Page 6 of A Virgin for the Icy Laird
Adair sighed again.
“A month isnae long, me Laird.”
“I am aware, Fergus.”
“Do ye have a plan?” Fergus asked.
Adair damn well didn’t, but he would be damned to hell before he admitted as much to anyone.
“This is yer workstation, lass,” Mrs. Donnelly announced, ushering Emily into what looked like a morning room.
It was large and well-lit, and there were already a few women in there at work. They eyed her curiously, but their gazes didn’t linger, soon returning to their work. The atmosphere was light and lively as they chatted while they worked.
Emily felt her anxiety ebb the longer she stayed in the room, more so when she eyed the fabrics and threads offered to her. They were of such fine quality that her hands itched with the desire to begin working. She could create so many lovely patterns with this loot before her. She took her seat and eagerly rifled through them, her body thrumming with excitement to begin working again.
She had thought it would take her longer to find employment, but this opportunity that had all but fallen into her lap excited and scared her at once. She would have to do her very best to prove her worth here.
“Who will the garments be for, mistress?” she asked, looking up at the housekeeper.
“Oh, I’ll have none of that,” Mrs. Donnelly protested. “Ye can call me Mrs. Donnelly like everyone else, and ye’ll be making garments for the Laird.”
Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “Surely ye daenae mean to entrust me with such responsibility so early, Mrs. Donnelly?” she protested.
“I’ll have none of that either, lass,” Mrs. Donnelly chided. “Ye claim to be a knitter, and I intend to see if ye have any skill.”
“But the fabric is so expensive,” Emily cried. “What if I ruin it?”
Mrs. Donnelly gave her a smile that suggested there would be hell to pay if she did.
“Then we’ll find another way for ye to earn yer keep and replace the fabric,” she answered. “Now come, we need to take the Laird’s measurements. He should be finished with his meeting now.”
The housekeeper led her through the halls, which were almost overwhelming and allowed her to appreciate the enormity of the castle. She stopped outside a set of double doors and knocked.
“Enter,” a gruff voice called out.
Both stepped inside.
Emily kept her head lowered so as not to offend, although she spotted two men standing in the room.
“What will ye be needing, Mrs. Donnelly?” one of them asked in an authoritative tone that made her shake slightly.
“I have brought a new knitter,” Mrs. Donnelly answered, “and I need her to take yer measurements for new garments.”
“I daenae have the time, Mrs. Donnelly,” the same voice answered. “Come back later.”
“It must be done quickly, me Laird,” Mrs. Donnelly insisted. It baffled Emily that the woman was so bold as to talk back. “The wedding isnae far.”
The same man sighed. “Alright.”
“Come, lass,” Mrs. Donnelly called.
Emily lifted her head, trying not to stiffen when she saw Fergus, whom she recognized from the night before, and another man who stole the breath from her lungs.
He was dashingly handsome, with eyes a lovely hazel that shone with a warmth as familiar as her own face in a mirror. His tall frame and broad shoulders exuded power and authority.
Emily found herself feeling anxious as he regarded her.
His gaze was warm and assessing, his full brows dipping slightly as he studied her face. She lowered her eyes and ran a hand over the skirt of her dress to smooth out invisible wrinkles. She wanted to make a good impression on this Laird so that at least she didn’t lose her new job.
