product came off the griddle. She was barely able to hide a grin as the woman rounded the counter, unnecessarily smoothing her flour-dusted apron.
Mrs Mary’s eyes widened as she surveyed the scones, plump and resplendent with berries. Slowly, she reached out and took one, tearing it in half to inspect the insides, which she looked at as if expecting some monster to leap out of the treat instead of a few wisps of steam. When none did, she raised one half to her mouth and took a bite.
“Well, what do ye think?”
After chewing with excruciating slowness, Mrs Mary finally swallowed. “Wonderful,” she whispered in tones of awe. “Isla, they’re wonderful!”
Isla grinned. “So, ye think they’ll meet wee Ian’s standards, then?”
Mrs Mary flung a protective hand over the scones, looking scandalised. “Ian, phaw ! Ye must take these to Alexander straight away!”
“Alexander? But ye promised—”
“I’ll save a couple for the lad, but you—ye must go!” She seized Isla’s apron by the corners, dumped half the scones into it and shoved the warm bundle into her hands. “Such a bonny face, and a miracle-worker in the kitchen too! Alex will be so pleased, he—”
“I thought ye said it didnae matter if I couldn’t cook?”
“Och, well, I lied!” She seized Isla’s shoulders, whirled her around to face the door and prodded her unceremoniously in the small of the back. “Get one with ye, while they’re still warm!”
Isla let herself be pushed from the kitchen, bemused. While she wasn’t so sure the scones were the key to marital success, she was glad for an excuse to visit Alexander. Her time in the kitchen was the longest she’d spent without him since they’d met, and she felt his absence as acutely as the dull ache in her healing foot. She cradled her apron full of scones, regretting that he’d have to eat them without cream.
She found Alexander close to the stables, mounted on a grey gelding that danced beneath him, tossing its head irritably. It was one of the three colts he’d shown her, a young charge he was busy acquainting with the idea of carrying a rider. When she rounded the corner of the stable, he glimpsed her and turned in the saddle, a smile spreading across his face as he reined the animal in.
“Watch his head and feet,” he said, indicating his mount, which had turned a curious gaze upon Isla. “The bugger’s none so sure he likes this ridin’ business, and I amnae so sure I like ridin’ him, either. He’s got a stupid streak as wide as the day is long.”
Isla beamed, wishing Alexander wasn’t so high up so she could plant a kiss on his smiling lips. The horse was a good fifteen hands high though, so she settled for unbundling her apron, revealing its contents.
Alexander’s eyes lit up, and his smile widened. “Scones, and with currants. There’s nothin’ I’d like better at the moment. Give my thanks to Mrs Mary.”
He eagerly held out one large hand, and Isla pressed a scone into it, a pleasant shiver racing up her spine as his rough fingertips brushed hers. His grin made it difficult for her to suppress a smile of her own that was fighting to emerge.
“You’re an angel for bringin’ em’ to me,” he added, rendering it doubly challenging for Isla to keep a straight face.
The look of surprise that transformed his features as he bit into the pastry sent Isla over the edge. She grinned, and when he popped the other half into his mouth and eyed her apron hungrily, she laughed.
“Have ye tried these?” he asked. “Mrs Mary hasnae ever made anythin’ so delicious.”
“Well no,” she said, handing him another. “I havnae had one just yet.”
“Ye must.” He began to devour the second without hesitation. “They’re heavenly.”
Isla took one of the scones for herself and chewed thoughtfully for a few brief moments. They had turned out well, and the currants were so flavourful they almost drove thoughts of clotted cream from her mind.
Mrs Mary’s eyes widened as she surveyed the scones, plump and resplendent with berries. Slowly, she reached out and took one, tearing it in half to inspect the insides, which she looked at as if expecting some monster to leap out of the treat instead of a few wisps of steam. When none did, she raised one half to her mouth and took a bite.
“Well, what do ye think?”
After chewing with excruciating slowness, Mrs Mary finally swallowed. “Wonderful,” she whispered in tones of awe. “Isla, they’re wonderful!”
Isla grinned. “So, ye think they’ll meet wee Ian’s standards, then?”
Mrs Mary flung a protective hand over the scones, looking scandalised. “Ian, phaw ! Ye must take these to Alexander straight away!”
“Alexander? But ye promised—”
“I’ll save a couple for the lad, but you—ye must go!” She seized Isla’s apron by the corners, dumped half the scones into it and shoved the warm bundle into her hands. “Such a bonny face, and a miracle-worker in the kitchen too! Alex will be so pleased, he—”
“I thought ye said it didnae matter if I couldn’t cook?”
“Och, well, I lied!” She seized Isla’s shoulders, whirled her around to face the door and prodded her unceremoniously in the small of the back. “Get one with ye, while they’re still warm!”
Isla let herself be pushed from the kitchen, bemused. While she wasn’t so sure the scones were the key to marital success, she was glad for an excuse to visit Alexander. Her time in the kitchen was the longest she’d spent without him since they’d met, and she felt his absence as acutely as the dull ache in her healing foot. She cradled her apron full of scones, regretting that he’d have to eat them without cream.
She found Alexander close to the stables, mounted on a grey gelding that danced beneath him, tossing its head irritably. It was one of the three colts he’d shown her, a young charge he was busy acquainting with the idea of carrying a rider. When she rounded the corner of the stable, he glimpsed her and turned in the saddle, a smile spreading across his face as he reined the animal in.
“Watch his head and feet,” he said, indicating his mount, which had turned a curious gaze upon Isla. “The bugger’s none so sure he likes this ridin’ business, and I amnae so sure I like ridin’ him, either. He’s got a stupid streak as wide as the day is long.”
Isla beamed, wishing Alexander wasn’t so high up so she could plant a kiss on his smiling lips. The horse was a good fifteen hands high though, so she settled for unbundling her apron, revealing its contents.
Alexander’s eyes lit up, and his smile widened. “Scones, and with currants. There’s nothin’ I’d like better at the moment. Give my thanks to Mrs Mary.”
He eagerly held out one large hand, and Isla pressed a scone into it, a pleasant shiver racing up her spine as his rough fingertips brushed hers. His grin made it difficult for her to suppress a smile of her own that was fighting to emerge.
“You’re an angel for bringin’ em’ to me,” he added, rendering it doubly challenging for Isla to keep a straight face.
The look of surprise that transformed his features as he bit into the pastry sent Isla over the edge. She grinned, and when he popped the other half into his mouth and eyed her apron hungrily, she laughed.
“Have ye tried these?” he asked. “Mrs Mary hasnae ever made anythin’ so delicious.”
“Well no,” she said, handing him another. “I havnae had one just yet.”
“Ye must.” He began to devour the second without hesitation. “They’re heavenly.”
Isla took one of the scones for herself and chewed thoughtfully for a few brief moments. They had turned out well, and the currants were so flavourful they almost drove thoughts of clotted cream from her mind.
Similar Books
