Page 2 of Highlander's Wild Lass
She turned at the sound of Celestia’s footsteps on the flagstones. “Almost done.”
Celestia was about to thank her when someone pounded on the front door. Both sisters looked at each other, Auralia’s eyes wide, Celestia’s heart frozen. They both hoped it wouldn’t be debt collectors or one of their father’s clients. She turned toward the door, stopping in front of the mirror to tuck a few stray strands of blonde hair back into her low bun. There were bits of dirt on her cheeks from trying to free the goat earlier.
The pounding came again, louder this time, more insistent.
Must be old Gavin comin’ to convince me to let him beat the twins for whatever they did to him today.
“I’m comin’!” she shouted.
She braced herself for the berating she was sure Gavin was about to deliver and pulled open the heavy oak front door. Instead of Gavin’s old, sun-damaged face, she was met with the tall figure of the young chief of Clan Moore.
Celestia eyed him, stunned as she took him in. Chief Anthony Moore wore well-polished riding books, his plaid perfectly tucked and pinned, his dark, almost black curly hair fixed with a bonnet. She was irritatingly awestruck by how handsome he looked in the late-morning light.
She forced herself to blink, scolding herself for her thoughts. How was it that he made butterflies appear in her stomach after he’d been nothing but a snobbish prat to her their entire lives?
She looked once more at him, taking in the dark eyelashes that framed his dark green eyes.
“Good day, Mistress,” he said. He attempted a smile.
“Good day to you, m’laird,” she replied, such formalities felt strange after a lifetime of knowing one another. “What do I owe the pleasure of ye on our humble doorstep?”
“I’ve told ye time and again, ye can call me Anthony,” he said, sounding annoyed, resting his hands on his leather belt that secured his rough leather riding trews. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Celestia resisted the urge to reach out and place her hands on his muscular forearms, tanned from the recent uncommon streak of sunny spring days the Highlands had seen.
“Oh, aye, Anthony, fine, fine,” she said, nodding her head, pulling her eyes away from him.
“Have you been well?” Anthony asked, trying for a smile before it fell into a pinched, tension-filled expression.
“Aye, I’ve been well enough,” Celestia told him. “Thank ye for inquirin’.”
“Is yer faither in? I wish to speak with him,” he asked, taking a small step forward.
“We are about to sit down for lunch. So, if ye don’t mind comin’ back another time,” she said, taking hold of the door handle. She gave a part bow of her head and closed the door on him.
How can ye be starin’ at him like that, ye daft fool.
She entered the kitchen once again, trying to shake the image of his hesitant but charming smile from her mind; Auralia was plating the porridge and eggs. Chester and Hugo were coming in the back door, dirtier than they were before, hair a mess. They spotted their sister, looking very pleased with themselves.
“Never fear, Cellie! The McLean twins have saved the day,” Chester told her happily.
“Or, rather, the goat.” Hugo nodded, flicking mud off his dirt-smeared linen shirt. “Clyde’s as good as new.”
Celestia stopped them in their tracks. “Fetch Da from his room. He’s takin’ lunch outside today.”
“He is?” all three of her younger siblings said, gawking at her.
“Aye, he—”
The pounding on the door came again. This time louder and more urgent than before. Celestia noted that the knock sounded more agitated too. She smiled to herself; she was sure that no one, especially a woman, had shut the door in the chief’s face before.
“Who was it?” Auralia asked.
“Who is it?” Chester asked, sounding a bit frightened.
“What if ol’ Gavin figured out it was us?” Hugo said, eyes wide.
“We would ken if it was ol’ Gavin by now. That man screams louder than a Ban Sith,” Auralia said flatly.
“It’s only Anthony Moore, just ignore him. He’ll go away eventually,” Celestia told them.
