Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Again!”
Noah’s voice cracked across the training yard like a whip. The two guards—sweating, panting, barely able to lift their swords anymore—dragged themselves through another slash.
“That’s one hundred and seventy-three,” Elliot called out from his spot beside Noah, keeping count with his usual annoying cheerfulness. “Only twenty-seven more to go, lads. Ye can do it!”
“I hate ye,” one of the guards gasped.
“That’s the spirit!” Elliot grinned. “Channel that hatred into yer form. Really put yer back into it.”
Noah crossed his arms, watching the men struggle through their punishment with a grim sense of satisfaction.
Four days of this—extra training, weapon drills, and physical conditioning that would have broken lesser men. But these two were holding on, if barely.
“They’re improvin’,” Elliot observed quietly, his tone serious now. “Their endurance is better than it was.”
“It needs to be.” Noah’s jaw tightened. “They failed in their duty. Let Esther slip away while they were supposed to be watchin’ her. That cannae happen again.”
“It willnae.” Elliot glanced at him. “They’ve learned their lesson, me Laird. They apologized, accepted their punishment without complaint, and they’ve been workin’ harder than anyone else to make up for it. Maybe it’s time to ease up?”
“After they complete today’s two hundred slashes.” Noah’s voice was firm. “And then we’ll see.”
Elliot shook his head but didn’t argue. He knew better than to push when Noah was in this mood.
The truth was, Noah wasn’t sure if he was punishing the guards or himself. He’d been the one to approve that trip to the village. He’d been the one responsible for Esther’s safety. And he’d failed her, just like he’d feared he would.
If Ava hadn’t found her...
He cut off the thought viciously. Ava had found her. Esther was safe. That was what mattered.
“One hundred and eighty!” Elliot announced. “Keep goin’, lads. Yer doin’—och, hold on. Is that Miss Harris?”
Noah’s head shot up quickly. There, walking along the path that skirted the training yard, were Ava and Esther.
They moved slowly, Ava pointing at different plants while Esther listened intently. Even from this distance, Noah could hear Ava’s voice carried by the afternoon breeze.
“—and this one here is yarrow. See the wee white flowers? It’s very good for healin’ wounds. If ye crush the leaves and apply them to a cut, it helps stop the bleedin’.”
“Like... like Uncle Noah’s arm?” Esther’s voice was soft but clear.
“Aye, exactly like that! Ye’re so clever to remember that.” Ava bent down to let Esther examine the plant more closely. “Now, this one over here is completely different. See the purple petals? That’s lavender. It smells lovely. Here, give it a gentle rub and then smell yer fingers.”
Noah found himself watching, transfixed, as Esther carefully rubbed a lavender sprig between her small fingers, then held it up to her nose.
Her face brightened with joy, and she whispered something too soft for him to hear. But Ava chuckled, a warm, sincere sound that stirred something strange in Noah’s chest.
The afternoon sun caught in Ava’s hair, turning it golden where it escaped her braid.
She’d worn it down this morning at breakfast, he remembered.
Long and loose around her shoulders, and he’d had to force himself not to stare, not to imagine what it would feel like to run his fingers through it again.
She’s beautiful.
The thought came to him before he could stop it, blunt and awkward. Not the gentle, careful kind of beauty that required distance to appreciate, but the kind that hit you when you were too close and not paying attention.
Strong jaw. Expressive eyes. A mouth that could either cut him down or laugh at him in the same breath. And right now, that mouth was explaining the difference between yarrow and lavender to an eight-year-old who listened as if it were the most important lesson she’d ever received.
Stop looking at her mouth.
“Ye’re starin’.”
Elliot’s amused voice snapped Noah back to reality. He turned to find his man-at-arms grinning at him like a cat with cream.
“I’m nae starin’,” Noah said flatly. “I’m observin’.”
“Oh, is that what we’re callin’ it now? Observin’?” Elliot’s grin widened. “Because from where I’m standin’, it looks an awful lot like ye were starin’ at Miss Harris with what I’d call a particularly intense sort of—”
“Elliot.”
“Appreciation. And is that a smile I see threatenin’ to break through? By God, it is! Quick, someone mark this day in the records. The Laird actually smiled at somethin’ other than a successful battle strategy!”
“I’m warnin’ ye,” Noah growled, but there was no real heat in it.
