Page 86 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Hello.” Carrie’s softly spoken greeting pulled them from their discussion. The child stood in the doorway, looking rather puzzled at the gathering of men whose faces she’d never seen. “Who are you?”
Oh, dear.In that moment, Belle rather regretted her decision to delay Carrie’s morning routine. The child had taken it upon herself to select her own clothing for the day. And she’d evidently decided to be as fancy as she could be. Decked out in a lace-trimmed velveteen dress, she’d topped it with what looked like fairy wings and a gleaming crystal tiara.
Jon’s brow furrowed. “What in blazes—” He broke off the exclamation as Belle went to take the girl’s hand and ushered her to the settee, wings and all.
“Well, ye don’t see that every day, do ye?” MacLain said with a hearty chuckle.
“I wanted to dress up,” Carrie said with a child’s honesty, waving the crystal-tipped wand in her hand as if she were casting a magic spell.
“And you did,” Belle said gently. “Perhaps the wings are not the best choice for breakfast.”
Jon scratched his chin, as if deep in thought. “Personally, I think the wings are a smashing choice.”
If he had declared his own intention to add a magic wand to his wardrobe, Belle might have been less shocked. For her part, Carrie grinned with delight. “You like them?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “You found these in my sister’s old steamer chest, didn’t you?”
“In the wardrobe,” Carrie nibbled her lip.
A look of pleasant reminiscence fell over his features. “My mother used to host costume parties every autumn. As I recall, Macie wore these wings at one of the balls, quite some time ago.”
Again, Carrie chewed her lower lip. “Will she be cross with me?”
“Not at all,” Jon said. “I think she’d be very happy. It’s been far too long since we’ve had anyone wearing wings in this house.”
“Indeed,” Logan MacLain said, chuckling again. “Isn’t that the wand yer sister used to teach some uncouth bloke a lesson at Lady What’s-her-name’s masquerade?”
“I do believe it is,” he said. “That was some time ago.”
“Obviously before she’d spoken her vows with Finn,” MacLain said. “He would’ve used his...” He glanced toward Carrie. “He would’ve taught the dolt a more memorable lesson.”
“One he would not have forgotten,” Jon agreed.
“Gentlemen,” Belle spoke up. “Carrie does not need an education on lessons for the uncouth.”
Still waving her wand, Carrie scurried over to the chair where Mr. Northcutt was seated. “Who are you?”
The bodyguard stared down at the girl as if his ears had deceived him. But when he spoke, his tone was calm and smooth. “My name is Mr. Northcutt.”
“My name is Carolyn Marie Mason,” she said, sweeping the wand over him as if she were casting a spell. “My mama called me Carrie.”
“Then I shall as well,” the man said, sounding every bit the gentleman. He turned to Jon. “I was not aware there was a young child in residence.”
Belle spotted the housekeeper approaching just beyond the bowed door. Mrs. Gilroy rapped lightly against the wood. “Mr. Mason, if ye do not mind me interrupting, I’ll ask Carrie to assist me with the cat.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gilroy,” Jon said with a nod.
“Come with me, wee one.” She motioned to the child. “Cleo is being cranky this morning. I could use yer help.”
“She does like me.” The girl grinned and hurried after Mrs. Gilroy, her legs swishing against the velvet of her dress.
When she was out of earshot, Jon turned to Mr. Northcutt. The expression in his eyes was flinty. “I am Carrie’s guardian.” His mouth hardened. “I presume Mrs. Johnstone briefed you as to the residents of my household.”
“She did.” Mr. Northcutt rubbed a hand against his beard. “I did not realize the girl was so young.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
The bodyguard shook his head. “I will need to refine my tactics. The child’s presence is not truly significant. I will complete the job I’ve been sent to do.”
