The Scotsman Who Swept Me Away by Hannah Howell

Author:Hannah Howell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2019-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Geordie built a fire in the fireplace in the sitting room, hoping it would ease the damp in the house. Mehitabel sat on the well-cushioned settee in front of the fire and picked up some sewing out of a bag next to it. Geordie sat down beside her, looked at the badly torn small shirt she held in her hands.

“Abel is a little rough on his clothes, aye?” Geordie asked, and winced a little as he thought on what Mrs. O’Neal would have to say about that.

She smiled. “Very rough on his clothes. He got caught up in a tree when wearing this. He was climbing the tree and ended up hanging from a branch by this shirt. Auntie stood under him in case the shirt finished ripping while I climbed up to get him.” She shook her head. “And I hate heights. Fortunately, Abel is a skilled clinger, so once he had a good grip on my back there was no trouble getting him down.”

“How old is he?”

“Almost nine. Small for his age, but my father was short and slight of build.”

“He spends a lot of time with your auntie.”

“I know. At times like now, that is actually a help but it is mostly because the school he attends is nearer to her home than mine and, well, I think she is often too aware of how empty her house has become. Uncle died several years ago when his fishing boat went down, her youngest sons now work for Bennet, her daughter got married last summer, and her eldest son is at Harvard. She claims Abel gives her something to do other than sitting in a rocker and knitting.”

Geordie laughed. “I only talked with her for a few minutes, but I just cannae picture her doing that.”

“Neither can I, especially because she doesn’t knit. She does tat, make lace, though.” Belle pointed toward the long, low table in front of them with a lovely cream cover on it. “This cloth is some of her work.”

“Verra nice. My mither occasionally did some, but mostly before she had so many boys running around. Robbie did weaving before he got hurt. He made most of the carpets in our house. He loved doing it and he was verra good.”

Belle put her hand on his arm and, moved by the sadness in his voice, gently rubbed it. “I never make promises about healing, but I do believe his hand will be greatly improved. I did nothing to fix it as he was not wounded there, but my cream seems to be doing better than I ever expected.”

“Robbie actually thinks it is the way you have it rubbed into his hand, so I have been doing the same.”

“Huh.” She sat back and thought about that. “I will have to see to that tomorrow.”

He turned so that he faced her, and settled his arm along the back of the settee behind her. “What will ye have to see?”

“Just if massaging his hand really helps in some noticeable way.

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