His Tarnished Ruby (The Scottish Stone Series Book 3) by Kelsey McKnight

Author:Kelsey McKnight [McKnight, Kelsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2017-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The train trundled past more rolling hills, their white tops glowing orange in the morning light. Flora leaned back into her velvet seat and clutched her plaid wrap tighter around her shoulders. She thought it strange how as soon as she stepped onto the train, she was shedding one part of herself for the other. When she left Scotland, she discarded her tartan and loose locks in favor of lace shawls and hairpins. And when she left England, she no longer wore her feathered hats and silk slippers and instead picked up her plaid and a pair of sturdy shoes for trekking the rocky slopes along the Scottish sea.

Flora had to wait two days to get her ticket for the train home. The snow had to be cleared, and a private cabin secured for her use. So for two whole days she laid in bed, ignoring Andrew’s cards and flowers. She couldn’t bear to tear open the small envelopes, so she had tied them with a ribbon and tucked them safely into her traveling case. She knew that she should have sent him word of her leaving, but found that she couldn’t bear the thought of telling him goodbye.

She heard a knock on her sliding door. Thinking it the breakfast she ordered, she rose and pulled it open to find Drummond standing in the corridor.

“Mornin’, Flora. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped aside and allowed him entry. They sat on either side of the cabin.

“How are ye?” he asked, looking out the window. “We should be there in a few hours, but I wanted to see that ye were well.”

“Fine,” she replied. “Where’s Penelope?”

He waved his large hand. “Ye know her. Can no’ be seen without dressin’ up, or some such thing.”

There was another knock on the door and a woman entered pushing a cart laden with tea, bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, potatoes, and biscuits. She left it between them, disappearing as quickly as she had come.

“Finally,” Flora sighed, immediately biting into a piece of bacon.

“That’s quite a breakfast. Did ye order for three?”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t have a full English breakfast?”

“But why so much?” Drum asked as he speared a sausage with his dirk and took a bite.

“Oh, yes, of course you can eat my food,” she said sarcastically as he took some toast.

“Ye can no’ eat all this, ye’ll pop like a tick.”

“Who cares if I get fat? All the proper spinsters are,” she explained, her mouth full of food. “I’m rather looking forward to not having to watch my figure as I raise a lovely heard of poodles.”

“And when have ye ever watched your figure?”

“I just want to drown my sorrows in fried eggs and pork. Is that so terrible?”

Drum nodded. “Aye. Aye, I think it is.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I know how ye feel and I know ye feel like shite.”

Flora put down her fork and took a sip of tea. “I feel fine.”

Drum draped his arms over the tops of the seats.

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