Aprons For Gayle Ch. 02

Once Gayle threw the stick and Bessie splashed into the water, Hamish replied, "Yes, very peaceful."

Suddenly and very loudly two jets flew overhead quite close to each other. It was deafening with their low altitude. They watched the entire flight until they were out of sight.

"Well, it's usually quiet," Hamish corrected.

She chuckled. "Where did they come from, Sir?"

"Leuchars Air Force Base is five minutes away, although it's unusual for them to be flying now. Fast jets don't go off very often as they're away most of the time. There's a bench over here."

She followed him and sat down as gracefully as she could. Instinctively she looked down at her breasts and wanted to hide them. But she remembered what he'd said about not doing it. It was very unnatural for her to be parading around wearing practically nothing.

Bessie came out of the water, shook her body to get the water out of her coat and sat at Hamish's feet. After Gayle patted the top of the dog's head, she asked, "What were you saying about the house before I fell on my butt, Sir?"

"You can't see it from here, but down the hill on the far end of the house is the Tithe Barn and gardens. It was built 1498. This area is known for its plentiful game, and the horses were kept there at the time; another victim of war."

"What a shame, Sir. Other than the kitchen, has the house been renovated, like with running water and plumbing?"

"Yes, of course. We are no longer savages, Ms. Boyce. Father built the library himself shortly after I was born. He insisted it be kept within the style of the original, thankfully. Mum advised against it; he was no handyman. He almost killed himself several times, but the worst injuries he sustained were cut fingers and scraped knees."

His voice had gotten softer than he'd spoken before, but she put it down to the fact that he was petting Bessie and it must have relaxed him. After staring out over the water with a distant gaze, he went to the water's edge, picked up a rock and threw it into the tranquil lake. Bessie was about to jump in the water when Hamish told her to stay, which she did.

Debating whether she should stay where she was or go to him, Gayle waited a moment before she went and stood beside him, picked up a rock and threw it on the surface. It skipped four times before it sank with a deep 'thunk.'

Sensing a challenge and not to be undone, he picked up a prime rock -- small and flat -- and threw it expertly. It skipped so many times she couldn't keep count.

"Ha! I believe that was six, Ms. Boyce," he chided.

"I didn't realize we were betting, Sir," she replied lightheartedly.

"We weren't. I just wanted to see if I could beat you."

She laughed. "Touche, Sir. My sister Catelyn and I aren't very competitive with each other."

"I have a younger brother, and that's all we ever did growing up. Compete."

She was beginning to sense the emotion in his voice and didn't want to be too pushy by asking too many questions. Besides, it never once escaped her mind how odd it should feel to be talking with him almost naked. But it was becoming more comfortable -- or she was more used to it, maybe.

"It's a guy thing, I think, Sir, being competitive." Suddenly she let out a long wide-mouthed yawn.

"Very true. Are you knackered, yet?"

"It depends on what knackered means, Sir," she said lightheartedly.

"Are you tired?" he said slowly with a slight grin.

"I think I could pass out right now. Sir, do you think it'd hurt if I just close my eyes for an hour?"

"Hmm. How about I get you something to eat and then you can rest. I haven't caught up with today's newspaper."

The silence between them on the walk back gave her time to think. While Gayle had no physical attraction to Hamish, she was glad he at least showed some real emotion and admitted he was wrong. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to have sex with him, not that it really mattered. The thought wasn't completely sickening to her but more of the unknown that made her apprehensive.

"Here we are," Hamish said as she found herself standing in front of a side door. When she looked up at him he was staring at her strangely.

"Sorry, Sir," she said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Have a seat," Hamish said, nodding his head to the kitchen table. "Would you like some more coffee?"

Bessie sat at Gayle's feet but watched Hamish excitedly. Petting the dog, she replied, "Thanks, but no Sir. When I have too much and I'm exhausted my mind won't stop and I never get to sleep." She had to catch her breath. "I also ramble."

"I know what you mean." He opened the refrigerator and peeked inside. "Hmm, looks like it'll be cullen skink."

She crinkled her nose at the name. "That doesn't sound very appetizing, Sir. And it's not shellfish, is it?"

Taking out a container, he set it on the counter and pulled out a cooking pot. "No, and stop getting your knickers in a twist. I told Mrs. Harrower you are allergic. It's a simple soup with smoked haddock, potatoes and onions.

"Oh, okay. Thank you." She watched as he put the soup in a pot and warmed it on the stove. "Sir? Does David live in the village?"

"Hmm? No, he doesn't. He lives in the caretaker flat on the far side of the property."

