Chapter 2
“Good mornin’, me Laird,” the councilmen greeted when Adair entered the council chambers.
He nodded and took his seat, eyeing them warily.
He was usually the first to arrive at the council meetings, and he found it odd that the six of them would be present so early or that they would have asked for a meeting when they weren’t set to have another until next month.
Even Abel, who was usually the last to arrive, was already present and had a grim look on his face.
Did something happen last night?
He eyed his man-at-arms, who was standing against the wall, but Fergus shook his head. If he knew nothing of the situation, then it meant nothing of great import had happened.
“Shall we begin, then?” Adair asked.
“Aye,” the councilmen chorused.
“Me Laird,” Douglas MacIntyre began, rising to his feet. “We wish to discuss a matter of grave importance with ye.”
“Go on,” Adair allowed.
“Thank ye, me Laird.” Douglas nodded once. “Yer braither’s marriage is set for autumn, and that is well. But the clan looks to its Laird, nae its Laird’s braither, for an heir.”
Adair frowned.
This is what they want to discuss?
They had been hounding him for years to take a wife, and he had hoped Callum’s impending nuptials would make them hold their tongues, but it seemed that was not to be.
“I am aware of that,” he answered.
“That isnae enough, me Laird,” Nathaniel Boyd stated. “Ye are more than ready now, and the time has come for ye to take a wife and sire an heir. Ye have been Laird for twelve years, yet ye have no wife or sons.”
Do they think wives grow on trees?
Had he not been busy strengthening the clan and ensuring they survived the long winters with food in their bellies and wine in their cups?
“I have secured a noble alliance through Callum’s marriage,” Adair answered.
“Callum’s children willnae inherit, me Laird, and ye ken this,” Douglas pointed out. “We have come to a decision that if ye willnae choose for yerself, the council will be forced to put forward a name on yer behalf.”
Adair stood, and the force of it sent his chair clattering to the floor with a loud bang.
The councilmen jumped in fear.
“Ye willnae put forward any name on me behalf,” he warned, enunciating every word. “I will choose me own wife in me own time.”
“We only wish to protect the clan by securing the bloodline sooner rather than later,” Nathaniel insisted with a pointed look. “Surely ye can understand that our concern isnae unfounded.”
Stubborn old codger.
They were not wrong to ask that he wed and produce heirs, but he didn’t like how they were pressuring him into doing so, ignoring all the other good things he had done for the clan over the past years.
“I willnae delay in choosing a wife,” he said firmly. “In one month, by the time me braither is wed, I will give ye a name. Until then, this matter isnae up for further discussion.”
“Aye, me Laird,” they conceded.
Adair left the council chambers, needing to work off the tension in his body.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and he knew it was none other than Fergus. His councilmen had no doubt stayed back to speculate amongst themselves about his proclamation.
He didn’t even know what had possessed him to make such a gamble, but now that he had, his mind was quickly trying to come up with ways to escape.
“That was rather interesting,” Fergus drawled, falling into step beside him.
“I ken,” Adair grunted. “I cannae believe those old codgers tried to bully me into choosing a wife.”
“Aye,” Fergus scoffed, shaking his head. “’Tis most unbelievable.”
Adair sensed the mockery in his tone and turned to glare at him. “Are ye mocking me, Fergus?”
“I would never dare,” Fergus answered.
Adair sighed. “Even ye have turned against me.”
“It is rather odd for ye to have remained unwed until now, me Laird.”
“I have had a lot more on me mind than marriage and heirs,” he retorted, hating how he was forced to remind everyone of that.
Winter was almost upon them, and with some parts of his estate crumbling, he needed to see those repairs finished so his people didn’t freeze. Then, there was the matter of visiting the borders, where he hadn’t been in some years.
“We ken,” Fergus answered. “And ye have done well, but ‘tis time to secure yer future.”
Adair sighed again.
“A month isnae long, me Laird.”
“I am aware, Fergus.”
“Do ye have a plan?” Fergus asked.
Adair damn well didn’t, but he would be damned to hell before he admitted as much to anyone.
“This is yer workstation, lass,” Mrs. Donnelly announced, ushering Emily into what looked like a morning room.
It was large and well-lit, and there were already a few women in there at work. They eyed her curiously, but their gazes didn’t linger, soon returning to their work. The atmosphere was light and lively as they chatted while they worked.
Emily felt her anxiety ebb the longer she stayed in the room, more so when she eyed the fabrics and threads offered to her.
