The Lass Who Kissed a Frog, Lee, Caroline [i have read the book a hundred times .txt] 📗

“But…” Shaking his head, Roland pushed himself to his feet, and was surprised when he stumbled slightly. “She said those things about ye. Terrible things,” he muttered, even knowing the words she’d said didn’t define her.

Lyon shrugged, and as Roland moved past him on his way to the brandy, he stood. Before Roland could pass, Lyon snatched the glass from his hand.

As Roland blinked woozily down at his empty hand, his brother asked, “What sorts of things?”

“She said ye…” Why couldn’t he recall exactly what she’d said now? “She’d called ye barbaric for wearing that kilt. She said ye were scarred and brutal and didnae speak, but grunted.”

Instead of being offended, Lyon shrugged and turned away—taking the brandy glass with him, damnation. “All those things are true.”

“What?”

Lyon took his time to replace the glass on the shelf, then turned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and planting himself between Roland and the brandy. Not at all subtly, to Roland’s way of thinking.

“All those things she said about me are true. Ye ken it. I ken it. The Oliphants ken it.”

Does he just shout cold commands?

Vanessa had asked her sister that, and Roland had bristled, even though he’d seen his older brother grow colder and less alive since his wife’s death.

Lyon was watching him, and dipped his chin in acknowledgement when he saw Roland understood his reasoning. “Dinnae blame her for speaking the truth, even if it was rude.”

“I did though,” Roland whispered, hating this guilt. He turned away from Lyon and stumbled back to the settee. “I did blame her. I set out to hurt her.”

“Then ye owe her an apology.”

“She’ll no’ accept it.” Roland wouldn’t accept it if she’d been deliberately cruel to him as he had to her. But then, now that he knew Vanessa, he couldn’t imagine her being deliberately cruel.

Oh, shite.

“Ye dinnae ken a woman’s mind, wee brother.” A ghost of a smile touched Lyon’s lips before he shook his head and moved to his desk. “If ye care about her—”

“I love her.”

It took Roland a moment to realize the words had come from his lips, and between one breath and the next, he knew they were the truth. He loved Vanessa Oliphant in a way he hadn’t expected to when dancing with her at the ball. He loved her, and he wanted a future with her.

But first, he had to apologize.

“Then go make it better, ye wee dobber,” growled Lyon. “And leave me to my silence.”

Roland knew he was in no condition to travel—neither back to Newfincy Castle nor to his own estate—but he could give his brother what he asked. As Lyon reached for one of the leather-bound tomes that lined the walls of the study, Roland closed his eyes and rested his head back against the settee.

His heart felt light and heavy at once. Light, because he’d come to the most amazing realization and was determined to ensure he did everything in his power to convince her of his sincerity. And heavy…because he wasn’t sure if he could.

But he would try.

The brandy made his head swim, but thoughts of Vanessa were more important. He lay in his brother’s home—his ancestors’ home—and with a slight smile on his lips, began to plan.

Again.

Here’s hoping ye dinnae fook this one up as badly as the last.

Indeed.

Chapter 10

“Oh, he’s on the right track now. That’s nice.”

“Indeed, Willa. I knew you’d be able to make this work out, despite the…minor hiccup in the middle of the story.”

“Minor hiccup? Grisel broke the ball, and we had to resort to tea leaves to see the characters going totally off-script!”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Broca, Grisel, both of you, be polite to one another. Seonag fixed the ball, and no harm was done. Yes, Vanessa dragged Roland across half the country, but it allowed them the chance to be together, and you’ll notice the golden ball from the original Number Forty-Seven was included, right?”

“Aye. That was a nice touch, Willa.”

“Oh, I cannae take credit for that, but thank ye all the same, Grisel.”

“What do ye mean, it wasnae yer doing?”

“Och, ye ken how these things work. It’s all outlined in The Book.”

“Indeed, Willa. And I am so proud of you for such a successful first assignment. All that’s left is for Roland to make his grand gesture to Vanessa, so she can see he’s really not such an arse after all—”

“And if she forgives him, she’ll have to forgive herself as well!”

“Well said, my dear. Now—”

“Wait! Wait, I’m still confused. If Willa didnae send Vanessa and Roland to York to fetch the ball, how did the story end up so close to our forty-seventh outline, eh?”

“Oh, Grisel, you know why.”

“Narrative causality?”

“Aye. All together now: Narrative causality.”

* * *

Staring at the lass in the mirror, Vanessa hardly recognized herself. She seemed…duller, perhaps? The smudges under her eyes were thanks to the poor sleep over the last week, and she knew she hadn’t been eating well either. All of that could explain how sunken she looked…and felt.

When she lifted her hand to brush her fingertips across her cheek, Vanessa barely felt it. She barely felt anything these days.

This is who ye are.

This lass in the mirror was who she’d become, and Vanessa was surprised she didn’t hate it. Aye, her mother had berated her, offering her all sorts of beauty fixes, but Vanessa had refused. She didn’t want her hair to return to its old luster, or her eyes to sparkle with—

Actually, she wouldn’t mind seeing her eyes sparkling again, but whereas looking in the mirror once caused her to sparkle with vain pride, Vanessa wanted her eyes to sparkle with love.

Sighing, she turned her face away.

Love?

Impossible.

“Staring at yer beauty again, sister?” Bonnie’s tone was teasing, but when Vanessa looked back to see the reflection of her sister standing in the doorway, she saw concern in her eyes.

And when Bonnie stepped into the room, her expression fell even further. “Ye’re no’, are ye?” she whispered, moving