Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Noah plunged another dish into the wash basin, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ava bustled around the small kitchen, muttering to herself about everything she needed to accomplish that day.
She was... unexpected.
That was the word that kept circling through his mind. Unexpected.
He’d expected a simple village lass who’d be grateful for the chance to work at the castle.
Instead, he’d gotten a woman who argued with him at every turn, who stood up to him without flinching, who’d literally positioned herself between him and Esther, as if she could somehow stop him if he meant harm.
It was infuriating.
It was also refreshing. Most people in his life either feared him or wanted something from him. The council members who constantly pushed for political marriages. The warriors who sought his approval. The servants who scurried out of his way with their eyes downcast.
But Ava? Ava looked him straight in the eye and told him he was a bastard. Called him out when she thought he was wrong. Didn’t seem to care one whit that he was a laird.
“—and then I’ll need to speak with Mrs. Crawford about who can take over me volunteer shifts, though Lord knows Agnes has been wantin’ more responsibility, so perhaps... are ye even listenin’ to me?”
Noah blinked.
Ava stood with her hands on her hips, one brow raised in defiance. Even when irritated, there was something magnetic about her—the way her green eyes flashed, the defiant set of her jaw, the wisps of hair slipping from her braid to frame her face.
“Ye were talkin’ about Agnes,” he said mildly, dragging his attention back to the dishes.
“I was talkin’ about Agnes five minutes ago! Just now I was askin’ if ye thought Esther needed new shoes before we leave!”
He looked down at his niece, who was sitting on the floor, playing with what seemed to be a collection of smooth stones. Her shoes were worn but still usable.
“She’s fine for now. We’ll have the cobbler at the castle make her new ones when we arrive.”
“Ye have a cobbler at the castle?” Ava blinked. “I suppose ye probably have everythin’ at the castle.”
“Nae everythin’.” Noah dried the last plate and set it aside. “But enough to be self-sufficient, aye.”
Ava shook her head, going back to her muttering and list-making.
Noah found himself watching the way she moved—quick and efficient, like someone used to getting a lot done in a short time. She kept shoving escaped hair back impatiently, her brow furrowed in concentration as she mentally catalogued everything that needed to be done.
She’d be perfect for Esther.
That was the thought that had been solidifying in his mind since last night. The previous nanny had been adequate at best—she’d kept Esther fed and clothed, but there’d been no warmth there. No real affection. Just someone doing a job.
But Ava? Ava truly cared. He’d seen it in how she protected Esther yesterday, in the gentle way she coaxed the girl to eat, and in how she held her this morning when Esther clung to her. The way she positioned herself as a shield between his niece and the world.
And more than that, Esther had spoken up to protect Ava. His niece, who rarely said more than two words a day to anyone, who flinched away from strangers and hid in corners during gatherings, had found her voice because she was worried about this woman.
That alone was worth seventy-five pounds a year. Hell, it was worth more than that.
“Uncle Noah?”
He looked down to see Esther standing next to him, holding a stone. It was smooth and grey, with a white line running through it.
“That’s a fine stone, lass,” he said, crouching down to examine it properly. “Where’d ye find it?”
“In... in the yard,” Esther whispered, her stutter less pronounced than yesterday. “It’s... It’s pretty.”
“Aye, it is.” He studied her small face, noticing more color in her cheeks than there had been in days. The hollow, haunted look that had been there since she went missing was finally fading. “Are ye happy to be goin’ home?”
Esther’s expression became complicated—part relief, part anxiety. “Will-will Ava really c-come?”
“Aye, lass. I gave her me word.” He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “She’ll be at the castle with ye. I promise.”
Esther nodded, then caught him off guard by stepping closer and leaning against his knee. Not exactly a hug, but nearer than she had willingly gotten to him in months.
Something in Noah’s chest loosened slightly.
Maybe this would work after all. Maybe with Ava there to bridge the gap between them, he could finally figure out how to be what Esther needed. How to be more than just the uncle who provided food and shelter but didn’t know how to provide comfort.
“All right, I think I’ve got it all sorted,” Ava announced, startling them both. “First the tavern, then the orphanage, then I’ll need to pack me things, which willnae take long since I daenae have much, and then tomorrow at dawn we can... Ehy are ye both starin’ at me like that?”
“Nay reason,” Noah said, straightening. “When do ye want to leave for the tavern?”
