Chapter 3
Green eyes, chestnut hair and the feel of soft small hands caressing his bicep woke Adair up for the hundredth time since he had tried sleeping the previous night, but this time when he opened his eyes, he found Alec’s head sprawled across his lap.
“Get up, boy,” he croaked, shrugging the furs off him. “’Tis time to start the day.”
Already, he could see the pale light of dawn through his window and knew he could delay no longer. He had a lot to do, especially if he were to find a woman to play his betrothed in one month.
His father’s friends had daughters. It would be easy to write to them and propose a match. But if he were to end things suddenly, they would no doubt threaten war for ruining their daughters’ chances of securing another match.
Where could he find a woman who could help him without risking her family’s wrath?
It should be a woman whose feelings wouldn’t complicate the mess and whom he could at least stomach looking at and pretending to court for the month he needed to convince his councilmen.
A vision of green eyes flashed through his mind as he moved to the washbasin to do his morning ablutions, but he dismissed the thought. Just because Alec had accepted her so easily didn’t mean he also could.
Yet…
“A servant—nay, a knitter?” he asked himself with a frown as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. “But why should I feel so attracted to her?”
Her large green eyes set in a beautiful face hovered in his mind’s eye as well as the memory of the lovely flush that had painted the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders when he had stepped close to her.
Her hands were small and delicate, but they looked strong and capable, especially when she had petted Alec. Adair had found it difficult to keep himself from touching her when her hands had roamed over his body as she measured him.
The memory of her fingers on him had him stiffening in his drawers.
If she were to play his betrothed, he could put off looking for a wife and placate his meddling councilmen at the same time.
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he was quick to force it down. If Callum could give up his freedom and marry for the sake of the clan, surely he could ignore his displeasure for just one month.
It still amazed him how his little brother had matured so quickly that he was willing to marry a woman he had never met without argument.
“Fergus,” Adair called.
“Aye, me Laird,” Fergus answered, stepping inside.
“Send a maid to fetch Mrs. Donnelly,” Adair ordered.
“Right away, me Laird.” Fergus sketched a bow, before leaving.
Adair paced before the door, trying to think up a reason why this plan would never work, but all hands kept pointing to the fact that this was a better plan than anything he could have come up with.
“Ye asked for me, me Laird?” Mrs. Donnelly asked, stepping into his study.
He had told her several times to drop the formalities when it was just the two of them, but she insisted on them.
She had been more than the head housekeeper in the years following his mother’s death and had been a source of comfort when his father had passed as well, even if he hadn’t been the most agreeable of men.
It had indeed been a dark time for him, trying to process the grief of his father’s sudden passing and the weight of managing the clan himself when there was still a lot to learn.
It was why he had retained the councilmen his father had appointed in his time, despite how they frustrated him. They had been instrumental in the survival of the clan and in training him for his new responsibilities.
“Aye, I did,” he answered. “I would like ye to arrange a meeting with the new knitter after the midday meal.”
“Alright, me Laird,” she answered, then turned to leave.
“Ye daenae want to ask why I want to meet with her?” he asked, surprised.
Mrs. Donnelly spared him a look over her shoulder. “I’ve been in this castle for over thirty years, me Laird. I ken when to ask questions and when I am better off nae kenning.”
With that, she stepped out of the room, leaving him wondering if he had perhaps made a terrible mistake.
“Ye must wake up now, Elize.” Emily shook her sister, sitting up in the cot they had been given in the maids’ common chambers.
Already, maids milled about the room in different states of dress, and the chaos made her wonder how she had been able to sleep so long. In truth, she had had no nightmares since she had come to stay in the castle, and the fact astounded her.
“Nay,” Elize groaned, turning onto her side. “It’s much too cold to do so.”
“Ye’ve slept enough, Elize,” Emily scolded. “’Tis time for us to start the day.”
“I have hardly slept enough,” Elize mumbled, sitting up. “I kept thinking this place was too good to be true and that we would be forced back to the orphanage.”
“I ken, but ye mustnae speak of it so loudly,” Emily warned, keeping her voice low. “Ye daenae want anybody to overhear us and send us back to that place.”