They were of such fine quality that her hands itched with the desire to begin working.
She could create so many lovely patterns with this loot before her.
She took her seat and eagerly rifled through them, her body thrumming with excitement to begin working again.
She had thought it would take her longer to find employment, but this opportunity that had all but fallen into her lap excited and scared her at once. She would have to do her very best to prove her worth here.
“Who will the garments be for, mistress?” she asked, looking up at the housekeeper.
“Oh, I’ll have none of that,” Mrs. Donnelly protested. “Ye can call me Mrs. Donnelly like everyone else, and ye’ll be making garments for the Laird.”
Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “Surely ye daenae mean to entrust me with such responsibility so early, Mrs. Donnelly?” she protested.
“I’ll have none of that either, lass,” Mrs. Donnelly chided. “Ye claim to be a knitter, and I intend to see if ye have any skill.”
“But the fabric is so expensive,” Emily cried. “What if I ruin it?”
Mrs. Donnelly gave her a smile that suggested there would be hell to pay if she did.
“Then we’ll find another way for ye to earn yer keep and replace the fabric,” she answered. “Now come, we need to take the Laird’s measurements. He should be finished with his meeting now.”
The housekeeper led her through the halls, which were almost overwhelming and allowed her to appreciate the enormity of the castle. She stopped outside a set of double doors and knocked.
“Enter,” a gruff voice called out.
Both stepped inside.
Emily kept her head lowered so as not to offend, although she spotted two men standing in the room.
“What will ye be needing, Mrs. Donnelly?” one of them asked in an authoritative tone that made her shake slightly.
“I have brought a new knitter,” Mrs. Donnelly answered, “and I need her to take yer measurements for new garments.”
“I daenae have the time, Mrs. Donnelly,” the same voice answered. “Come back later.”
“It must be done quickly, me Laird,” Mrs. Donnelly insisted. It baffled Emily that the woman was so bold as to talk back. “The wedding isnae far.”
The same man sighed. “Alright.”
“Come, lass,” Mrs. Donnelly called.
Emily lifted her head, trying not to stiffen when she saw Fergus, whom she recognized from the night before, and another man who stole the breath from her lungs.
He was dashingly handsome, with eyes a lovely hazel that shone with a warmth as familiar as her own face in a mirror. His tall frame and broad shoulders exuded power and authority.
Emily found herself feeling anxious as he regarded her.
His gaze was warm and assessing, his full brows dipping slightly as he studied her face. She lowered her eyes and ran a hand over the skirt of her dress to smooth out invisible wrinkles. She wanted to make a good impression on this Laird so that at least she didn’t lose her new job.
The Laird and Fergus were standing by a large desk at the far end of the room, close to the window that cast soft light over them.
“This is Emily, me Laird,” Mrs. Donnelly introduced, and Emily curtsied. “She has been tasked with making yer new garments. Emily, I will leave ye to finish here. Ye may return to the morning room when ye’re done.”
“Aye, Mrs. Donnelly,” Emily answered.
“I will take me leave as well, me Laird,” Fergus said, and stepped out after Mrs. Donnelly.
Emily’s heart thudded at being alone with the Laird, but she forced herself to be calm and take out what she would need from her pockets.
“Where do ye want me?” he asked suddenly, startling her.
“Right there is fine, me Laird,” she answered, turning to face him.
He nodded, and she moved closer.
She lifted her eyes to his again and found herself enraptured by those hazel depths. They were warm and so comforting that all her earlier anxieties melted away.
“What is it?” the Laird asked, looking down at her.
She averted her gaze. It wasn’t in any way proper for a servant to look directly at the Laird.
“Nothing, me Laird,” she answered quickly.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the tape to his shoulders, and she saw his lips dip in a frown.
Oh nay. I have displeased him with me hesitation.
Squaring her shoulders, she moved more decisively, placing the tape more firmly against his frame. She was wholly unprepared for the heat that raced up her arms at the contact.
Her breath hitched in her chest, surprise filling her when he stiffened as well. She didn’t risk looking up at him but continued to take his measurements, swallowing as the heat of his body seeped through her dress.
Her fingertips tingled where she touched him, the sensation strange and fascinating. Despite his clothes, she felt as though she were touching a furnace.
His proximity allowed his scent to wrap around her. He smelled like the outdoors: dew and freshly cut grass and something rich that made her want to inhale deeper.
She still couldn’t understand why she was acutely aware of him when she didn’t even know anything about him.