Page 15 of Wild Scottish Gold (The Enchanted Highlands #7)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kaia

T he next day, I took the morning away from Blackwood Forge to work on finetuning the final estimate for Orla, making notes where I’d need Thane’s input on pricing per his contracts with his suppliers, and tried to narrow the timeline down. I knew Orla liked to keep to her schedule, so if we could deliver ahead of time, that would make everyone happy. It would depend on how many workers Thane could spare for this project, but either way I was feeling pretty pleased with how things were shaping up.

Murdoch had stayed the night with me, choosing the warmth and coziness of my cottage to the slashing rain outside. I’d enjoyed having him with me, even though I still marveled over my ability to communicate with him, and I had to admit that I felt just a touch safer having him in the cottage with me. Not that I was sure he could do all that much if I was under attack or something, but at the very least, he could sound the alarm or maybe peck someone’s eyes out. I shuddered as I toweled off from my shower. I didn’t want to think too deeply about that.

Craning my neck, I tilted my face into the light and examined my reflection. The bruises had turned to a nice yellowy green, but at least it was colors I could work with. Though I wasn’t typically one for makeup, it was impossible to be friends with Marisa and not have learned some tricks over the years. Though my supply was basic at best, I did have a good foundation, an excellent concealer, and a few other bits and bobs to shine myself up when the mood struck. By the time I’d finished, even swiping a dusty rose sheen across my cheeks, I gave myself an approving nod. The bruises were well hidden, and I wouldn’t scare anyone out in public today.

Even though I knew I was putting off going into the forge today, largely because I still hadn’t managed to work through the disconcerting emotions that tangled in my gut every time I thought of Thane, I’d decided to detour to Bonnie Books to see Agnes’s bookshop and bring her a bowl of soup from the pub.

I’d already called the order in and Graham was packaging it for me by the time I arrived. The Tipsy Thistle wasn’t terribly busy for a weekday lunch, but far from what it could be, I was certain of that. Sophie was deeply worried about the lack of tourism in town and, looking around the mostly empty pub that was the main spot to eat in Loren Brae, I could see her concerns were valid.

“There’s a bonnie lass,” Graham said, his eyes twinkling at me. “Like a spot of sunshine on a cold winter’s day.”

“I shouldn’t be charmed.” I sighed, propping my elbows on the bar. “But I’ll admit it, I am.”

“Is that right?” Graham angled his head, his smile deepening.

“Charmed, I said. Not foolish.” I laughed when he brought his hands to his chest, pretending to be wounded. I’d learned fairly quickly that Graham was harmless, and he complimented men and women alike from the ages of twenty to ninety. At least he was an equal-opportunity charmer. And what was the harm in that? He made people smile.

“Off to the forge then?” Graham asked, sliding the soup containers into a brown paper bag for me.

“Nope, just across the street to the bookshop. I’m taking Agnes lunch.”

“Och, are you? Give me just a moment then.” Graham ducked through a swinging door that led to the kitchen and I took the time to look around the pub again, trying to imagine it filled to the brim with people. It would be a happy place, and I hoped I could be a part of restoring business to the town. The door swung and I turned to see Graham with two more containers in his hands.

“Agnes likes extra rolls with her soup. And we’ve got her favorite dessert on today, a millionaire shortbread, so I’ve added that in as well for the both of you.”

“Oh, thank you.” I reached for my wallet.

“Nae bother, hen.” Graham waved it away and hitched the bag into his hands. “I’ll just be carrying it across the way for you. Don’t want you spilling the soups now.”

“Can you leave the pub?” I bit back a smile as I went ahead to hold the door for Graham. I had a feeling he didn’t offer hand delivery of his takeout meals for most of his customers.

“It’s not a bother. I told the kitchen, and they’ll keep an eye out.”

