Page 29 of Highland Jewel
“You poke him.”
“You.”
The children together finally edged closer and touched him on the arm. With a roar Niall sprang to life, eliciting screams and giggles from his nieces as he dragged them down on top of him. Maisie realized she was laughing as loudly as the girls.
The battle was far from over, however. They hugged him and held him down, sitting on his chest. Pure joy reflected in their faces, Niall’s included. Tender emotions squeezed Maisie’s throat. He was their uncle, their hero, their playmate, their friend. An unexpected pang of self-pity stabbed at her heart. She couldn’t remember even one moment like this in her own life.
She shook off the foolish thought. The three battlers noticed them as she and Fiona entered the room, and shouts of “Mama!” rang in the air as the girls rushed over to greet their mother. Maisie exchanged greetings with Fiona’s mother-in-law. When she turned around, Niall was standing, and his eyes were fixed on her.
His hair, wildly messed as it was, gave him the look of a very large, very handsome hedgehog. He’d cast aside his coat. His cravat was askew, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, displaying powerful arms. Regardless of the disarray in his appearance, Maisie was certain she’d never seen a more striking man in her entire life.
“Look, old Napoleonisalive,” Catriona cried out.
Brianna picked up the stick she’d dropped. “We have to get him.”
The girls rushed back to attack their victim.
“Stop, my heroic lassies. No more fighting. No morekilling your uncle. It’s your bedtime.” Fiona took hold of the girls and frowned at Niall. “What happened to playing gentle, calming games? Or telling stories? Why must it always be war games?”
“These are hardly games, dear sister.” He pulled on his coat. “I’m teaching them survival strategies.”
“Survival, Mama,” the five-year-old Catriona protested as she stretched to retrieve her weapon.
“They’ve already eaten,” Mrs. Johnston offered. “How about if I take them up to bed and you three can have your supper.”
“I’ll come with you.” Fiona steered the older girl to her mother-in-law and led the younger one toward the door. She stopped and turned to Maisie. “I’ll be down shortly. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
When they were left alone, Maisie stared at the door, at the walls, at the two candles and the ornate Wedgwood urn on the fireplace mantel. A knot twisted in her stomach as Niall moved around the room behind her.
“I promise not to wrestle you to the ground if you turn around.”
His hushed words were like a caress, and she felt herself blush from head to toe before turning to face him. He’d obviously run his fingers through this hair to smooth it a little, and he was straightening his cravat.
“I thought Napoleon was shorter,” she said.
“I’m in disguise.”
“Very clever.”
They moved around the room, straightening up the battlefield. An overturned chair was righted. Toys that had been scattered were picked up. Only one of the swords remained, and the two of them reached for it at the same time. Their heads bumped. Their fingers touched. In her rush to stand, Maisie staggered. She wasn’t sure how ithappened, but she was suddenly in Niall’s arms. Her hands lay flat against his chest, and his arms were wrapped around her. Maisie looked into his eyes, scorched by the heat in their blue depths.
“I didn’t mean to. I was trying to—”
He kissed her. Not a true kiss. Not as she’d imagined it. A brush of their lips.
Time stood still, nonetheless. Her heart raced. Her lips tingled. Her body blazed, hot with the rush of excitement and anticipation.
At the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, he immediately released her and stepped back.
She smoothed her dress, but her heart continued to thump wildly in her chest. She was filled with the sensation one gets stepping out into a winter morn and breathing in that first hint of spring. Or inhaling the scent of the first rose. Or feeling the first drops of a summer rainstorm on your face.
He walked around the room, pretending to put away whatever was out of place. From the sidelong looks he sent her, from his flushed face, she knew he was also affected by their moment.
Fiona appeared in the doorway. “Come with me, you two. Supper is ready. Their grandmother is putting my little fighters to bed.”
Maisie followed her friend, and Niall was right at her side. He gestured for her to go ahead of him, and as she moved through the door, she was aware of her dress brushing lightly against his leg. The passage to the dining room offered its own temptations. Without looking at each other or talking, she could feel his mood. They walked behind Fiona, but the backs of their hands bumped and brushed and caressed.
