Chapter 2 #2
“How long have ye worked here?” he asked suddenly, and the rumble of his voice through his chest almost caused her to drop the tape.
She realized then just how intimate their position was, alone in his chambers with her hands roaming over his body. If he were a less honorable man, he would have ravished her, and she would have been powerless to stop him.
She pushed the scandalous thought away, though her cheeks reddened.
Clearing her throat, she answered, “I just arrived, me Laird.”
He nodded, and she resumed her work in silence.
When she measured his arms, she bit her lip, her mouth going dry. His arms were muscular and spoke of a strength that both scared and reassured her.
Fergus had mentioned him yesterday when she had arrived, and she had found herself curious to meet the laird who inspired such obedience in his men even in his absence. She had expected him to be old, but the man before her was younger than she had thought.
And there was the matter of his eyes. A warm hazel that pulled her in and assured her that she was safe, and indeed she found herself believing that she had nothing to fear.
She wrapped the tape around his biceps, trying to ignore how he stiffened underneath her touch. Was he perhaps feeling the same sparks that spread across her skin wherever they touched?
“Ye—” He broke off when the door suddenly opened and Fergus entered the chamber.
“Pardon the intrusion, me Laird,” Fergus said quietly, “but there is a matter that requires yer attention.”
Emily stepped back to allow the Laird to attend to it, but he didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on her, surprising her.
“Handle it, Fergus,” he answered with an annoyed look.
Fergus took a wary step forward. “I’m sorry, me Laird, but the man asked for ye specifically.”
The Laird turned to him then with a hard look. “Then have him wait.” His tone brooked no argument.
Emily gave Fergus an apologetic look.
“As ye command, me Laird,” he said, bowing his head. But before he left, he spared a glance at her. She didn’t move until the door closed behind him.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Emily didn’t know whether moving would annoy the Laird, so she stood still with the tape in her hands.
“Continue,” he said suddenly.
“Aye, me Laird,” she squeaked, nodding.
She stepped closer, and the tape trembled in her hands as she moved behind him to measure his back.
She lifted it again across his frame, grateful he couldn’t see her, and secretly admired his muscles and strength. His broad shoulders were warm to the touch. She had not thought much about men’s bodies before, but he had an attractive back.
“Ye are very quiet for a knitter,” he commented, startling her out of her salacious thoughts.
Emily didn’t know why she suddenly found it hard to maintain her composure around this man when she prided herself on her ability to keep her reactions in check.
“I daenae think knitters are ken for their conversational skills, me Laird,” she answered after a pause.
“Ye think wrong,” he said, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “The last one wouldnae stop talking.”
Taking a page out of his book, she kept her tone light as well.
“Then perhaps ye are pleased to be rid of her,” she joked, moving in front of him to note down the figures.
“Perhaps I am,” he muttered.
Her eyes met his, and she found herself trapped in his warm gaze. If anyone walked in now, she would be scolded for taking such liberties with the Laird. But how could she be blamed when he had such lovely eyes that stirred fragments of her strongest memory?
She cleared her throat and averted her gaze, moving to his arm again.
“Havenae ye measured me arms already?” he murmured, causing her cheeks to redden again.
She tried to take a step back, but heavy footsteps crossed the stone floor behind her.
Has someone been here all this time?
Emily turned and found herself face to face with a tall grey deerhound. Her eyes widened, for his muzzle was nearly level with her chest, and she wasn’t slight of height.
She froze, not daring to move.
The Laird looked behind her and spoke softly, “Stand still, lass. He doesnae like strangers. I will call him off.”
But before he could, the dog lowered his heavy head and rested it gently against her arm, leaning his weight against her as though he had known her all his life.
Emily turned to look at the Laird. “What shall I do, me Laird? Shall I pet him?”
He looked as stunned as she felt. “He doesnae normally accept people so readily, but I think it should be fine,” he said after a long minute.
She nodded, resting a hand atop the great beast’s head.
“Good day, love,” she cooed with a smile. “’Tis very nice to meet ye.”
The dog rumbled softly, and she smiled, patting his head.
“He is beautiful,” she commented.
“Aye,” the Laird said, his voice full of pride.
“What’s his name?” she asked curiously.
A long pause followed, which made her wonder if she had asked the wrong question. She turned to him, only to see a dark look in his eyes.
“I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldnae have asked.”
“’Tis alright,” he assured her. “His name is Alec. He is a rather old codger at thirteen but somehow still kicking.”
She laughed softly, but she didn’t look away from him.
“That means ye’ve ken him almost half yer life,” she said.
“Aye,” he answered. “He was me faither’s and has been mine since…” he trailed off, swallowing.
She sensed the memory was a painful one and thought to change the topic.
She stroked the dog’s soft grey ears, smiling as he closed his eyes. “He has good taste, me Laird,” she said, drawing the Laird’s gaze to her. “Submitting to two good owners in one lifetime. He is luckier than most.”
The Laird watched her for so long that she thought he wouldn’t say anything, but then he spoke.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “It would seem that he is.”
Patting the dog one last time, Emily moved back. “Ye must excuse me now, dear Alec,” she told him. “I must report to Mrs. Donnelly, or she’ll have me head.”
The dog whined, as if to protest her leaving.
“’Twas a real pleasure to meet ye,” she added. “Let us play some other time.”
She folded the tape and picked up the sheet of parchment on which she had noted the Laird’s measurements.
“If there is nothing else, me Laird, may I be excused?” she asked, looking at him again.
The dark look had finally left his eyes, and he nodded once. “Aye, ye may.”
With a final curtsy, she left his chambers.
When she was finally alone, she heaved a deep sigh, leaning against the wall. Her encounter with the Laird was most random, and while she worked until evening, one question remained on her mind.
Who are ye?