A Christmas Romance in the Scottish Highlands (Scottish Highlands #6)

Chapter 27

27

ELLA

‘Mae!’ Ella called out as she guided Wyatt through the entrance of The Art House, feeling wrecked. She swiped a tear from her cheek as her godmother appeared from the back room and immediately swept her up in a warm hug. She’d called Mae as soon as she’d got back to her house last night, unable to stop herself from sobbing as she’d explained what had happened with Michael Charming, and how Alex had reacted. How he’d believed that she’d somehow tricked him and was determined to leave both her and Mistletoe behind.

‘I’m so sorry, lass,’ Mae murmured into Ella’s hair. ‘Have you heard anything from the eejit today?’

Ella shook her head, gulping in a wave of grief. ‘It’s not his fault. You should have seen how cold his da was.’ She could hardly believe how he’d behaved. ‘I’ve messaged Alex and tried to call a few times, but he’s ignoring me.’ She shouldn’t be surprised – he’d been so excited about showing off his landscape to his father and she’d ruined everything.

‘Ah lass, I expect he’ll come around now he’s slept on things.’ Mae pulled back and stroked a hand across Ella’s cheek, brushing away a fresh tear. ‘What about your picture?’

Ella sniffed. ‘I need you to sell it for me. I’m not going to let Alex’s father get anywhere near it. Alex needs to know that.’ She paused, long enough to supress the sob forming in her throat. ‘He needs to know he can trust me,’ she said roughly as her mind recalled the devastation on Alex’s face when his father had offered to buy her drawing. The way he’d looked at her, as if his entire world had crashed.

He’d been so wounded, but he’d hidden it well, tried to switch his feelings off, reject everything, especially her. Another tear tracked down her face and she brushed it away, irritated. She’d cried enough. She needed to do something positive.

‘So, where’s this masterpiece?’ Mae looked behind her and raised an eyebrow at Wyatt. ‘Did the dog eat it, or is it in your van?’

Ella had planned to pick it up this morning after she’d cleaned a client’s house. But as she’d approached Pinecone Manor in the van, she’d lost her nerve. Alex hated her and she couldn’t bear to see that look in his eyes again yet.

‘I asked Henry to bring it here,’ she said and winced when Mae’s smile dropped.

‘The bampot’s coming to my gallery again?’ she grumbled, letting out an impatient sigh as she began to fluff her hair and stroke her hands over her purple suit, smoothing it. ‘Do you think he’ll be long?’ She glanced at the front window and pulled a lipstick from a pocket in her jacket.

‘He’s due any minute,’ Ella said as Mae carefully applied red to her lips.

The entrance swung open and Sprout came bursting inside. He bounded up to Wyatt, his Santa hat bobbing cheerfully. The bloodhound groaned but let the terrier jump all over him as Henry walked into the gallery, carrying two canvases. ‘I’m here,’ he panted as he carefully put them on the ground, then he straightened again and spotted Mae.

‘So you are,’ she said, her tone cool. She strode across the gallery and frowned at the pictures which were wrapped in sheets of white paper. ‘You brought two?’ she asked Henry, clearly confounded.

‘Aye – one belongs to the lass.’ He pointed to the first canvas. ‘The other I painted for you.’

Mae huffed. ‘I don’t want any more of your truth, old man,’ she snapped, waving her hands as if warding him off. ‘You can take that away when you leave.’

‘We need to talk.’ Henry scrubbed his beard, his voice so soft Ella almost didn’t hear. ‘Just give me five minutes.’

Mae’s shoulders tensed and she stared at him with unease filling her eyes – then she seemed to give in. ‘Let me look at Ella’s picture first – once I’ve seen what the lass has done, you can have those minutes.’ She tapped her watch. ‘But I’ll time you – then you can go.’ She turned to Ella. ‘Do you want me to unwrap it?’

