Page 26 of A Virgin for the Icy Laird
“Generous? The only generosity we’ve enjoyed is at the whim of Mrs. Donnelly, who employed us without his permission. He took advantage of yer situation. In his eyes, ye’re nothing but a desperate lass with no family, to be discarded when he sees fit.”
“That isnae true.”
“Think about it. Why did he nae marry Lady Isla himself? He is the Laird. Is it nae his duty to unite both clans?” Elize argued bluntly. When she saw Emily’s wounded expression, her voice softened. “I wouldnae say this to ye if I didnae worry. I daenae feel comfortable with ye sellin’ yerself for a warm bed and hot meals. I daenae trust him.”
“Well, I do!” Emily exclaimed, surprising them both.
Elize shook her head, a pitying look in her eyes. “I daenae ken if ye have told me the entire truth of yer arraganement with the Laird, Emily,” she said. “But I hope that at least wisdom will guide ye to protect yer heart.”
“Me heart isnae involved, Elize,” Emily scoffed, feeling offended.
“Ye say that now, but I ken ye well, Emi.” Elize shot her a pointed look. “Ye have never been so quick to trust strangers, yet ye defend this man so easily.”
Emily swallowed, not knowing what to say.
“I would advise ye to take heed of me words, or ye may find yerself biting off more than ye can chew.”
7
What are ye doing, Adair?
He had letters to write, accounts to review, and registrars to sign. But when Elize’s exuberant voice and Emily’s hushed tone drifted into the study, he rose from his desk.
He crossed the room and reached the door before he thought to stop himself. He wanted to see Emily. He had this knot in his chest that only her eyes could loosen.
He did not know how or when it had happened, but he realized for a while now that he missed her when she was not near him.
At first, he had thought himself merely curious. She was an astonishing thing. One minute, she was reserved and timid, counting her words as if she were trained never to waste the lexicon; the next, she was snarky and verbose, grandly expressing herself through sly remarks or comments she did not recognize the appeal of.
He could not reconcile the woman who had cowered in his arms in the village with the woman who had stared at him from beneath her lashes in the library.
He looked down at his arms. He had come close to both women. Touched one and smelled the other. Her skin was a furnace, and on its grate was an inviting strawberry tart.
He would have burst through the door were it not for Mrs. Donnelly’s familiar footfalls. She was the reason he held back. With her by their side, he had no plausible reason to accompany them.
What would be his excuse? A knot in his chest that only Emily could unwind? She was an amusing thing, and he needed entertainment? Could he countenance appearing as a buffoon?
Aye!
He pulled open the door when he realized there was nothing buffoonish about a man seeking the company of his betrothed, fake or not.
He lifted his head, only to see Fergus standing before him, his hand raised, ready to knock.
“Me Laird, do ye need anything?” Fergus asked.
Flanking him was the solicitor Adair had forgotten he had summoned. He was ready to dismiss him and follow the trail ofstrawberries. But then Fergus stepped to the side, as if trying to shield the man.
“Mr. Drummond, me Laird.”
A sudden distaste soured Adair’s mouth. His freedom had come to a definite halt.
“Come in.” He had already turned around and stepped back into the study.
“I retrieved the documents ye requested from Laird Scott, me Laird,” Mr. Drummond began.
Adair poured himself a glass of brandy, feeling an incoming headache.
Dealing with documents was always a thing of migraines and fine print. Laird Scott, as reasonable as he seemed, was unable to send documents that were easy to decipher. He was unnecessarily unforthcoming and secretive.