"And all he does is drive you around, Sir?"

He chuckled. "No. He's also the gardener and handyman. I wasn't blessed with Father's skilled hands."

"He seems nice, Sir."

He turned and looked at her sharply. "You fancy him?"

"What? No Sir, of course not. Just curious, is all."

"He's off limits to you." She was surprised at his jealousy and was about to comment when he added, "Sorry to disappoint you, but he's gay."

"Oh. OH! Solves that problem, then," she chuckled, though he didn't join her.

He contemplated her comment for a moment before he dug out bowls and placed them on the table. He gave Bessie a small, dog bone treat, and she scurried under the table, happily munching away.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Just water, please, Sir."

A few minutes later, Hamish sat across from Gayle and began to eat the soup. "How do you like it?"

She didn't like it, not really. She tried not to wrinkle her nose. "It's okay. I'm not much of a fish eater, but it's good."

"You're a horrible liar."

"I am. I can never remember the lies I tell so I don't even bother. Sir? How long has Mrs. Harrower been cooking for your family?"

"Since before I was born. She is also the housekeeper. Anything you need for the house, toilet paper, cleaning supplies, just let her know."

"Yes Sir. Thanks. I was wondering about that. And with cooking I haven't cooked anything really fancy before, especially skully skunk soup. I'm worried about using the stove and oven, though, and especially the washer and dryer."

He chuckled at the name. "On Tuesday, Mrs. Harrower will show you how to use everything as well as where she keeps the cleaning supplies. You will have to wear your blouse and skirt while you are around her until you are on your own."

"Thank you, Sir. I wouldn't want to turn your white ... whatever you wear pink." She blushed.

"Nor would I, if I wore underwear. I think by Wednesday you'll have it down pat to begin your routine. Oh, balls. I forgot the bread."

She relaxed somewhat as he retrieved the bread basket and set it on the table.

"Sir? May I ask another question?"

"You just did," he replied as he sipped his whisky.

She simply nodded and ate a few more spoons of soup.

He wanted to test her. She was more than he had hoped for, so far. "Ask away. I don't mind questions. I just don't answer them twice."

She looked up at him and leaned back, trying to get comfortable. "Okay. Mrs. Monroe said it was a small castle, but I wasn't expecting the size. Do you think it's something I can handle, cleaning wise?"

"Ms. Boyce, I don't expect you to clean every single room in one day. It is manageable for one person."

Suddenly she yawned and tried to finish the last of the soup. Her eyes were dry and her eyelids were becoming heavier by the minute.

"If you're finished I can take you upstairs to your room."

She stifled another yawn. "Yes, please, Sir."

Hamish stood and hooked his fingers. She looked at him confused. "I'll need your trainers. You'll only need them on our walks." After she took them off she handed them to him. "Slip your heels back on."

She did that as well, though she groaned when she stood in them.

"Right, then. Follow me. Come, Bess."

Walking out of the kitchen through the curved doorway was a long hallway with many, many portraits hanging on every wall. Immediately to the right was a closed door where the dining room must be. Looking around further as they walked, she first noticed the slanted, dark-wood beams supported by horizontal beams. She couldn't even begin to imagine how old they were.

As they passed the alcoves, which either had a side table with a small lamp or a chair, opposite were floor-to-ceiling oval windows that alternated with each alcove. Looking out she saw an adjoining two-story building in the back.

As she stepped into the beam of sun from the windows, she realized it wasn't as cold inside as she expected. "Sir, why isn't it colder? I thought all castles were cold, damp and dreary."

He smirked. "Oh, that they are. The living areas are heated with the multi-fuel burner. The estate woodlands provide all the wood needed. It also heats the water for bathing. I usually burn a fire in the small drawing room, though, and there are fireplaces in each bedroom.

In the center of the hallway to the right was a fireplace and above that was a beautiful portrait of a hunter on his horse with several dogs in the lead on the edge of a forest. Seeing her interest, he said, "That was my 11th great-grandfather, Seamus McDougal in 1592."

Gayle was speechless and gazed at him in amazement. "How do you keep them so well preserved, Sir?"

"I repaint them every year," he answered seriously. "Takes me a week to do a two-inch area."

"Really?! That's ... wait, you can't be serious, Sir."

He laughed. "Of course I'm not. I have a local conservationist clean them every few years and a specialist to keep the dust off. They are so high up on the walls that it wouldn't be wise to have you up on a ladder."

She returned his laugh. "Good one, Sir. I fell for that."

He thought she had a quick wit as well. He loved her sassiness, specifically at the restaurant in Virginia. She had already proven she would be quite the challenge, yet a challenge he would look forward to.