‘Aye, yes please,’ Ella said. She wasn’t ready to see the picture. She’d put so much emotion into the work, knew when she saw it again, it would hurt – but she steeled herself as Mae ripped off the covering and held her breath when the dogs were exposed.

‘Well, that’s—’ Her godmother’s tone was hushed. ‘Absolutely incredible, Ella…’ She shook her head as she took it in. ‘I knew if you had time to work on your painting, you’d only improve. You’re an amazing artist, lass.’ She squeezed Ella’s shoulder before nodding at Henry. ‘Perhaps even more talented than you.’

‘Aye,’ the artist said. ‘You’ve done everything I asked, lass. I can see the truth in this, and I can see flaws too.’ His agreement should have pleased Ella, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

‘Do you think you can sell it for me?’ she asked, turning away. All she could think about was Alex’s expression the last time she’d seen him, the accusation burning in his eyes.

‘I’ve got a few regular buyers I can call. I’ll take some photos and put it in the window of the gallery now. You really are a talent, lass.’ Mae sighed as she scoured the work, her expression filled with wonder.

‘Just don’t sell to Michael Charming,’ Ella insisted. ‘You can give it away – I don’t care – but not to him. The painting was for Alex.’ She gazed at the picture.

‘Does it have a story?’ Mae asked.

Ella nodded. ‘I based it on the logo of Charming Capital Management because it was important to Alex. But I added a little of Mistletoe in there too.’ Ella sighed. If you looked closely, the German Shepherd, Great Dane and husky were smiling at each other and wagging their tails. There was no rivalry here, no contest or need for approval – it was all about friendship, community and love.

‘Is that Sprout and Wyatt?’ Mae asked, pointing to the terrier and bloodhound.

‘Aye,’ Ella said. Alex had changed so much since he’d arrived, and it had started with the dogs. She’d hoped that including them would help him remember his time here, and her too…

‘I promise I won’t sell your picture to Alex’s father,’ Mae said firmly.

‘Thank you,’ Ella murmured.

Mae’s eyes drifted back to Henry who was watching them, and her dreamy expression suddenly disappeared. ‘You’d better take your five minutes now, old man. I’ve got a painting to sell.’ She tapped her watch.

Sprout let out a yap and abandoned Wyatt. He bounded across the room to Henry, perhaps intending to give him support.

Henry gulped and nodded, scratching his beard. He looked nervous. ‘You told me once you didn’t like my truth,’ he said gruffly.

Mae flinched. ‘You made me look like an old hag. If that’s your truth, I don’t want it. This was never about my vanity.’ She stopped and took in a long breath, visibly upset. ‘It was always about how you saw me.’ She blinked. ‘The picture in your head when I wasn’t around.’

Henry stared at her for a beat, his heart in his eyes. Ella wondered if her godmother had any clue as to how much this gnarly, grumpy and talented man cared. Then he took in a deep breath and knelt, ripping the white paper from the canvas before holding it up so Mae could see.

‘It’s me,’ Mae whispered after a few beats of heavy silence.

‘Aye.’ Henry swallowed. ‘And do you like this “you”, lass?’ His tone was muted and he waited for her reaction, scrutinising every reaction that flittered across her face.

‘I—’ Mae stopped, clearly lost for words.

Ella took a step back, almost tripping over Wyatt who was watching the couple too. It was as if no one else was in the room and she felt a fresh tear leak down her cheek – only this one was happy.

In the painting Mae wore a long, red shimmering dress – it bunched in at the waist and then flowed like water down her long legs. She looked curvy and her figure mirrored Mae’s exactly: voluptuous and full-on sexy. Even the neat blonde bob looked familiar, only in the picture it had been clipped away from her face, exposing the globes of her cheeks and clear, smooth skin. There were wrinkles, but they gave her face character, with a hint of wisdom, and somehow made her even more gorgeous.

She looked exactly as she did in this moment – but there was a brightness to her in the painting, a glow Ella recognised. One her godmother emitted when she was happy.