The main street of Loren Brae was the kind of street that made me take pause. The buildings were colorful, clustered together, with the picturesque backdrop of Loch Mirren framed by rolling green hills. I couldn’t imagine being a tourist and not wanting to stop and visit for a while. And if I angled my head just right, I could just see MacAlpine Castle peeking out over the rooftops. Yeah, it was a postcard of a town, and I wanted to do my best to help it.

Bonnie Books was a pretty stone building with large arched windows in front, and a cheerful sign over the door. I held the door for Graham, and a soft tinkling of bells announced our arrival. Celtic music lilted, wood beams lined the ceiling, and soft light spilled in the front windows showcasing a cozy room with woven rugs, shelves with rows of books, and tables piled with art and knick-knacks. Agnes turned, a smile on her face, and something flashed behind her eyes when she saw Graham.

I was right behind him, so it was almost like she was looking at me, and even I could feel the punch of it. Oh yeah, these two. They were made for each other. I wanted to fan my face, or hell, turn around and go find Thane.

“Special delivery,” Graham said, holding up the bag.

“Are you a delivery lad these days? Taken on a new side job?” Agnes said, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear and turning to shelve another book.

“We do what we must in trying times.” Graham put the bag down on what looked to be a desk and sidled closer. “I’ve heard it’s proper to tip the delivery boy.”

“Is that so?” Agnes turned and put her hands on her hips. “Well, it’s not my order, is it? It’s Kaia that will need to be doing the tipping.”

“Awww, go on and give us a kiss, Agnes.” Graham’s smile deepened when her cheeks flushed. “I put your millionaire shortbread in.”

Agnes sucked in a breath.

“You play dirty.”

“It’s your favorite.”

“Fine. One kiss, but that’s all the tip you’ll be getting from me.” Agnes pretended to stomp her foot and gave me an aggrieved glance. “He’s shameless, this one.”

“Don’t look at me. I’m American. We tip for everything.” I grinned as Agnes sighed and then leaned in to kiss his cheek.

At the last moment, Graham turned his head, and her lips met his.

I couldn’t tell who was more surprised, and my breath caught in my throat as her hands gripped the flannel of his shirt. The kiss lasted no more than a breath, but it could have been hours, and when Agnes pulled back her eyes were shuttered, her emotions hidden.

Silence filled the store.

“You must really like shortbread,” I said, breaking the moment, because I could tell Agnes needed a lifeline. Agnes opened her eyes and looked past Graham, who still stared down at her, as though transfixed, and gave me a wobbly smile.

“It’s really good shortbread. I hope you packed enough for Kaia?” Agnes raised a look at Graham, who cleared his throat and shook his head as though to gather his thoughts.

“Of course, there’s more than enough for both. Um, I’ll just be?—”

“Right, you’d better—” They spoke over each other, awkward, and I pressed my lips together. She definitely needed an assist.

“I’m super hungry, so I, for one, can’t wait to dive into lunch. Shall we have our soup? Graham, are you staying for lunch?”

Graham turned and focused on me, seeming to realize where he was finally, and shook his head.

“No, I’ve got to get back to the pub. Enjoy your lunch, ladies.” Graham turned back, awkwardly patted Agnes’s arm, and then almost ran from the store.

Agnes watched him through the window. When she turned, I raised both eyebrows.

“Don’t,” Agnes said.

“I won’t. If you don’t want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Because it looked like?—”

“It wasn’t.” Agnes busied herself with opening the bag.

“Well if you ever need to talk about it …” I held up my hands when Agnes gave me a look over her shoulder.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Well, I’m just saying … if there was something to talk about, I could listen. I’m a great listener. And I’m shit at advice. I keep jumping my co-worker and we keep telling each other we’ll never do it again. I certainly have nothing to offer you.”

Agnes snorted and ripped a piece of roll off, shoved it in her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully as she stared at the pub through the window.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Same, sister, same.” I took my container of soup and dropped onto a love seat tucked beneath the window.

“I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. This. I don’t even know what just happened. Why would he ask for a kiss? Why did he turn at the last second like that?”

