Page 76 of A Secret Scottish Christmas

Ailie gave him an indulgent smile. “Do not look so disgusted at our beloved haggis. Rabbie Burns himself thought the dish worthy of an ode. He called those who looked down upon the humble haggis ‘poor devils’, while those who delight in the rare taste he called ‘warriors’.” She began to quote from the poem she had learned as a young girl, “But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed, the trembling earth resounds his tread.”

“I would be willing to try it,” Nash said, bravely she thought. “For you.”

She laughed. “If you could see the look on your face, Nash, you’d see how unconvinced you appear. You might want to confine your celebration of the New Year to salmon and dessert.”

His countenance brightened at the word dessert. Teasing him about food had become great fun, but she didn’t want him to dislike anything about Scotland. Perhaps she might encourage him with talk of sweets. “For dessert we’ll have shortbread, Dundee cake and clootie dumpling.”

“I have had your shortbread and it’s very good, and cake I understand, but I have no idea what a clootie is.”

“That’s just the cloth in which we cook the sweet dumpling. Emily tells me the dumpling is a little like your Christmas pudding, but not as rich. The one Martha makes is her mother’s recipe made with treacle and served with custard.”

“I do know what treacle is,” he said proudly, “and I approve.”

“At last we find common ground,” she teased. “You will like the dumpling. Oh, and sometimes the cook stirs in charms that speak of the future.” She pursed her lips, concentrating. “Let’s see… Finding a coin means wealth; a ring signifies marriage; and a wishbone promises the finder his heart’s desire.”

He took a sip of his wassail and winked. “Some of those possibilities appeal.”

“Some are not so popular. A man who finds a button and a woman who gets a thimble are destined to remain unwed.”

Nash frowned. “I wouldn’t want a button, not since I met you, Ailie.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words and the intense gaze that went with them. Did he hint at a future together? She took a sip of her wassail. “Nor do I desire a thimble since meeting you.”

Fortified by the wassail and warmed by Nash’s presence, Ailie was ready for the English Christmas dinner. When their butler announced, “Dinner is served,” Nash offered his arm and the two of them strolled into the dining room with the others.

On the way Nash, explained that after the Christmas feast they would typically play games, which, if one lost, one had to pay a forfeit. “Such as a kiss under the kissing bough.”

His seductive smile reminded her of their walk in the snow early that morning. She might have to let him win. It would be the first time she looked forward to losing at anything.

Nash pulled out a chair for her, whispering in her ear, “I’m just not sure I want to kiss you while others are watching. It would have to be a very proper kiss, which, all things considered, would require great restraint on my part.”

Having observed Nash in conversation with the Mistress of the Setters, oblivious to all around them, Robbie had taken his leave from the parlor to undertake a reconnaissance of the Stephens’ property. He wanted to see if any of Kinloch’s protectors might be lurking about. Though he couldn’t be positive that he had been followed that day on Marketgate, there was still the matter of that morning when he and Nash had been clearly observed in church.

Only one of the guards he had seen in St Thomas Tavern impressed Robbie as being astute enough to take note of those sitting around him. That man was the one called Derek whose penetrating gaze Robbie had felt more than once.

Careful to take cover under an eave or behind a tree, Robbie made two slow circles of the house and shipyard before returning. While he hadn’t noticed anyone, save a stable boy tending the horses, that didn’t mean someone hadn’t been there, silently lurking, making note of the fine estate that hinted at connections to London. Then, too, there were landed Scots who supported the government. Kinloch’s guards might assume the Stephens were among them. Derek would consider all of them a threat to the fugitive he guarded.

Robbie only hoped that with the Panmure sailing tomorrow, Kinloch’s guards had more important things to consider.

He entered the house, handed the footman his coat and went first to the parlor to warm himself by the fire, lest he signal to the others he’d been outside. Explanations were bothersome.

When he finally arrived in the dining room, everyone was already seated.

Ailie waved to him. “Nash told me you had been detained, so I saved you the place next to me.”

Robbie slipped into the chair, nodding a greeting to Nash, and gave the Mistress of the Setters a brilliant smile. “There is nowhere else I’d rather sit.”

Ailie smiled with her beautiful eyes. “A rake’s supreme compliment.”

“You missed the soup,” said Nash shortly from Ailie’s other side.

“But here’s the fish, now,” Ailie encouraged. She peered at the silver platter the footman carried. “Cod, I think.”

“Better late than never, Mr. Powell,” chided Muriel.

Robbie returned the countess a grin bordering on a smirk. “Do not forget, dear Muriel, we have an appointment beneath the kissing bough.”

“Humph,” came her reply. “By the bye, Ailie, lovely velvet bows on the chandelier.”