After a long silence, Mae shook herself. ‘That isn’t the truth.’ She turned to Henry, narrowing her eyes as she wrapped her arms around her middle. ‘I thought that’s all you dealt in?’

Henry scratched his beard. ‘That is the truth.’ He paused. ‘I just needed to look again.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Mae said. But there was something in her expression now. A sharpness. Curiosity. Maybe hope?

‘Perhaps the truth comes in more forms than I once believed,’ Henry muttered, his cheeks flushing. ‘I know for me, it changes from one day to the next. The last picture I painted wasn’t supposed to hurt you.’

‘It did,’ Mae said soberly, glancing again at the canvas Henry was still clutching, the bow of her mouth drifting up and then falling again as if she couldn’t decide how she felt.

‘I know.’ Henry gulped. ‘I want you to know I think you’re beautiful from any angle, in every light. I loved every inch of you in the last picture I painted because I adore everything you are. And I love you just as much in this one. You’re the same to me however my brushes, pencils or paints recreate you. That is my truth. I know I can be clumsy and thoughtless and I’m sorry I got things so wrong. But I love you, Mae.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s all my truth. I can only hope it’s enough.’ He cleared his throat, looking a little mortified by his declaration. It was so out of character, but so completely honest – Ella could almost see the truth seeping from his pores.

Mae brought her hands to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

‘I’m sorry,’ Henry cursed. ‘Lass, have I upset you again?’

‘Nae, you old fool – I just think I’m going to cry,’ Mae gulped.

‘Cry?’ He looked terrified.

‘In a good way, you eejit,’ Mae choked.

The artist gazed at her for a long moment, then he visibly relaxed. He balanced the edge of the portrait against one of the walls of the gallery, then slowly walked towards Mae.

She watched as he approached, as if fascinated by every movement, measuring and judging – her face alight. When Henry reached her, he took her into his arms.

Ella took a second step back, watching as they kissed. Her eyes burned with tears, but her heart was full. She might not have the ending with Alex she wanted, but at least Mae and Henry had theirs.

When the couple finally pulled apart, Henry noticed Ella standing in the corner. His cheeks burned a brighter shade of red and then Mae turned and saw her too.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, lass,’ she said, looking flustered. ‘We were talking about your picture.’ She cleared her throat noisily. ‘Perhaps we could pick this up later?’ she asked Henry.

‘Aye.’ The older man grinned. ‘You could come to Pinecone Manor – I’ll ask Aggie to cook.’

‘Soup?’ Mae asked, roaring with laughter when Henry’s jaw dropped. ‘Will Alex be there?’ she added, sobering when her attention flicked back to Ella. ‘I might have a thing or two to say.’

‘He’s not left yet.’ Henry pulled a face. ‘But he told his da he’s leaving today.’

‘I thought he might change his mind,’ Ella whispered.

‘What about the pantomime?’ Mae gasped.

Henry winced.

‘Then who’ll play Prince Charming?’ her godmother turned to stare at Ella, distressed. ‘There’s no one to step in.’ Ella opened her mouth, but there was nothing to say.

‘I can do it,’ Henry offered. ‘I know I’m a little long in the tooth, but?—’

Mae put a finger to his mouth. ‘My truth is you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.’ She pressed her lips to his again. ‘If the lad’s determined to go…’ She glanced at Ella, sympathy in her eyes.

‘Seems he is,’ Henry said gruffly.

Mae nodded. ‘Then I’ll call an emergency rehearsal this evening – everyone will need to know.’

Ella nodded, ignoring the ball of pain that had lodged in her throat as she watched Henry kiss her godmother again. Alex was really leaving. Even after he’d told his father that he’d return to Edinburgh, she’d secretly hoped he’d change his mind and give her a chance to explain. Then again, what could she say now that she hadn’t already said last night?

Ella glanced back at the picture. It might be her only hope – once Alex heard she hadn’t sold it to his father, perhaps he’d finally listen and forgive her for what she’d done.