“As soon as I’m ready. But ye daenae have to come with me. Ye could stay here with Esther, let her rest.”
“We’ll come.”
Ava’s eyes narrowed. “I can handle Malcolm meself, ye ken. I’ve been dealin’ with him for three years.”
“I’m sure ye can.” Noah crossed his arms. “But ye’re under me protection now. And I’d like to see this tavern master of yers; make sure he understands that.”
“Under yer protection?” Ava’s voice rose slightly. “I’m yer employee, nae some delicate flower that needs guardin’!”
“Nay one said ye were delicate.” Though watching her square up to him, all righteous fury and flashing eyes, Noah had to admit there was something... appealing about her fire. “But ye work for me now. That means anyone who gives ye trouble answers to me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s nae ridiculous. It’s how things work.” He could see her gearing up to argue further, so he decided to change tactics. “Besides, Esther wants to come. Daenae ye, lass?”
Esther, bless her, nodded enthusiastically. “I... I want to stay with Ava.”
Ava’s expression softened immediately, her anger deflating like a punctured wineskin. “That’s nae fair, usin’ her against me.”
“All’s fair in negotiation, Miss Harris.” Noah allowed himself a small smile. “So are we goin’ to the tavern together, or are ye goin’ to keep arguin’?”
She glared at him for a long moment, then threw her hands up. “Fine! But ye’re to let me handle it meself. Only step in if I actually need ye.”
“Agreed.”
Though as they left the cottage a short while later, Noah had no intention of standing idly by if this Malcolm character proved difficult. Ava might be independent and capable, but she was now his responsibility.
And Noah MacGregor protected what was his.
The Bell and Thistle tavern was already crowded despite the early hour—apparently, market day drew out both the drinkers and the shoppers. Ava pushed through the door, the familiar smell of ale and unwashed bodies hitting her like a wave.
She’d spent three years working here. Three years of long shifts, aching feet, dodging wandering hands, and pretending drunken insults didn’t sting.
And now she was walking away.
“There ye are!” Malcolm’s voice boomed from behind the bar. “Thought ye werenae comin’ in today! We’re already short-handed and—”
“Malcolm, I need to speak with ye.” Ava made her way through the crowd, very aware of Noah and Esther following behind her. She’d asked them to wait outside, but apparently her new employer didn’t take suggestions well.
Malcolm’s eyes flickered to Noah, then back to Ava. His expression shifted, curiosity mixed with annoyance. “What’s this about, then?”
“Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Private?” Malcolm laughed, gesturing to the crowded room. “Does it look like I’ve got time for private conversations? Whatever ye need to say, say it quick.”
Fine. If he wanted to do this publicly, they’d do it publicly.
Ava straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and looked Malcolm square in the eye. “I’m quittin’. Today’s me last day.”
The noise in the tavern didn’t stop, but several nearby patrons turned to look. Malcolm’s jovial expression vanished like morning mist.
“Ye’re what?”
“I’m quittin’. I’ve been offered another position, and I’m takin’ it.”
“Another position?” Malcolm’s face was starting to redden—never a good sign. “After everythin’ I’ve done for ye? I gave ye a job when no one else would! I let ye work the best shifts, the ones with the highest tips!”
Ava bit back a bitter laugh. “Ye gave me the shifts no one else wanted because they were the longest and the hardest. And I’ve worked them without complaint for three years. But I’m leavin’ now. I’ll work today to give ye time to find someone else, but after that—”
“Nay.” Malcolm slammed his hand on the bar hard enough to make glasses rattle. “Ye’ll work until I say ye can leave. Ye think ye can just walk out on me? I’ve got contracts with the brewery and suppliers who expect certain income levels. I need ye here, Ava.”
“I’m sorry, Malcolm, but I’ve made me decision.” She kept her voice steady and professional. She wouldn’t let him see that his raised voice was making her pulse quicken. “I appreciate the opportunity ye gave me.”
“Sorry?” Malcolm’s voice rose another notch, loud enough that the entire tavern was watching now. “Ye’ll be more than sorry when I tell every tavern owner in this territory that ye’re unreliable! That ye break yer commitments! See how ye like findin’ work then!”
“I’ve already found work,” Ava said quietly, fighting to keep her temper in check. “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ye.”
“Where? What kind of work could possibly be better than what ye have here?” Malcolm was working himself into a proper fury now, his face going from red to purple.