“She’s bonnie, I’ll give ye that,” Elliot continued, completely ignoring the warning. “And she’s got spirit. Did ye see her tear into Margaret the other day? That was magnificent. I thought the old bat was goin’ to run away.”
“If ye value yer ability to walk without limpin’, ye’ll stop talkin’. Now.”
“Och, come on! I’m just sayin’ what everyone in the castle is already thinkin’.” Elliot leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “The maids are takin’ bets on how long it’ll take before ye—”
“Before I what?” Noah’s voice dropped to something dangerous.
“Before ye do somethin’ about the fact that ye cannae keep yer eyes off her!” Elliot said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The whole castle’s seein’ it. The way ye watch her at meals. How ye made sure her rooms were right next to yers. The business with the bandits.”
“I was protectin’ me niece.”
“Aye, and Miss Harris.” Elliot’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come on. Just say it. Ye want her.”
“She’s me employee.” The words came out flat and certain, because they were true. That was the beginning and end of it.
“Aye, and ye’ve been near combustin’ every time she sits down to dinner.” Elliot tilted his head. “Daenae tell me ye havenae noticed. I’ve seen the way ye look at her mouth when she’s talkin’.”
Noah said nothing, which, he knew, was its own kind of answer.
“See? Ye cannae even say it.” Elliot looked triumphant. “Noah MacGregor, the great Laird who faces down enemy clans without blinkin’, completely undone by a wee village lass.”
“Ye’re enjoyin’ this entirely too much,” Noah muttered.
“Someone has to! Ye’re always so serious, so focused on duty and responsibility. It’s good to see ye interested in someone, for a change.” Elliot’s expression softened slightly. “She’s good for ye. And she’s brilliant with Esther. I havenae seen the lass so happy in... well, ever, honestly.”
That much was true.
In a few days, Ava achieved what two years of various caretakers couldn’t—she made Esther feel safe enough to speak, to laugh, and to be a child.
This morning, Noah had actually heard his niece giggling over breakfast.
And Ava... Ava had defended Esther like a mother lion protecting her cub. Had stood up to him, a laird, without flinching. Had kissed him back in his cottage with a passion that still kept him awake at night.
“I daenae have time for this,” Noah said finally, watching as Ava and Esther moved further down the path. “I have a clan to run, a niece to raise.”
“And a bonnie lass livin’ right next door who clearly affects ye whether ye want to admit it or nae.” Elliot shook his head. “Ye’re allowed to be happy, ye ken. Allowed to want somethin’ for yerself instead of always puttin’ duty first.”
“This conversation is over,” Noah said with finality. “Now get back to countin’. How many have they done?”
“One hundred and eighty-five. But daenae think ye can distract me that easily—”
“Elliot.”
“I’m just sayin’, if ye fancy the lass, maybe ye should actually do somethin’ about it instead of just broodin’ at her across the dinner table every night—”
“That’s it.” Noah turned to face him fully. “Ye can join them. Four hundred sword slashes.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. “What? Ye cannae be serious! I was just teasin’ ye!”
“Aye, and now ye’re bein’ punished for it. Four hundred slashes. And if ye keep talkin’, I’ll make it six hundred.”
“But Noah…”
“It’s me Laird, when I’m givin’ ye orders.” Noah’s voice carried the weight of absolute authority. “Now get over there and start swingin’. Maybe it’ll teach ye to keep yer opinions about me personal life to yerself.”
Elliot opened his mouth to protest more, saw Noah’s expression, and wisely shut it again.
“Fine,” he muttered, stomping toward where the guards were still laboring through their slashes. “But it was worth it.”
Noah couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that tugged at his mouth.
“I heard that!” he called after Elliot.
“Meant ye to!” Elliot called back, then raised his voice to address the exhausted guards. “Right, lads, good news and bad news. Good news is ye’ve got company. Bad news is I have to do four hundred slashes because our Laird cannae handle a bit of friendly teasin’ about his obvious attraction to—”
“Six hundred!” Noah bellowed.
“Still worth it!” Elliot shouted back, but he was grinning as he drew his practice sword.
The guards, sensing a reprieve in their own suffering, actually managed faint smiles. One of them said something to Elliot that Noah couldn’t hear, and his man-at-arms laughed.
