Morgan MacKeage tightened the knotat his neck with a severe jerk, then tugged at the front of his silk tie with an impatient hand. He lifted his chin to free his throat and scowled at his reflection in the mirror.
“Ya can’t mean to wear those braids in your hair tonight,” Callum said, walking up and looking pointedly at the small braids running down both sides of Morgan’s head.
Morgan turned slightly and examined one of the braids. “And why not?” he asked, glaring back at Callum in the mirror.
“Because men don’t wear braids in this time.” Callum snorted and tapped the back of Morgan’s head. “Nor do they wear their hair so long. You look like a heathen.”
Morgan walked to the dresser and picked up a short leather strap. “I am a heathen,” he acknowledged. He pointed at Callum. “And I’ve agreed to go on this accursed date only because you nagged me into it. But it will be a cold day in hell before I cut my hair for a woman.”
Callum raised both his hands in surrender. “I appreciate the favor you’re doing for me.
And I’m not asking that you cut your hair. I’m just wishing you could be a bit more… well, more civilized. Just for tonight? Is that asking too much, Morgan, for you to dig out some of that charm you were once famous for?”
Morgan pulled his hair to the back of his neck and tied it with the leather strap. He grinned at his cousin. Poor Callum had definitely been bitten by the domesticating bug
—and she was named Charlotte Quill.
“And what, pray tell, is wrong with Mercedes Quill, that she needs her mother to find her dates?” Morgan asked. “Does she have pointed ears? Or is she missing some teeth?”
His grin turned into a scowl. “Dammit, she’d better not be five feet tall. I get a crick in my back dealing with short women.”
Callum suddenly paled. Morgan watched, surprised, as his cousin nervously smoothed down the front of his shirt and looked every place but at him.
“Ah, no. Sadie—she prefers Sadie to Mercedes—is a comely lass,” Callum said in a pensive voice. “And she’s tall, Morgan,” he added a bit desperately, taking a step forward and finally looking at him. “But there is something I want to warn you about.”
Morgan slapped his hand down on the bureau. “Dammit, I knew you were setting me up. What woman reaches the age of twenty-seven and still needs her mother to find her a date?”
“A perfectly fine woman,” Callum said, getting defensive. “But nobody is flawless.”
“And this Quill woman? What is her flaw?” Morgan asked, feeling a bit defensive himself. He’d agreed to this date only because he owed Callum for helping him build his house. Hell, one evening out with a woman, even if she stood five feet tall and was missing some teeth, was well worth two months of free manual labor. Or was it?
Morgan was getting an ache in his belly.
“Sadie Quill is perfectly normal,” Callum said, not looking at him again. His cousin began fidgeting with his own tie, tugging at the knot at his throat. “It’s just that… well, she was in a fire eight years ago,” Callum said to the floor. He looked up, his hazel eyes worried. “She has some scars.”
“She’s disfigured? From the fire?” Morgan asked, his defensiveness suddenly gone. It was replaced by suspicion. And a sudden thought. “Where are these scars?”
Callum waved a negligent hand in front of his body. “Her back, mostly, Charlotte told me,” he said. “Her left side and the inside of one arm.”
“And?” Morgan asked, his suspicion more focused.
Callum frowned at him. “And her hand,” he added. “She wears a soft leather glove on her right hand to hide her scars.” He pointed at Morgan. “You cannot back out on me now,” he said, his expression threatening. “I promised Charlotte. And I swear I’ll tear your house down board by board with my bare hands if you renege on our deal.”
Morgan rubbed his own hands together and started for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of missing this evening.” He looked back over his shoulder to find that Callum wasn’t following. “What? We’re going to be late.”
“One more thing,” Callum said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “When I introduce you to Sadie, don’t offer to shake her hand unless she offers first. She may be self-conscious with you because you’re her date, and I don’t want her to be embarrassed.”
Embarrassed? Hell. Morgan doubted embarrassment would be the first emotion the woman would feel. Shock was more likely. And a healthy dose of discomfort.
“Don’t worry, cousin,” Morgan quickly assured him, slapping himself in the chest.
“There. I just put on my mantle of charm,” he said with a smile. “For my date with your woman’s daughter.” He held his hand up in salute. “Long hair, braid, and all, tonight I will be a perfect gentleman.”
“Are you sure Callum warned this guyabout my scars?” Sadie asked for the tenth time in as many minutes.
Charlotte walked over and rearranged Sadie’s newly trimmed, gently permed hair over her shoulders. She smiled with motherly satisfaction.
“Callum promised me he’d discreetly broach the subject,” Charlotte warmly assured her. She straightened Sadie’s new silk blouse next, undoing the button at her throat.
“Here. You don’t need to look as if you’re being strangled. You have an elegant, long neck and a beautiful throat. Show them off.”
Sadie automatically reached up and pulled the edges of the collar closer together, but she didn’t redo the button.
Charlotte smoothed down her sleeves next, ending up by taking hold of Sadie’s hands and smiling at her again. “The color of that blouse sets off your eyes. And that new camisole is much prettier than those old body socks you’re always wearing. It was worth the drive to Bangor to go shopping for your outfit and find a professional salon. You’re beautiful, Sadie.”
Sadie felt her cheeks heat. She pulled her hands free and finished her mother’s job, smoothing down the front of her black linen pants. She tested the fit of her new shoes. It was the first time in her life she’d worn anything other than flats. Her mom had insisted that her blind date was a good bit taller than her, and so Charlotte had talked Sadie into two-inch heels.
She only hoped that she wouldn’t break her long, elegant neck trying to walk in them.
And that Morgan MacKeage wouldn’t turn out to be a dork.
Sadie couldn’t explain it, but she was actually nervous about tonight. She would never in a million years admit it to her mother, but she was also worried that she was slowly becoming one of those addlebrained old spinster cat ladies. How many more frogs was she going to have to kiss before she found her prince?
The really sad part was, Sadie was starting to consider herself lucky if even the frogs wanted to kiss her.
“You’re sure Callum prepared the hermit for what he’s getting tonight?” Sadie asked again, suddenly filled with anxious energy. “I mean, not just my scars but that I’m a bit of a klutz sometimes?”
Charlotte walked to the kitchen door and snapped on the porch light. “You’re not a klutz,” she said fiercely, turning back to face Sadie. “You can be graceful when you want to be. You just refuse to bother most of the time.”
“The point being?” Sadie asked, disgruntled that her mother had all but agreed with her.
“The point being that your abilities change in direct proportion to your interest in something. When you’re kayaking rapids, you’re not a klutz,” Charlotte said more softly, coming to stand in front of her again. “When you’re photographing wildlife, you never make a mistake.” She fluffed the padded shoulders of Sadie’s blouse. “And with the right partner, you could dance like Ginger Rogers.”
Somewhat mollified, Sadie turned to present her back to her mom and used both hands to point at her body. “Does the camisole drape properly to hide my scars?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at her mother. “Does it give my back a smooth line?”