Weekly updates (Weekends)
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Once they all quieted down, the old woman spoke to Siena and James. "Let us direct this argument a little more towards philosophy. Think of our many worlds, as possible worlds. Possible fictional worlds, existing...
James was up first in the morning, and Siena found him washed, dressed, and intent on preparing breakfast when she emerged from her room.
"Morning," she muttered, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her, too conscious of her still sleep infused eyes and her unbrushed hair. "That smells wonderful," she added, registering the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the room, interspersed with hints of honey and vanilla rising from something in the pan he was stirring.
"Morning, it's just porridge," he said, turning towards her with a smile, letting his eyes linger long enough on her silk shrouded figure to make her cheeks turn pink. She was gorgeous, and he found her more alluring the less polished and more natural she looked. Waking up next to her would be... He quickly gathered his wayward thoughts and forced himself to focus on what he was doing; the last thing he wanted was to serve her burned porridge. "It will be ready in a few minutes," he called even as she vanished into the bathroom, hiding from his sight.
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"That was the best porridge I've ever eaten," Siena said, wiping her mouth in a napkin once she had finished eating.
"Well, let me tell you that the Highland porridge really is the best, and you are lucky that Grandma Eilidh taught me the secret family recipe," he drawled, purposely exaggerating his irresistible accent.
"I thought you came from the Lowlands, Mr Boyd," Siena teased, pouring herself another cup of coffee which he had prepared, with cream and honey instead of milk and sugar. Even that was delicious.
"My father was from Glasgow, yes. But my mum's family is from the Highlands, she is a MackIntosh of Inverness. That's how I get to live by Lochness; the old cottage I restored belonged to my great grandparents."
"Wow," Siena said, closing her eyes while she rummaged through her memorised knowledge of Scottish clans. "That's a red-based tartan, with shades of blue and green..."
She found him staring at her when she opened her eyes again.
"That's some admirable knowledge," he said, making her drop her eyes before she would start blushing. "It makes for a nice kilt."
Her eyes snapped back to his as he said that, and the question spilt out of her mouth before she could stop herself, "Do you ever wear a kilt?"
James chuckled before he replied, and she wasn't sure whether his gaiety was caused by seeing her now blazing cheeks or whatever memory her question brought back to him. "I do. We try to keep the traditions alive, and so we create enough occasions throughout the year to dress up in our Scottish finery."
"Wow," she said again, her imagination ablaze as much as her cheeks. It was high time to change the subject. "So, did you finish your article last night?" she asked, reminding herself that there was a Claire waiting for him in Inverness.
"I did," he said, feeling disappointed by the change of subject. Siena really had an intriguing interest in Scotland and its history and tradition, which he would love to explore and exploit.
