Highlander Unleashed

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

“I would like to introduce Miss MacGregor to ye,” Niall said formally the next morning when they arrived at the family solicitor’s office.

The man he introduced her to was perhaps just past middle age. He had a full head of caramel-brown hair that showed silver tips on his sideburns. He was also physically fit, not soft or pudgy as she would have expected for someone who spent most of his time in an office or at a desk in this century. Then again, life was neither luxurious or easy in these times.

The older man smiled. It was not a particularly warm smile and didn’t reach his eyes, but it didn’t seem forced, either. Professional, maybe. Somewhat like her college professors had used when welcoming students to a new semester. Approachable, but also aloof.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said.

“Likewise,” he returned although he didn’t offer his hand. “I am Fergus Gordon.”

Gordon? The family solicitor’s name was Gordon? As in Fiona Gordon? Charlotte glanced around the office quickly, half-expecting some female to emerge out of the shadows, but no one did. She took a breath. Maybe Fergus wasn’t the father. Gordon was a clan name, after all. Lots of them around, probably. She looked up at Niall expectantly, but he appeared to be studying a painting on the wall behind the desk.

The hair at her nape prickled. Was he deliberately avoiding looking at her? He’d been very quiet on the ride over, but she’d assumed that was because Simon had accompanied them to pick up supplies while they were in town. Would Niall not have warned her that she’d be working for the father of the girl his father wanted him to marry? Then again, why would he? Niall didn’t know Greer had told her about Fiona. And—this stung a little—maybe he wouldn’t care if he did know. She was an outsider, a stray guest. Fraser family matters would have nothing to do with her.

Except, of course, they did or she wouldn’t be here.

“I think ye’ll find Miss MacGregor capable of clerking duties.” Niall said now.

Those words brought her back to the present. Capable? Just capable? She found her voice. “Yes. In addition to keeping your office organized and your files up to date, I can also take notes and transcribe conversations with your clients. I can even go out and do whatever necessary research you will require.”

Fergus blinked and for a moment she thought she saw something close to amusement in his gray eyes. Niall’s smoke-colored gaze had darkened, though. Had she said too much? He looked more quizzical than angry, though. Probably because women didn’t run around doing research these days? Women were rarely allowed to even work in business offices. She needed to remember that, if she weren’t going to be asked questions she couldn’t answer without sounding like someone needed to be put into an asylum.

“I have someone to do the leg-running these days,” Fergus answered, “but I am quite sure he will be happy to relinquish the office routine to you. We seem to have a continuously growing stack of papers that need filing.”

Filing. Vi would have a fit that someone with a master’s degree in English literature would be put to filing papers. Luckily, Vi wasn’t here. Charlotte knew that in the eighteenth century, filing papers in an office was considered a prestigious position. She wouldn’t complain. She had, after all, wanted to clerk. Filing was definitely clerical.

She managed not to laugh at the literal irony of it.

****

Niall observed Charlotte in his peripheral vision as he pretended to focus his attention on the painting—which he’d seen dozens of times—hanging on the wall behind Fergus’ desk. She’d given him a look of inquiry as though she were expecting him to explain something, but he wasn’t sure what it could be, other than his own ambivalence at being at the solicitor’s office in the first place. He wasn’t in agreement with his father’s scheme, nor was he particularly in favor of Charlotte’s wanting to earn coin, although he couldn’t fault her for it, either.

He wouldn’t lie to himself. He didn’t want Charlotte to leave. In spite of his father’s and brother’s suspicions—he had to admit her explanation of her arrival was a bit shaky—he still didn’t think she was a spy. He admired the fact that she didn’t seem to be afraid of being alone in what was basically enemy territory. His father and Simon would probably argue that proved she was a spy—how many women were that brave or independent?—but to him, those were admirable qualities. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her, as well. Attracted. If he wanted to really be truthful with himself, he’d admit he wanted her in his bed.

Enough on that line of thinking.

“I think ye’ll find Miss MacGregor capable of clerking duties,” he said and then grew thoughtful at her answer. She wanted to go out and about and do “research”? He knew what his father and Simon would say to that. Opportunity to meet with her messenger. Luckily, Fergus cut that notion short.

“I suppose I should find Simon and leave ye here to get your bearings,” he said to Charlotte and then looked at Fergus. “What time do ye want me to return?”

“Midafternoon, I think,” he said. “That will give Keir time to show Miss MacGregor how things are organized and what needs to be done.”

“Kier?” Charlotte asked.

“Aye. My son.”

Niall thought Charlotte’s face lost a bit of color, but maybe it was the lighting. “Ye remember Keir, nae? The day ye and Greer went shopping?”

“I…uh, yes…I remember.” She took a breath and managed a small smile. “He seemed very nice.”

To him, it didn’t sound as though she meant it. He tried to remember if Keir had said anything to embarrass or upset her. His friend did push the edges of humor sometimes, but Niall didn’t think he’d said anything untoward that day. There hadn’t really been time for conversation. Fiona had inquired about how long she would be staying—

Fiona. Was that what Charlotte’s hesitation was about? While Fiona’s questions had seemed casual that day, she had not been exactly friendly. Charlotte wouldn’t know why, of course, since no one had seen the kiss beneath the mistletoe, but women seemed intuitively to pick up on those kinds of things.