She didn’t want anyone to overhear them and report to Mrs. Donnelly. Considering no one had asked questions about their origins, it wouldn’t be surprising if the housekeeper had placed spies to watch them.
Emily was not too na?ve to think that they had found a home so easily, but that didn’t mean she was in a hurry to leave. If anyone here learned that they had escaped the orphanage and they got evicted from the castle, she didn’t know where they would find such comfortable accommodations again.
For the first time in her life, she looked forward to waking up and beginning her work.
“Ye’re much too cautious, Emi,” Elize whispered. “I hardly think anyone here is paying attention to us. They daenae even look at us.”
“’Tis exactly what we need,” Emily insisted.
“To focus on our work and mind our own business. We daenae need any extra attention on us. For the first time, we have a place to stay where we daenae fear being beaten or starved. Let us do everything we can to ensure we daenae return to the life we escaped from.”
Elize frowned, studying her intently. “How can ye be so sure after only a day here?” she asked.
Emily felt her face flush, but she quickly hid it by turning away and rising.
She couldn’t very well tell her sister that she was sure because she had been with the Laird in his chambers the day before or about the lovely dog.
She didn’t know how to explain what had happened in that room without sounding mad.
“Get up now and be quick about it,” she said sharply.
Without further argument, they began their day.
“Emily,” Mrs. Donnelly called some time after the midday meal, just before she could return to her workstation.
“Aye, Mrs. Donnelly?” Emily answered.
“The Laird has asked to see ye,” Mrs. Donnelly told her.
Surprise flitted through her.
“Did he say why?” Emily asked.
Had she perhaps done something that annoyed him yesterday?
Oh, I shouldnae have spoken as freely as I did yesterday.
To think she had always scolded Elize for behaving without regard for propriety, but she was the one who had forgone all notion of it by staring too long at the Laird’s face.
If he wanted to evict her for her improper behavior, she was ready to beg him to give her another chance.
“He didnae,” Mrs. Donnelly answered. Seeing the glum look on Emily’s face, she added, “Daenae fret, child. The Laird isnae going to hurt ye. Daenae worry.”
“I fear I may have offended him,” Emily admitted, worrying her lip with her teeth.
“He doesnae take offense so easily, child,” Mrs. Donnelly soothed. “Now come, let us nae delay any longer.”
Emily nodded and followed behind the housekeeper, her anxiety mounting as she did. They stopped outside the Laird’s study, and Mrs. Donnelly knocked on the door. Then, with a soft smile, she retreated.
“Come in,” the Laird called.
Fixing a repentant look on her face, Emily opened the door and stepped inside, keeping her head down.
“Ye asked to see me, me Laird,” she said softly.
“Aye, I did,” he rumbled. “Why do ye look so guilty?”
She lifted her head and found him standing behind his desk with a concerned glint in his eyes.
“Nothing, me Laird,” she answered. “I just thought… I thought I was in trouble.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, waiting for him to tell her what she had done wrong.
“Ye have done nothing to get in trouble,” he assured her. “Come sit here. I merely wish to discuss something with ye.”
Oh?
She took the seat he indicated and waited with bated breath for him to continue.
When he moved around the desk, her breath caught in her chest, especially when he sat on the edge, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and breathe in his masculine scent.
She had caught it yesterday, but even now, he smelled like the outdoors. Like the morning dew with a hint of something distinctly male. It was pleasant, but she refrained from breathing him in too deeply lest he think her insane.
“What I have to discuss with ye is a matter that requires the utmost discretion,” he started. “And should ye refuse, I would understand. What I would not appreciate, however, is if it leaves the confines of this room.”
That was rather suspicious, but she chose not to say anything even though alarm bells were already ringing in her head.
“I will keep this between us, me Laird,” she promised with a firm nod.
He watched her for a moment, then nodded.
“Me councilmen have taken it upon themselves to pressure me into marrying and have gone so far as to suggest they choose a wife for me. But that is one thing I cannae agree to, as I have no intention of marrying a woman I daenae ken,” he said.
She frowned, wondering why this had anything to do with her.
“I understand why ye may wonder what this has to do with ye, but I have considered it rather carefully,” he said, as if reading her mind, “and yer arrival seems almost like Providence.”
She nodded. “How may I help ye, me Laird?”