Page 21 of A Match Made in Heather

Pinning Arabel with a warning glance not to go anywhere, Garrick took the pipes from Lady Rowland’s arms just as she began to blow. Then he set them down—high up on top the curio cabinet and far out of her reach.

The old woman cackled with amusement.

“I didn’t realize that you played the pipes, Auntie,” Arabel commented as she led Matilda to a high-backed chair by the fireplace.

Matilda snorted. “I don’t, lass!”

Garrick fought the twitching of his lips when Arabel rolled her eyes. If his presence at Highburn didn’t drive her away before the month was over, her Aunt Matilda surely would.

“Join me by the fire, Townsend,” Matilda ordered. “Sit down, sit down!”

He glanced around, only to realize that the room was filled with trunks and boxes ready for the move to the dower house. Every flat surface was heaped high with her things, including every chair and settee.

She pointed at the Turkish rug in front of the fire, then arched a brow when he hesitated. “Too good for the floor these days, are ye?”

Arabel blew out an impatient breath. “Auntie, please—”

“The floor will do just fine,” he assured them.

Wanting to keep the peace and quiet—literally—Garrick snatched up two large pillows and a tartan throw from the settee, then gently took Arabel by the elbow to lead her toward the fireplace. When she tried to pull her arm away, he held tight.

“Won’t this be nice?” he commented meaningfully to her as he dropped the pillows onto the rug. “All of us sitting here in front of the fire, chattingquietly,while Lady Rowland grows sleepy.”

Her eyes narrowed on him, and she shook her head. “We’re not dressed,” she bit out, daring to dart her gaze from his bare chest down to his bare feet.

He quirked a grin, then gave her the same head-to-toe look she’d given him . . . except much more deliberate and blatantly lascivious. He drawled in a masculine purr, “We are certainlynot.”

Her hands clenched into tiny fists, even as her arms still clasped over her chest. Regrettably.

“Here.” He slipped the throw over her shoulders to placate her.

“Thank you,” she grudgingly replied, then wrapped it tightly around herself.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, helping her unroll it around her neck. Although, if truth be told, it vexed him to cover her up, when what he wanted to do was peel the night rail from her body and stare at her in the firelight.

But if he’d have suggestedthat,she would have most likely slapped him.

Again.

“Arabel, sit.” Matilda gestured at the rug and then waved her hand toward the fireplace. “Townsend, stoke the fire.”

He leaned in close to Arabel’s ear as he helped her to the floor. “Your aunt does know that I’m an earl, correct?”

“AnEnglishearl,” she returned as she tucked her legs beneath the throw. She flashed a saccharine smile and waved her hand toward the fire with the same imperial gesture as her aunt. “Go on—stoke, stoke!”

He slid a narrowed glance at her, then took up the poker and lowered onto his heels to stir up the coals.

“Isn’t this nice?” With a thin smile, Matilda rested her capped head against the chair back. “Just like old times.”

Garrick tossed in two chunks of coal from the hearthside bucket, then glanced at the old woman over his shoulder. “Old times? When did I make up a fire for you in the past?” He added in a mutter, low enough that she wouldn’t hear, “Shirtless.”

Arabel bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Och! Not the fire, lad.” Matilda looked at him if he’d gone mad. His lips twitched at the irony of it. “All of us together.”

He stole a questioning glance at Arabel, who held his gaze for a beat before looking away. He jabbed the poker at the coals as he asked casually, feigning disinterest, “When was that?”

“That summer before you left the highlands.”