He couldn't help but notice she looked at every single painting, and though he didn't wait to dawdle he, told her, "The majority of the paintings are my ancestors going back almost five hundred years." She looked at him with her mouth agape. "Close your mouth, lass. It's not very becoming."

She promptly did with a grin. "Sorry, Sir. It's just I don't have photos of my own great-grandmother. These are incredible."

"I can tell you who they are, if you'd like, but not now."

"Thank you, Sir. I'd like that."

He put his hand on the small of her back and led her down the rest of the hall, all the while Gayle admiring each one she passed. For some odd reason she was beginning to like the security he gave her by gently physically guiding her.

At the closed door he opened it and motioned for her to go through. She walked into the huge main foyer. To the right was the main entrance, and in the center was a large vase with flowers sitting on a large, antique table. The stairs were to the left, covered with a red and black carpet and very wide; beyond them was another fairly wide hallway, but she couldn't see what other rooms it led to. There were four closed, double-doors, but she wasn't about to ask what rooms they were; she had plenty of time to be given the grand tour later.

Following him up the wide stairs, she noticed in the landing two Queen Anne chairs in a beautiful embroidered design and a small table, but she didn't stop to inspect it further. They walked the short hallway, passing six closed bedroom doors.

"Sir? There are six bedrooms I'll need to clean?"

"There are five bedrooms, mine and yours, which you will clean daily. The four guest rooms will only need to be dusted and hoovered once a week, as they're rarely used."

"Hoover, Sir?"

"Vacuum."

"Oh. Okay, Sir."

"Right, here we are," he said as he stopped in front of the farthest door on the right at the end of the hall.

She thought her bedroom might be part of the tower, or connected to it, at least. Her assumption was confirmed when he opened the door, but she didn't move an inch as she looked into the room.

The misshapen stone walls of the oval-shaped room were painted white with only a slit of a window that barely let any sunlight in at all. The only furniture in the room was the double bed with plain wooden headboard and footboard, a small nightstand with a tiny lamp, a wardrobe, a four-drawer dresser and a chair. The room was no bigger than a walk-in closet, and she thought he was playing a joke on her. But then she saw her suitcase in the corner.

Suddenly she felt Hamish's eyes burrow into her. When she turned to look at him, he said, "Remember what you said about rewards?" She nodded tentatively. "Prove yourself and you'll get one of the en-suite guestrooms."

Nodding, she asked, "May I use the bathroom, Sir?"

She was surprised her voice was as terse as it was, but she was more than surprised and disappointed at the size of the room. It was like he was blatantly telling her she wasn't worth a damned thing.

"This way."

She followed him to a door on the left at the top of the stairs then he opened it. Walking through the doorway, Bessie wanted to come in with her but Hamish stopped her.

Closing and locking the door behind her, she sat on the toilet while looking around the room. The walls were brick-sized, lightly colored stones. To the left was a slate sink with cabinets underneath, and on the right was a vanity with more cabinetry and a small window.

A third of the far wall had light tan-colored tile squares, while the remaining wall was painted a lighter shade of the tile squares. Just above the tiles was a narrow, marble mantel with two clear vases and several candles. The beautiful tub looked like marble the same color as the mantel. The fixtures were surprisingly ornate.

When Gayle was finished she walked out and headed back to her bedroom. "At least the bathroom is bigger than my hole-in-the-wall bedroom," she whispered sarcastically.

Still he heard her. "Ms. Boyce, keep up that attitude and I will enjoy tremendously giving you punishments, and often," he warned.

As they approached her bedroom door, she turned and said, "Then it's a good thing it doesn't start for two weeks."

Hamish was done with Gayle at that moment. Catching her off guard, he grabbed her by the ring of her collar and pulled her to him abruptly. She was more than flabbergasted at his aggressiveness. Staring into his face with wide, frightened eyes, her mind reeled in fear.

His face was an inch from hers. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "I don't recall ever saying such a thing. I said I would take it easy on you. As a matter of fact, since you somehow believe you're setting the rules, let's see how much you can take. I was going to wait a few days, but now I think tomorrow will be the perfect time to show you my dungeon. You still have a punishment coming from your stubbly pussy faux pas, but that will wait until Friday. I'm sure more will be added throughout the week."

He paused for her reaction and wasn't disappointed when her eyes flew open as well as her mouth. She thought better of saying anything and closed her mouth sharply.

"That's what I thought. I'll wake you up at three."

He left Gayle standing in the hall, her body shaking and on the verge of tears. She regretted ever accepting the position.