“Because he wants to jump your bones?”

Agnes leveled me a look and I waved my spoon at her.

“Trust me, I could feel the heat from here. Hell, I almost left to go find Thane and have him work off whatever residual heat you two were generating. That is a man who wants to worship at the altar of Agnes.”

“That and every other woman in town.” Agnes sniffed and brought the rest of the food over.

“Oh, is that the way of it?” That was tough to hear. I didn’t want to hate Graham.

“Well, used to be. If I’m being honest, he’s not been so bad of late.”

“Because he’s in love with you.”

“Och, it’s not … no.” Agnes shook her head emphatically. “ No . It’s not like that.”

“Then why do you keep looking out the window at the pub?”

“I don’t …” Agnes trailed off as she realized she was doing just that. Turning, she narrowed her eyes at me, and I grinned. “And here I thought I was going to like you.”

“You do like me. But, since my life is no more sorted out than whatever that whole thing I just witnessed and you’re trying to pretend didn’t really happen, I’m happy to move on. I hung out with Murdoch last night, my raven.” I neatly changed the subject and Agnes seized it, clearly happy to talk about something else. We chattered through our admittedly delicious potato leek soup, and then moaned over the dessert.

“Damn it. I may need to go over there and kiss the man myself for this. It is so good,” I said around a mouthful of caramel and shortbread.

Bells tinkled before Agnes could respond and a woman in her sixties walked in, slowly, with a much older woman hanging on her arm. The older woman used a cane, had a thick braid of bright white hair hanging over her shoulder, and brilliant blue eyes tucked in a face filled with wrinkles. Her gaze landed on me.

“Eithne!” the woman crowed, her face alighting.

My heart skipped a beat.

Eithne . Do I resemble my great-grandmother? If that wasn’t freaky…

“No, Mum, you’ve never met this woman before.” The younger woman threw an apologetic glance my way.

“Welcome, ladies.” Agnes slid me a glance and lowered her voice. “Maureen suffers from dementia. It’s come on quickly and really changed their lives. She was quite active before the change.”

“Ah. That’s too bad.”

“Go on and finish your lunch. We’ll just prattle about.”

“Eithne.” Maureen said the name more sharply, as though she was upset I didn’t recognize her, her eyes boring into mine. “Don’t you know me, hen?”

“I’m …” I paused and changed my tactic. “Hello, Maureen, how are you?”

“You sound different.” Maureen tilted her head, confusion cluttering her face, and she reached up to grip a brooch she wore at her jacket, but it snapped off and tumbled to the floor.

“Och, Mum. You’ve dropped your brooch. Here, I’ll get it.” Her daughter bent and picked it up, examining the piece. “Such a shame. Looks to be broken.”

“No.” Maureen’s sharp cry of distress had me standing and moving across the room.

“May I look at it? I make jewelry. I might be able to help.”

“Would you mind? It’s an important piece to her.” Her daughter held it out to me.

It was a silver brooch, with what looked to be moss agate as the main stone, with intricate Celtic designs carved into the silver. It looked like she’d snapped the pin where it attached to the back of the brooch, an easy enough soldering job, but I’d need to bring it home with me.

“Would you be okay if I just popped home and soldered this bit? Would take maybe fifteen minutes tops, or so?” I held the brooch in the air.

“I can vouch for Kaia,” Agnes said. “She works for Blackwood Forge and also has her own jewelry line.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” A relieved look crossed the daughter’s face. “It’s the only thing that brings her comfort these days. She always puts it on.”

“Maureen.” I reached out and gently squeezed the woman’s arm. “I’m going to fix this for you, but I’ll just need to be away for a short period of time.”

“Of course you will, Eithne.” Maureen gave me a brisk nod as though she understood what I was going to do, and then slowly made her way to a bookshelf, a relaxed expression on her face as she peered up at the books.

