s that look about?” Matthew asked, leaning closer, his eyes glinting. “You’ve got gossip, don’t you?”

“I do not,” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Lachlan wasn’t nearby.

“You do, or you wouldn’t look so guilty. Spill,” Matthew demanded.

“I can’t spill. There’s nothing to spill.”

“Sophie, you are a horrible liar on a good day. Don’t even bother to try.” Matthew shook his head at me. He crossed his arms over his chest, one hand holding his mug, and gestured with it. “Details, now.”

“I can’t. Not here. Plus, we need to figure out what happened with the blade,” I insisted. There was no way I was giving Matthew details of what had happened the night before when anyone could walk in at any moment.

“We’re going to the bookshop, then. Agnes was going to pull some books for me to pick up today, and I’m sure she’ll be able to help with this new development. Or developments, should I say?” Matthew arched a brow. Blowing out a breath, I crammed the toast in my mouth, stopping myself from answering, and shrugged one shoulder. There was no way I’d get out of telling Matthew about what had happened between Lachlan and me, but at least I could prolong it for now.

On the walk to the bookstore, I managed to steer the conversation in the direction of Matthew’s views on what had happened yesterday with magick, the town of Loren Brae, and his overall impressions of everyone we’d met thus far. Even if he knew I was dodging his interrogation, he was kind enough not to press me for more information about what had transpired the day before. Instead, we’d enjoyed a stroll in the misty weather, with myself once again snuggled into the man’s sweater that Hilda had given me. One of these days I was going to buy proper clothes for the Scottish weather.

“Is this her shop?” I asked as we turned from the street that wound along the loch and onto a side street with stone buildings tucked next to each other in a neat row.Bonnie Bookswas carved on a cute wooden sign that hung over a bright blue door. Two large arched windows showcased a display of books and art, and I was immediately charmed. I had to admit, I hadn’t realized how much I loved an arched window or door until I’d seen so many around the village. It was those little details that added to the appeal of the village.

“It is. I’m just going to pop into the market to see if they have hibiscus tea. I’ll be right along.” Matthew gestured to a small supermarket across the street, and I nodded.

Pushing the door open, I heard Agnes’s voice raised in anger. It was so unlike the Agnes I had met that I paused just inside the door, unsure of how to proceed.

“Och, and you’re a clarty bastard, aren’t you? I’ve told you again and again that I don’t have the money. Nobody in the town does. Tourism has all but dried up. I bloody well don’t have an extra pound to be paying you. You can’t be closing my shop!” Her voice rose in anger, and worry twisted my stomach. “David Goodwin, you’re not a proper gentleman if you’re forcing this through. All of Loren Brae is suffering. You don’t need the money. You’re just being greedy.”

Silence filled the air as Agnes listened. She paced the shop, still not having seen me, and dread gripped me. David Goodwin was a name I was well familiar with. If I was correct, he was the New York business manager who oversaw many of Uncle Arthur’s properties around the world. A part of me hoped that I was wrong, but with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I knew that it had to be one and the same.

“Your mother would be ashamed of you, David. I hope you lose sleep at night knowing you’re stealing from the mouths of needy families.” Agnes swore and punched the button on her phone before tossing it on the counter. Not wanting to intrude but also feeling uncomfortable, I cleared my throat. Agnes whirled, two bright pink spots on her cheeks.

“Oh, Sophie. You startled me.”

“I’m sorry, I came in just as you were speaking…I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m sorry, it was rude of me to listen. I shouldn’t have…” I crossed to her and took her arms in my hands, searching her face. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’mnotokay. And don’t worry about listening. It’s not exactly a secret. Though I’ll admit my pride often prevents me from moaning about it.” Agnes sighed and pulled me in for a quick hug before retreating behind the counter. “It’s this New York landlord. Some investor bought up a lot of the properties a while back and has no empathy for the hard times we’ve fallen upon. While I understand it is business, it would be nice if he could at least be a touch understanding during this hard time. It’s not like he’ll find other tenants to take this spot, not with the way people are steering clear of Loren Brae. Better a partially paying tenant than none at all, right?” Agnes asked.

“I agree. One of the reasons my Uncle Arthur had such a strong business is that he understood that the people who worked for him were human. He didn’t care if mothers had to leave early to pick up kids or go to a doctor’s appointment. He trusted his employees to get their work done around their schedules and insisted on balance in all things. In turn, he built a loyal employee base and had little turnover. He’d always told me that while the common advice was to treat everything like a business and not personally—that advice quite simply wasn’t true. Peopledotake business personally. It’s their livelihood. It’s how they introduce themselves at parties. It’s where they spend a huge chunk of their time. It’s never just business, and anybody who doesn’t understand that is operating without a heart.” I made a mental note to double-check that David Goodwin was indeed the man I was thinking of.

“I think I would have liked your Uncle Arthur,” Agnes said, her eyes going to the door as Matthew barreled in, brushing his coat off.

“It’s coming down out there now,” Matthew said, shaking his coat and hanging it on a hook on the wall.

Turning, I took a slow scan of the room, my heart giving a happy sigh as I took in the space that Agnes had created here. Clearly, it was a place for book lovers and dreamers alike. A low-slung leather couch was tucked beneath the tall front windows, and two comfortable-looking armchairs bookended the sofa with small tables on either side. A variety of intricately woven rugs were splashed across the wooden floors, and bookcases in varying heights and sizes created nooks around the room. A fireplace on one wall was framed by a pretty carpet, floor cushions, and more low-slung cushy chairs. I realized that must be a space for children to curl up and listen during story time. Long wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and white floral garlands were hung among strands of twinkle lights. Along the walls, bold paintings in bright colors added interest to the space, and I already wanted to wander the room and lose myself in the offerings found there. She’d done an incredible job of creating ambience, and I was itching to explore the bookshelves.

“Cup of tea for you?” Agnes called from where she crouched by the fire.

“Yes, please. We have very important things to discuss this dreary morning,” Matthew said, crossing to the fire and plopping into one of the chairs. Stretching his legs out, he drummed his fingers on his thigh. “But I can’t decide which is more important—the reason behind why Sophie’s cheeks go pink whenever I ask where she disappeared to for hours yesterday—or figuring out why she’s already met the first of her challenges.”

“Och, bloody hell. It’s quite a morning then, isn’t it?” Agnes whirled on me. “And here I’m moaning on about my own problems when you’ve got much bigger news.”

“Yes, see? There’s a gemstone in my dirk,” I said, pulling the sword from the tote bag I’d brought with me.

“Hold that thought. I’d just put a pot on to boil before you walked in. Let me get it.” Agnes hurried through a door in the back of the store, and I took the opportunity to cross to a shelf full of pottery decorated with a delicate purple glaze. Charmed by a small vase, I took it to the counter and continued my perusal. By the time Agnes returned with a tray in hand, I’d added a small painting, four books, another piece of pottery, and a soft scarf in muted storm cloud colors. I’d also avoided any questions from Matthew, though I knew that time had come to an end when I returned to the fire and both Agnes and Matthew had similar expressions of interest on their faces.

“Fine,” I muttered, plopping down into a leather armchair and staring into the fire. “I hooked up with Lachlan.”

“There it is…” Matthew snapped his fingers.

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