Niall tried to search her face, but she was looking at Fergus, the smile—not her natural one, he saw now—still in place.

He was going to have to give this some thought, but for now, the best thing a man could do was leave.

****

Charlotte watched Niall go. For the first time since her arrival in this century, she felt truly alone. She’d been confused, certainly, and maybe a little afraid that she’d lost her mind trying to make sense of what had happened, but she’d not felt alone. Niall had been part of the circle dance—in which century, she wasn’t quite sure—and he’d been there when she woke at his clan’s castle. Since then, she’d not been out of sight of his family, other than the short time she’d spent talking with the lady at the bench of the river’s bank. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to count on his presence. Somehow, she’d always felt safe. Now, she was in a law office with a stranger who might be Niall’s father-in-law one day.

Mr. Gordon gestured to an armchair near the window. “If ye’d like to have a seat, Keir should be along shortly and he can show ye the proper sorting of the things on the desk.”

“Thank you.” She took the chair he’d indicated. “Don’t you have a daughter too? I think there was someone with your son the day we ran into them.”

“Aye. That would be Fiona.” He smiled widely. “She’s the apple of my eye, she is. Couldn’t have asked my wife for a better daughter, God rest her soul.”

It must have been the mother’s soul that was resting, since Fiona was alive and well when they’d met. “I’m sorry if you lost your wife.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “A fever took her when Fiona was a wee bairn. The lass practically raised herself.”

Did that mean she’d been given free rein? To run amok as she wished? She hadn’t seemed meek or docile that day on the street. Quite the opposite, but perhaps Charlotte was equating Fiona’s bright orange-red hair with a fiery disposition and was reading too much into an encounter that had lasted only minutes. Still. Now that Greer had told her about the circumstances, the girl’s questions seemed pointed and her eyes—a pale shade of blue that looked almost silvery—had been as sharp as the metal itself when she’d looked at Charlotte.

Did she think Charlotte competition? Was she competition? She knew Niall was attracted to her—the kiss had proved that—but was there more? Could there be more? If there were, she would have to tell Niall the truth about where she was from, and that would probably quell his interest faster than a pin in a balloon. She’d be carted off to the Scottish equivalent of Bedlam. It was all so complicated.

She looked out the window to the street below, hoping to see Niall somewhere, but there were only strangers going to and fro.

She really did feel alone.

****

For once, Niall was glad Simon was with him when they went to collect Charlotte later that afternoon. They’d had to wait on a shipment coming in from Nairn, and by the time it arrived, it was already midafternoon. It would have made no sense to take the wagon home and then turn around.

Not that Niall was a coward. He didn’t usually avoid conflict. In this instance, however, he was uneasy about how Charlotte’s day had gone. If Fiona had shown up at the office, things might have gone awry. Niall had already witnessed her sharp inquisition that day on the street. If she harangued Charlotte with questions—especially personal ones—the lass would suspect something was amiss.

For now, he wanted to evade any discussion about Fiona. While Keir knew his sister was interested in him, he had assured Niall that his sister’s attention was fleeting. Once she caught another admirer at a ceilidh, she’d refocus on her new conquest. He hoped his friend was right.

He made a quick perusal of the office when he entered and gave a thankful sigh when he didn’t see Fiona. Keir and Charlotte were seated at the desk with piles of papers and engaged in congenial conversation, as far as he could tell.

Maybe too congenial? Charlotte had just laughed out loud at something Keir said that Niall couldn’t hear. Damn it! Was Keir flirting with her? The man did have a natural way with women, damn it again. He took a breath. Maybe his friend was only testing Charlotte to see how she’d respond to flirtation, since Niall had told him he wanted to find out if she had any other paramours—he wouldn’t say spies—lurking about.

“Ye look like a thunderstorm about to break.” Simon raised a brow. “Did ye nae learn from Da to keep what ye are feeling from showing?”

“Of course I did,” Niall all bur growled and then made an effort to appear passive. He didn’t want Kier to think he was jealous. His friend would bait him no end.

Charlotte looked over, an expression of surprise on her face. “Is it time to leave already?”

Had she been having such a good time that she didn’t even know the whole day had practically passed? Niall started to furrow his brows, stopped, and attempted a smile. At least, he hoped it looked like a smile. “Aye, lass. The sun goes down early in winter.”

“Did ye have a good day?” Simon actually sounded sincere.

“Yes, we did,” Charlotte answered. “Keir has been very kind and terribly patient with me.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Keir said, “but ye are a verra quick learner.” He glanced at Niall and then smiled at Charlotte. “I look forward to learning about your other talents as well.”

Talents? Just what talents was Keir referring to? Niall started to glower but became aware of his brother watching him as Keir went to retrieve Charlotte’s cloak and then helped her on with it.

An elbow lodged between his ribs. “Ye did want Keir to find out about what the lass may be up to,” Simon whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Ye’d do well to remember it.”

Niall felt his teeth grind as he forced a smile to no one in particular. His brother was right, but he didn’t have to like it.