“That’s her occupied now. She could look at the shelves for ages.” The daughter shot me a look of appreciation, and I gave Agnes a quick wave before I tucked the brooch in my pocket and left.

A sound almost like a “ gronk gronk ” caught me, and I looked up to see Murdoch flying above me. It was a different call than the low knocking sound he did when he was hanging out with me, but it didn’t sound like he was in distress or warning me about anything.

“All good?” I called.

Aye, lass. Maureen knew your great-grandmother.

“I wondered if that was the case.”

A woman across the street pushing a stroller gave me an odd look, and I smiled, waving at her, and realized I likely looked a bit odd calling out into the air. Pressing my lips together, I hurried down the lane toward my cottage and made a note about talking to Murdoch in public.

I didn’t want to get a reputation for being the weird newcomer who screamed at ravens in the street.

Once at the cottage, I made quick work of plugging my soldering iron in, and gently turned the brooch over in my hands, looking for a makers mark and to see if it was genuinely silver. Only then did I notice a small latch at the side. Easing it open, a tenderness curled around my heart. Inside, behind a little glass pane, was a singular lock of hair. This was more than just a brooch, it was a mourning pin. Common during Victorian times, people would often elaborately braid the hair of their deceased loved ones into their jewelry. This was just a simple memorial, for Maureen alone to carry, and I gently clicked the brooch closed again.

It warmed in my hand, and I could feel the love in this piece.

I wasn’t sure how else to explain it, but it was more than just the context clues of what I had been given. I could actually feel it. When I held the piece, a quiet joy filled me, steady and sure, and when I put it down on the table, removing my touch, the feeling went away.

An idea occurred.

I stood and went back to my door, opening it and poking my head out.

“Murdoch?”

Aye, lass. The raven swooped low and landed at my feet, tilting his head.

“Can you help me? I want to help recover Maureen’s memories. She’s fighting dementia, and I’m told it’s quite bad. I was thinking maybe I could do a spell?”

Of course. I’ll collect the rosemary.

With that, Murdoch disappeared into the sky and I squinted after him. The rosemary? And how long would this take? I didn’t want to upset Maureen by being away with her brooch too long. But Murdoch returned within a minute, rosemary in his beak, and I opened the door wider for him to fly inside.

Perching at the counter by the brooch, he dropped the sprig next to my tools.

“What am I meant to do with rosemary?”

Rosemary is traditionally used to help with memory. Add it to the locket, along with an intention spell to help unlock her memories.

I picked up the sprig of rosemary and looked from it to the locket. How was I meant to add this to the jewelry? Mulling it over, I went to a cabinet and pulled a bowl out. If I crushed it, I could likely add a bit into the part I soldered, and it wouldn’t hurt the strength of the bond. Or so I hoped.

“And that’s it? I just add it in and ask it to help?”

You need a spell to unlock her memories. Try this: By the breath of wind and roots of old, unlock the past, let memories unfold.

I repeated his words to myself and busied myself with my soldering iron, getting my silver solder ready, and crushing the rosemary. When the iron was ready, I scooped the tiniest amount of rosemary out of the bowl with my chisel, touched the iron to the silver solder, and then gently picked up the minuscule amount of rosemary. Moving with precision, I quickly joined the broken pin back to the brooch, focusing on keeping the solder neat and tidy. When finished, I put the pin in its holder and eyed my work.

“Shit! The spell.”

I’d been so focused on doing the work that I’d forgotten to add my intent. Annoyed with myself, I examined the brooch. Maybe I could shore up any areas that looked to be worn? Or add a small insignia on the back? Mulling it over, I spotted where one edge had worn down with time, on the back side of the brooch. Humming, I picked up the iron and added a small dab of silver. Once on, I pressed it flat, and then, squinting, I etched the tiniest of keys into the metal.

“By the breath of wind and roots of old, unlock the past, let memories unfold.” I recited the spell as I reached for that thread of power inside me. For a moment, heat coursed through me, my skin tingling with power, and the brooch warmed slightly beneath my touch.

