Wake Me With a Kiss: A Fairy Tale Retelling (Regency Fairy Twists Book 1) by Samantha Holt

did
not appreciate their care but, goodness, she was hardly some wilting flower.
Ever since, they had been a little more protective of her.
    “It will stay dry,” Rose said, confidently.
    “As long as you do not go chasing anymore dogs. We have had our fill of
them.”
    “Rupert went with Hamish to Edinburgh.”
    Miss Taylor smiled, and Rose suspected she caught the wistfulness in her
tone.
    “They will be back before long, and I’ve no doubt he will have little
desire to leave Baleith again. Not when he enjoys it so much here.”
    Heat touched her cheeks at the housekeeper’s knowing look. She had not
said a word of Hamish’s promises. How could she? He had to speak with Aunt May
first. But the women knew her so well, it was hard to hide her appreciation of
him.
    Miss Taylor frowned. “Did I hear the bell? I’ll be but a moment.”
    Rose turned her attention back to the plant. The wild stems wound about
many of the other plants, and she propped her hands on her hips while she
decided where exactly to start. She heard the front door shut but there were no
voices. They never had visitors so it was likely some post or a delivery.
    Grasping a branch, she gave it a snip and cast it aside. Miss Taylor
stepped out into the garden, brandishing a letter. Her wide smile made Rose
pause.
    “What is it?”
    “A letter from Baleith Castle.”
    Even if she had tried, Rose could not have prevented the wild skip in
her heart as she took the letter. “I did not think he was due back yet.”
    “No one said he had returned whilst I was in town, but perhaps he has
only just come home.” Miss Taylor peered non-too-subtly over the edge of the
paper as Rose unbound it and unfolded the parchment.
    She frowned. Hamish had never written her any letters during their acquaintance,
but somehow she would not have expected such a feminine hand. She skimmed down
to the name at the bottom of the letter.
    “Miss Marianne Andrews?”
    The housekeeper’s expression darkened. “What in the devil does she want?”
    “That was the laird’s mistress, was it not?”
    “Yes. I thought she had left after his death.”
    Rose opened her mouth then closed it. She had never met Miss Andrews
formally, only seen her occasionally in town, but her reputation was well
known. Many thought her a seductress, while others muttered such horrible
things as a witch. As far as Rose was concerned, she had never met the woman so
could say nothing. The laird had kept her as his mistress for nearly a year
before his death and no one thought he intended to marry her.
    “At the castle…” she muttered to herself.
    “Pardon?”
    Rose smiled. “Nothing, Miss Taylor.” She peered over the writing. “She
wishes for me to visit with her. She said the laird is intending to return a
day early and it would be a nice surprise.” Rose frowned. “I suppose…”
    “I suppose he might have told her of his feelings for you.”
    That blasted blush travelled up her face again. “Perhaps.”
    “I’m surprised Miss Marianne Andrews is still in Scotland. The woman
should have been long gone by now.”
    “Maybe Laird Malcolm willed her something here. Hamish did say he had
business to attend with regards to Malcolm. Perhaps it was that.”
    “That would certainly make sense. If I were him, I would want rid of her
with haste. I never trusted her.”
    “You’ve met her?”
    “Once or twice in town. Your aunt rightly shielded you from her. A woman
of such repute could not be allowed near you.”
    The tiniest pang of sympathy struck Rose. In stories she had read, there
had been women who had made choices—choices they did not wish to make but needed
to. For all they knew, Marianne did what she did to survive, and yet she was
never allowed to make friends with anyone and everyone avoided her.
    “I think I shall accept the invitation.”
    “I shall come with you,” Miss Taylor declared.
    “There is no need. You are far too busy, and if Miss Andrews is there,
it will not