“Aye, that’s exactly what happened! The Laird’s gone soft over Miss Harris, and I’m the one payin’ for it!”
Noah shook his head, but he was fighting a smile.
Insufferable bastard.
Elliot was also his oldest friend, his most trusted warrior, and one of the few people who dared to speak to him with such familiarity. And maybe, maybe, he had a point.
Noah’s gaze drifted back to where Ava and Esther had been, but they had moved out of sight now. Probably gone back toward the castle to continue whatever lessons Ava had planned for the afternoon.
Was he that obvious? Did the whole castle really see it, the way Elliot claimed? Did Ava see it?
He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, feel pressured, or feel obligated because he was the Laird and she was his employee.
She’d come here for Esther, not for him. And after everything she’d been through, the abuse she’d hinted at, the poverty she’d escaped, the last thing she needed was her employer making unwanted advances.
But that kiss...
That kiss hadn’t felt unwanted. She’d kissed him back with a desperation that matched his own and had clung to him as if he were the only solid thing in a storm. And afterward, she looked at him with such confusion, longing...
“One hundred and ninety!” Elliot called out, breaking into Noah’s thoughts. “Keep goin’, lads. Only ten more and we can all collapse in misery together!”
Noah forced himself to focus on the training yard, back to his responsibilities. He had work to do. Duties to attend to. A clan to run.
He couldn’t afford to be distracted by green eyes and a sharp tongue and the memory of soft lips moving against his.
No matter how much he wanted to be.
An hour later, after the guards had finally finished their two hundred slashes and Elliot was still stubbornly working through his six hundred with increasingly inventive cursing, Noah retreated to his study.
He had council reports to review, correspondence to respond to, and decisions to make on trade agreements and border patrols.
But his mind kept dragging itself back to her.
Not to her competence with Esther, that he could file away cleanly, credit where it was due, and move on. Not to the way she’d stood in the courtyard and dismantled Margaret piece by piece; he respected that, but he could set it aside.
It was the other things he couldn’t let go of. The way she’d gone still when his thumb brushed her knuckles. The sound she’d made, barely a sound, and the way his eyes had immediately gone to her mouth before he had the sense to look away.
The memory of her in that cottage, her hands in his shirt, kissing him back like she had no intention of stopping.
Fine.
He set the correspondence down.
Fine. I want her.
It wasn’t complicated. It was desire—blunt, physical, inconvenient. The same desire that had him lying awake at night, painfully aware that only a wall separated his bed from hers.
He could imagine it effortlessly: crossing that corridor, opening her door, and seeing if she’d look at him the same way she did in the cottage. Whether she’d make that sound again.
He paused with the thought for a moment before picking up the correspondence again.
She was his employee. She was here for Esther. She’d come from nothing, survived god-knows-what to get here, and the last thing she needed was her Laird showing up at her door because he couldn’t control himself.
Whatever she felt in that cottage, whatever he felt, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the type of man who took what he wanted at the expense of someone who had no real power to refuse him.
He would not act on it.
He read the same sentence from the trade report four times and retained nothing.
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding.
“Come,” he called, expecting Elliot with some new complaint about his punishment.
But it was Caitlin who poked her head in, her usual smile in place. “Beggin’ yer pardon, me Laird, but I thought ye should ken, Miss Harris has finished Esther’s afternoon lessons. The wee lass is nappin’ now.”
“Thank ye, Caitlin.” Noah set down the correspondence he’d been pretending to read. “How is Miss Harris settlin’ in? Is she comfortable in her chambers?”
“Oh, aye! She keeps sayin’ the room’s too fine for her, but she’s settlin’ in lovely.” Caitlin’s eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mischief. “She asks after ye, sometimes. Wants to ken if yer arm is healin’ well.”
Noah’s pulse jumped. “Does she?”
“Aye. Quite concerned, she is. Very... attentive to yer wellbein’.” Caitlin’s smile widened.
Christ. Not her, too.
“That’ll be all, Caitlin,” Noah said firmly, but he could feel heat creeping up his neck.
“As ye say, me Laird!” She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared, leaving Noah alone with his thoughts once more.
Ava asked about him. Worried about his arm.
Noah leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He realized his heart was racing at the thought of spending time with her, even if it was for the purpose of speaking about Esther’s education.