Page 88 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
For was not a moonlit night, with fresh snowfall outside and stars burning in the heavens, while they kept warm by the fire, a perfect time to find warmth together?
He stood and prowled over to her, looking fine in his loose shirt and trews, barefoot and wild-haired.
Emma pretended to toss her head and go back to her list, but she no longer paid any mind to her tasks—she was waiting for his lips to find her neck.
Instead, his hands found her shoulders and squeezed. “Love, ye cannae fool me.”
At that Emma, tipped her head back and eyed her husband-to-be. His gaze was kind but shrewd.
“Ye are growin’ more anxious about meetin’ yer sister.”
Emma’s shoulders rose, and Grant squeezed gently again, but she immediately looked away and laughed. “No, no, you were quite right to call me silly.”
“I didnae call ye silly,” he said in a low voice. “Ye called yerself that when ye finally fessed up to it. Ye fear meetin’ Agnes and nae recognizin’ her. Ye fear her bein’ angry with ye and only feignin’ goodwill in her letters.”
Emma cursed herself inwardly for telling Grant about that foolish fear. More than once, he’d brought it up, trying to talk about it. But every time, it made her stomach twist with nerves and her heart ache. She looked at the corner of her desk, where there was a thick stack of letters tied with a purple ribbon, with her sister’s neat handwriting on the front.
I would miss her letters if she stopped writing,was what she’d blurted out to Grant after returning to Banrose.And I fear that when we meet, we will not know each other as sisters, but as strangers.
“Emma,” Grant murmured, his lips pressed against her temple. “Ye didnae do wrong by her. If anyone did, it was yer faither—and the Queen. And I told ye that McWirthe’s gossip network can be trusted—MacLarsen adores his wife.” A laugh rumbled out of him. “And by all accounts, the petite and fierce Lady MacLarsen isnae unlike ye.”
Emma reached up and stroked his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Now, then,” Grant said and kissed her neck, making her squeal with laughter. “Come to bed, or?—”
He stilled suddenly, his hands tensing up on her shoulders, and then he was striding across the room. Emma half-turned to watch, shaking her head slightly.
Truly, he has the ears of a fox,she noted as he approached their door right as someone knocked on it.
She turned back to her list, wondering if she should try and get something done tonight if Grant had to go somewhere, when she heard him make a surprised sound. Her entire body stiffened, and her quill fell from her nerveless fingers.
Before Grant even spoke, she knew he would say her name. She knew that someone had come forLadyRonson, not the Laird.
“Emma.”
She slowly turned around as Grant came back to her.
Aileas was standing in the hall and wringing his hands.
Grant had a strange, tense look about him, and her stomach dropped further. “We have visitors.”
Emma and Grant approached the Southern Hall together, the very same room that she’d been brought to on her first night at Banrose Castle.
Grant cast her a look as they approached the doors, and she hesitated, falling back. For a moment, her mind raced, and she wondered if she could do this.
“Ye once spent three days in a dungeon, love,” Grant whispered. “Ye can do this.”
Emma scoffed. “Well, when one puts it that way.”
“I can receive them. Ye can go to sleep,” he offered.
“I will not,” Emma insisted.
After taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and threw open the doors.
Two people stood by a fireplace, a Highlander and a half-hidden woman behind him, a hood over her head. Emma’s eyes flickered to the Highlander first, for he dominated the room, large and strong, dressed in a fine kilt of dark grays and gold.
He had dark hair tied back from his face, storm-hued eyes, and a fine, handsome face, but it was terribly scarred on one side. Still, Emma did not falter, for she knew which laird had a scarred face. However, she was surprised, for Grant had told her that Laird MacLarsen wore a mask, which made him look rather terrifying.
