Page 58 of A Highlander Bound by Oath
She felt left out of the joke, and even though her glance was automatic, it was almost as if Blair had expected it. He was watching her already, and when caught in his gaze, she could not look away. He appeared stiffer than usual, which was truly saying something, and with his hands folded tightly in front of him, he stood tall with his chin lifted. Even from a distance, she could tell that his jaw was tight.
What a specimen of a man, so strong and powerful.
Realizing how it must look for her to stare at Blair so, she tore her eyes away, wishing that she could be anywhere else. She wondered why she was not being rude to her guest or railing against her father’s dictates. It was so unlike her. But the moment with Blair in her room had shaken her, and she was not yet able to be herself. She’d stepped close to him, even touched him, and she’d wanted to do more.
His hands had hung limply at his sides, although he did not appear unaffected by her closeness. In that moment, she’d wanted nothing more than for his hands to be on her, to pull her close and tell her that he could think of nothing else but her.
Wait, what? Get yerself together, Ada.
“Lady Ada,” Irving said again, causing her to jolt out of her thoughts, and her hand hit against her wine glass, sending it to the floor with a crash.
Och, for the love of God.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blair was across the room in a moment as soon as he heard the crash and saw Ada hurry to pick up the pieces herself.
“Let me, Ada,” he said, bending down next to her and gently touching her hand so she stopped picking up the pieces. “I dinnae want ye tae get hurt.”
He could hear the mumble of her father sending for a servant, but he would do this himself in order to keep her safe. He would doanythingto keep her safe. He did clearly hear, however, the sharp and angry tone of Irving MacIntosh, who was standing and leaning over the edge of the table.
“And who is this person who should address ye so informally,LadyAda?” he asked.
Keeping a tight lid on his fury, Blair slowly turned to look at him while Ada rushed to introduce him.
“This is Blair MacDougall,” she said, her hand moving near to his shoulder, but she did not touch him. “He is me personal guard at me father’s orders.”
“I see,” Irving continued in the same sharp and now suspicious tone.
Blair stared back at him, hard and unyielding, but the man did not shy away. “MacDougall, ye say?” he asked, and Blair nodded. “Very well. But be quick about it, and make sure that Lady Ada’s wine is soon filled again.”
Blair wanted to strike him. No, he wanted to murder the silly man for his arrogance and demanding behavior, yet the only thing he did was look at Ada. A color had risen in her cheeks as she looked across at her betrothed, and Blair could tell that she was angry.
Good. At least she does nae like the bastard.
If he could tell that she liked him, then that would have been far harder to bear, and he would have had to leave MacPherson Castle sooner than he thought. Ada gave him another puzzled look, and when the servants arrived to assist him, she stood and returned stiffly to her seat. She sat in silence for a little longer, and the men didn't seem to notice. Blair, his hands slightly stained from the wineglass, returned to his position against the wall, a ball of rage growing inside him, bigger and bigger. But he'd spent years suppressing his anger, knowing what it could do; it was best that he kept it safely locked away. It still pressed against him, longing to be free.
Irving MacIntosh looked like a prized bloody idiot. He sat chatting with Graeme, but neither man seemed to notice the growing discomfort of the woman who also shared their table, a woman whose voice Blair secretly looked forward to hearing when he woke up and every time he returned to his guarding shift. Her ideas intrigued, excited, enraged, and entertained him all at the same time. He couldn't imagine wanting Ada to be anything other than who she was, and silence was the last thing he wanted from her.
“Will ye excuse me, gentlemen?” she said suddenly, slowly standing up. “I should like a bit of fresh air after that meal. I will return presently.”
“Of course, Ada, that would be agreeable,” Laird MacPherson said, nodding his head to her.
Ada left and, from a distance, Blair followed behind. He did not agree with the laird’s desire that she should constantly be watched, and so when she entered the castle gardens at the back of the castle, he hung behind a little, letting her get ahead of him and watching her form in the torchlit dimness. It was a cold evening, and the sun had set early, for winter still hung heavy in the air. But he knew he’d rather tear into his own skin than give her an order just then. She didn’t seem to notice the cold either, simply walking down the garden path, her green woolen dress seeming to be enough for her.
As he passed a rose bush, he was disappointed that it was yet too early for the roses to bloom. He wanted to pick one and leave it in Ada’s room secretly, so that she’d know someone out theremade her smile at the end of this dreadful night—dreadful for him, at least.
What a foolish thought. Ye will be gone soon once she is married. Ye will nae have tae think of the lass again.
It was wiser and better that way. Even if Irving was an arsehole, he didn't have Blair's dark past—a past that kept him awake at night and made him remember things he hoped to forget. Then there was Finley, the man who, no doubt, was lurking in every shadow, ready to kill himfor what he'd done to his men as soon as he could find him. Blair knew he could never do that to a woman he wished to call his wife. And he would definitely never do that to Ada.
When he heard the crack of a twig, he looked up to see Ada paused, half-hidden by a large tree. He, too, paused, watching her from the shadows but keeping his distance. He was aware that she was aware of his presence, and he hoped that it brought her comfort rather than irritation. He leaned against a nearby tree, shivering slightly as an icy breeze passed by, and hoping she would want to go in soon, or he might freeze his bollocks off.
What good are they anyway? It’s nae as if I’ve used them in a while.
It was freezing, but Ada didn’t care. She was cooling down from the rage that had boiled inside her after Irving’s treatment of Blair. Blair, the man who had saved her life time and time again,who was everything that was good and noble, a man who had rushed to her side just to help her pick up the pieces of a damned glass she’d broken, was being ridiculed by a guest to her castle?
I dinnae think so. Handsome or nae, the man is obviously an arse.
