I blush again, completely incapable of forming a coherent response.
— I’ll leave you with your friend, Keira says, heading toward the door. Jane, I’ll come get you at two for the fitting. And don’t forget Grandmother wants to see you afterward for the Quaich ceremony.
— The what ceremony? I squeak.
— Another tradition, Callum explains. Involving whisky, thankfully.
— After the morning I’ve had, I think I need a drink immediately.
— Now that’s a woman I like! Ewan exclaims. Callum, your fiancée is perfect.
Once we’re alone with Ewan, the atmosphere relaxes considerably. Callum transforms in his friend’s presence—his shoulders loosen, his expression softens—and I discover he’s capable of truly laughing, not just offering polite smiles.
We settle into a small adjoining sitting room where Jamison brings us tea and, thank God, a bottle of whisky. Drowning my distress sounds like an excellent idea. The butler reappears moments later with trousers, which he hands to Callum.
I look away while he changes.
— So, Jane, Ewan begins, pouring me a drink, how are you finding the Highlands so far? Aside from the risk of public undressing and unruly sheep.
I nearly choke.
— You already heard about Hamish?
— News travels fast in the village, he says with a grin. Especially when it involves Callum McGregor’s new American fiancée and her run-ins with local wildlife.
I shoot Callum a questioning look.
— Ewan’s father runs the village pub. He’s at the center of all information.
— Great. I’m already a local tourist attraction, I mutter.
— Don’t worry, Ewan reassures me. They already adore you. Anyone who survives dinner with Maggie McGregor and an encounter with Hamish earns the Highlands’ respect.
— And what about the one who accidentally reveals what’s under the McGregor heir’s kilt? I ask, trying to joke about my humiliation.
Ewan bursts out laughing.
— That puts you straight into local legend territory.
— Fantastic.
Callum places his hand over mine in a comforting gesture.
— Don’t worry. Ewan exaggerates, as always.
— Absolutely not, his friend protests. Jane, I should warn you—living here is like being in a small play where everyone knows your role except you.
I risk a glance at Callum, suddenly uneasy. That metaphor hits a little too close to home.
— Luckily, I have an excellent partner to guide me, I say with a forced smile.
— And me! Ewan adds. I’m officially your guide to the mysteries of the Highlands. First tip: never turn your back on a sheep. Second tip: whisky solves almost everything.
— Almost? I ask, sipping my drink.
— The things it doesn’t solve, it helps you forget—temporarily.
I laugh.
