Page 3 of Christmas Wore Plaid

She whipped her head over her shoulder. Shrieked. A shape beyond the windowpanes lurked in the nighttime and looked to be…Brady MacInnes?

Her palm flew over her mouth and her heart fluttered with unease against her ribs as he gestured for silence with his finger across his lips.

“Goodness me! Emmy! Whatever is wrong?”

It was too late for silence. Aunt Bess was creaking the floor planks, waddling across her adjoining chamber, and if she saw someone at the window, she’d wake the house. Emerson scrambled to her dressing table and snatched up a pin, then bolted to her bedside.

“Worry not, Auntie!” she replied as her aunt burst through the door. “I merely found my hairpin!”

Her aunt halted in her nightgown, her finger looped with whitened knuckles through the taper holder. She braced the door frame, huffing heavily.

“It sounded as if a marauder had attacked you!”

“Nay, Auntie Bess. It was just this.” She held up the pin.

“Why scream about it?”

“Because I stepped on it and stuck my foot.”

Her aunt shook her head. “Goodness’ sake, child, I thought the worst. Go to sleep, and no more foolery. We’ve a long day in the morning traveling back to Crieff in that miserable carriage, what with the confounded jostling…”

“Aye, ma’am.”

Aunt Bess closed the door. Emerson palmed her chest, exhaling. Returning her pin to her vanity, she turned back to the window. Brady was gone. Her brow knitted. She tiptoed closer, unclasping the sash and hoisting it up. She cringed at the abrasive sound for fear she’d bring her aunt back through the doors.

A burst of freezing air lapped at her, catching her hair and lifting the lighter tendrils. She shivered, leaned out, looked left, then right—

She jumped and knocked her head against the window frame. Brady was flattened against the stonemasonry beside her, standing upon the semi-dome protruding from the exterior beneath him.

“Emmy!” He surged forth. “Are you all right?”

“Whatever are you doing here?” she whispered, rubbing the back of her head. “You nearly caused my Aunt Bess to faint.”

Brady smirked. “I believe your shrieking caused that.”

She scowled at him and stuck out her tongue. “Had she seen you lurking outside my window, she would have marched like the Prussian Army to the constable to report a letch.”

He smiled his disarming smile, his cheek dimpling. It was so genuine, and solely for her. She knew such a smile meant something special between them.

“I was merely practicing my part in the play,” he said.

“And what part is that?”

“Have you nay read ahead in the script yet? Why, Romeo climbs to Juliet’s balcony to profess his love.” A boyish twinkle lit his gaze.

She cast her eyes heavenward, though she loved his teasing. It wasn’t often that they were alone to speak so freely, but when they were, he never missed the opportunity to make her smile. Rustling upon her Aunt Bess’s bed through the wall made her flinch again. She shot another glance at the doorway, though couldn’t suppress her humor.

“So you pretend to be Romeo, eh?”

“Indeed, and you’re the Juliet in this frozen Fair Verona.” He gestured around them.

“Indeed not,” she whispered on a giggle. “I’m Juliet, from the Fair town of Crieff.”

He burst out laughing, too. “Fair Crieff. A sophisticated port of culture to be sure.”

“Shh!” she reprimanded, rolling her eyes again and pushing him back, but he did enjoy being exasperating.

Her aunt shifted once again and Emerson bolted upright, but this time, Brady’s hand cupped the back of her head to protect it from another bump.