And then, just like that, it was done. Or so I hoped. I dabbed some pickling solution on the solder and glanced at Murdoch as I cleaned the top of my iron before storing it.

“Think that will do?”

Aye, lass. She’ll be very pleased to have her memories back.

“I hope so.” I stood up, pacing. “I feel good. Energetic. Like I want to go, like, race around the house or something.”

That’s magick. It can provide an adrenaline rush.

“Really?” I instantly thought about using magick during sex and my cheeks heated. Turning away, I opened the fridge. “Want some blueberries?” I needed to wait a few more minutes before I could clean the brooch and return to the bookshop.

Of course.

After I fed Murdoch, cleaned the brooch, and made quick use of the bathroom, I headed back to the bookshop. The sun shone today, with wispy white clouds threading the horizon, and a chilled breeze toyed with the frills of my hair.

“Oh good,” Agnes said, when I walked in. “I was just going to call you. Maureen was getting restless without her brooch.”

“Eithne, do you have my brooch?” Maureen asked from where she sat on the love seat.

“I do. It’s all fixed now. Just like new.”

“Here, Mum.” Her daughter took the brooch and held it up so her mother could see it, before she pinned it back on her jacket. “There. That’s you all sorted out.”

“My brooch.” Maureen reached up and curled her hand around it, her eyes on me. I waited, wondering if anything would happen immediately, or if it would take time.

A small gasp of air left her lips.

Her eyes held mine, incredulous.

“You’re not Eithne.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re her great-granddaughter, aren’t you? You’ve the look of her though. In your eyes.” Maureen’s daughter was peering at her in confusion.

“Mum?” Concern filled her tone.

“I’m quite all right, dear.” Maureen stood and without her cane she walked over to me, her gaze sharp and assessing as she looked up at me. She beckoned me to bend closer and reaching up, she gave me a hug. “It seems you’ve given me a key. And now I’ll return the favor. She’s left something for you. Step by step, you walk on me, beneath one tread, the treasure shall be.”

Maureen whispered the last part, and I committed it to memory, though my mind whirled in confusion. Step by step, you walk on me, beneath one tread, the treasure shall be? What in the world?

“Mum, what’s going on? Don’t you need your cane?” Maureen’s daughter stood, clenching her hands, her face hopeful.

“I’m much better and that’s the truth of it, dear. I can remember again.” Maureen’s daughter’s eyes filled and the two hugged while I turned away to give them a moment.

“Well done you,” Agnes murmured at my side, bumping my shoulder with hers.

“She gave me a clue of sorts,” I murmured back. “From my great-gran.”

“Even more interesting. I do love a riddle.”

“I have to go”—I checked the time on the antique clock on the wall—“if that time is accurate.”

“It is.”

“I’m expected at the forge for budget meetings. We’ll chat soon.” Agnes gave me a quick hug before I could leave, something I still wasn’t entirely used to with having very few female friends, and I stopped by the two other women on the way out.

“I’m Kaia, by the way. I don’t even know if we were formally introduced, but I have to go to work. Hopefully I’ll see you again?” I was dying to know what else she remembered about Eithne.

“Of course you will. It’s a great gift you’ve given us.”

My mouth rounded at her daughter’s words as well as at her fierce hug.

“Oh, I just fixed the brooch. Wasn’t a problem at all.” I shrugged.

“I don’t care what you did to it. It’s brought Mum back to us and that’s all that matters.”

With that, I left quickly, before the tears that threatened spilled over. I couldn’t imagine losing my mom or gran to dementia—they were both such shining lights in my life—and if nothing else came out of my stay in Loren Brae, this one moment might make it all worth it. It had been an honor to help Maureen, and I was delighted with the work I’d done today.

I’m proud of you.

Glancing up, I smiled at where Murdoch flew above me, my faithful sentinel.

“As I am of you. We make a great team, don’t we?”

Aye, lass.