Page 33 of A Virgin for the Icy Laird
“I understand,” she murmured. “We should speak in the library if ye…” As she turned away, he grabbed her arm.
Startled, she looked back to find him holding up the stockings she had made for him.
“What is this?”
Perhaps he wanted to know her true intentions when she had knitted them? Was he trying to affirm her feelings?
In hindsight, she had knitted them on a whim, with no one in mind, and when she’d decided to gift them to him, she had no romantic intentions. She had only started developing feelings after she finished knitting them.
“I told ye they were a gift in return for the comb.” She touched the comb as color warmed her cheeks. She turned away, feeling shy.
“Nay.” He turned her back. “The pattern on them… Ye have knitted a very specific pattern. How do ye ken it?”
He did not look at her like they had shared an intimate moment. He did not look like he even remembered it. Why else would he be questioning her about a pattern after kissing her?
Emily deflated. He probably thought it was subpar. She had limited experience; how could she have thought it good enoughto leave a mark? But then, did men like him even dwell on flings and fleeting kisses?
“What is it, Emily?”
She didn’t like the way his hand tightened. She did not like his tone or the look in his eyes. It took her back to the orphanage. To the caregivers. To their scolding. To their lessons. To how they yanked her about when she was less than perfect.
“This pattern is a replica of a pendant I own that is very dear to me,” she said, eager to be free. She had never fought against the master, so she kept her composure. He had never liked it when she cried. “A necklace I have carried with me since childhood.”
Adair’s grip loosened, but she could feel his hands shaking. His eyes were wide with curiosity. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a voice cut him off.
“Emily.”
They looked behind her to see Elize approach.
Emily shrugged his hands off and went to her sister. “I’ve been looking everywhere for ye.”
She turned Elize away, wanting to give him privacy. She was concerned by the haunted look in his eyes, and she feared Elize would say something to offend him.
When she glanced back, he was still watching them.
What was he thinking? Why did he look so haunted? Why was he shaking?
But then, he turned away.
“Emily!”
She turned to her sister and realized that she had missed whatever she had been saying.
“What happened?” Elize asked, her voice filled with concern.
Emily pressed her lips into a thin line and held her hands flat against her thighs to hide the tremors in them. “Nothing.”
“Are ye sure?”
She cast a forlorn look at where Adair had stood only moments ago. He had not looked like a powerful laird, but a grieving man.
“Aye.”
“Then come with me.” Elize jerked her forward. “Ye’re the only one who can style me hair.”
“Ye need to grow up.”
Since the engagement, Elize had refused the help of every maid who had tried to tame her mane. Emily suspected that they’d grown tired of her whining first.
