Page 22 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“I’m sorry, My Laird. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she said apologetically. “I only wanted to let you know I was here. I am surprised to see you, though. Did you not have a meeting?”
He quickly got to his feet and brushed his hair out of his eyes, then turned to look at her. Magnolia’s hair was loose, blonde waves careening over her shoulders, and she wore a simple dress with a cloth robe.
She’s in her nightclothes. She mustnae have thought anyone would be here.
The thought embarrassed him somewhat, but he pretended not to notice. He nodded his head. “Aye, but lucky for me I got out quicker than anticipated,” he answered, averting his eyes from her clothing.
She noticed anyway, and her cheeks went a rosy pink color. “I… forgive me for my attire. I did not expect it…what I mean to say is, it is so late, and…”
“Dinnae worry,” he said gruffly. “Ye’re entitled to yer nightwear at night. Did me Elaine get to bed a’right?”
“Oh, yes,” Magnolia replied. The awkwardness dropped from her face, replaced by a warm, gentle smile that tugged at Nathair’s heart.
That a woman who was a stranger only ten days ago should care so much for his daughter…it boggled the mind, and not entirely in a bad way. His lips twitched in a responding smile, which seemed to gratify her greatly.
She wandered off to the stacks, and he returned to his letters. No matter how hard he tried, however, his eyes kept tracing over the words, memories of Magnolia’s voice interrupting him unbidden.
On the fifteenth day of the sixth month—
“My name is Magnolia Leighmoore. I’m a nanny by trade.”
On the fifteenth—
“Yes, I’m quite all right.”
On the—
“Do what you like, My Laird.”
He scowled, shoving the letter aside. He’d now read the same sentence over and over, trying to move on with the document. But all that he could see was those damned blue eyes and how they’d crinkled with pleasure at his smile, the care in them whenever they looked at Elaine, and how they’d flamed when they argued a week before.
It had been all he could think about for days.
Damn it to hell, Nathair. What are ye doin’?
“Do…you mind if I sit here?” Magnolia’s voice came from behind him. She was pointing to the chair next to him, a book in her hand. “I thought it would be more prudent to share the candlelight than to light another.”
Nathair blinked and looked up at her, temporarily forgetting how to operate his mouth.
She seemed to take this as a refusal. Even in the low light of the flickering flame, Nathair could see her blush. “I’m sorry, My Laird, forgive me for being so forward. I—”
“Sit yerself down,” he interrupted. His voice was low and rough, as though he’d only just learned how to talk. “Nae point in wastin’ candles, ye’re absolutely right. There’s plenty o’ room for both o’ us.”
Get yerself together, Nathair! Ye sound like a confused old man.
Magnolia nodded and slid into the seat. Without a word, she opened her book on the table in front of her and began to read. Nathair tried to follow in her example, turning back to his letter.
Where was I? On the fifteenth day of the six month of battle, Laird MacCoyle said—
Lord above, she smells of fresh apples and honey.
He coughed awkwardly, shifting in his chair, angling himself so that he was tilted away from her. “Did ye find something to read?” he asked. Then he cursed himself–of course she had. What else was she doing right at this moment?
He was surprised to see, when he chanced a glance at her, that she had taken a similar position to his on her chair. She was mirroring him, slightly turned away from his body, as if angling for distance.
What didthatmean?
“I did,” she said politely. “I found a history of the castle’s forest. Elaine has been telling me all sorts of stories, so I thought I should find some in return.”
