Page 41 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
He did not see her throughout the day, not when he went to see Margaret and found her writing on a piece of parchment, not when he went to the dining hall for lunch, and not when he asked Flora to invite more people to the cèilidh.
When she finally appeared at dinner, she was no longer wearing the green dress she had worn during breakfast, but a white gown that flowed gracefully around her and shone in the yellow candlelight. Even in such simple attire, she still looked quite breathtaking.
Unlike breakfast, dinner was quite uneventful. It was only the three of them—he, Margaret, and Ava. Flora had retired quite early to her room. The sound of spoons clinking against fine china filled the air as they all ate and emptied their plates.
Brodrick still couldn’t get the kiss out of his mind. He couldn’t get the abrupt ending of it out of his mind either, and as they ate, he wondered if it had anything to do with the man she was supposed to marry.
As the maids came to clear the table, Margaret stretched out her hands and yawned.
Ava watched her carefully, a smile playing on her face. “You’re quite tired, are you not?”
Margaret nodded.
“Well then, let’s get you to your room before you pass out on the table, shall we?” Ava urged, laughing as she stood up.
She reached for Margaret’s hand and led her away from the table. As they headed to the door, Brodrick stood up as well, refusing to ponder the matter for longer.
“I shall come with ye,” he called.
Ava turned to look at him, a confused expression on her face. “Is that… necessary, My Laird?”
“It isnae. But I still want to come anyway. That is nae a problem, is it?”
Ava shook her head. “Not at all.”
Brodrick took one last swig of his ale and stepped away from the table. He walked slowly behind them as they made their way out of the dining hall. The loud clicking of their shoes on the floor echoed off the walls, and for some reason, it was the only thing Brodrick could focus on.
He saw the fear on Margaret’s face as they walked.
“Ye’re all right, lassie,” he whispered. “’Tis just the wind.”
His words seemed to have a calming effect on Margaret, as her features smoothed out, even if just a little bit.
They walked a little further until they got to Margaret’s room.
Ava stepped inside first, pulling the door wide open. Margaret walked in after her, but Brodrick just stood by the door. He watched Ava take Margaret by the hand and lead her to her bed, a glimmer of motherly affection in her eyes. She couldn’t take care of Margaret any better than she was currently doing if the girl came from her own womb.
Brodrick watched closely as Ava helped Margaret onto the bed and gently brushed her hair from her face.
“Do you need me to read you a story before bed?” she asked, her voice gentle, almost out of a fairytale.
Margaret shook her head slowly.
Ava nodded and placed a sweet kiss on the child’s forehead.
Brodrick remained by the door, leaning against the jamb as he watched Ava continue to brush the little girl’s hair and hum a merry tune. He watched Margaret slowly slip into a warm slumber before he ventured into the room, his eyes wide with amazement.
“Lass, I must say, ye have quite the?—”
Ava’s head snapped up. “Shh.”
Brodrick froze.
Ava slowly brought her finger to her lips, motioning for him to keep quiet. Brodrick was frozen for a minute as she took one last look at Margaret. Then, she looked up at him and motioned for him to walk out.
Brodrick frowned and slowly mouthed, “What?”
“Step outside,” Ava said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Quietly.”
