“And I’m not allowing a granddaughter—” Jamie waved his hand in a vague sort of encompassing motion. “A granddaughter of mine, however many generations removed she might be, to be alone in a cottage with a man who is not her husband.”
“I am perfectly—”
“Honorable,” Jamie finished for him, “which I know very well, lad. ‘Tis why you’ll agree that she should come home and sleep in my hall until she’s wed.”
Mairead found her hand taken by her—well, she supposed he was her grandfather, never mind the twistings of her lineage. What she did know was that she’d just been pulled away from the man who had just risked his life to rescue her. She started to speak, then decided perhaps ‘twas best to remain silent and see which way the wind blew for a bit. Oliver had rescued her, true, but he was braw and charming and perhaps he would reconsider the things he’d said whilst they’d been running away from her clan. The Future was no doubt a very large place with many beautiful women who would fight each other to have him look at them twice.
“Come along, Mairead lass,” Jamie said, patting her hand, “and let’s see you settled. Your lad there can visit you occasionally if you can tolerate it.”
“But—” Oliver protested.
“Over the course of several months, at least,” Patrick added, “before he attempts anything more serious.”
Oliver took her hand back and laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll do whatever is required,” he said, making Jamie a small bow. “To your satisfaction, of course, my laird.”
Jamie removed her hand smoothly from Oliver’s. “Then, again, you’ll agree that she should come to the keep.”
Mairead found her hand taken again by Oliver and tucked under his elbow. “If I’m allowed to come along? Absolutely.”
“Do I have a say?” Mairead asked, pulling her hands away from them both.
“You do, of course,” Jamie said, reaching for her hand and tucking it under his elbow. “And as your nearest kin and laird, permit me to escort you to the family hall, just as I would do for a favored daughter. I’ll make the concession that your lad might come along if it pleases you.”
Mairead looked at Oliver who sighed and stepped back, as if he conceded the battle.
“Well, you needn’t go that far,” she said.
He looked at Jamie, then made him a low bow. “Might I hold her other hand as we deliver her to your luxurious hall, my lord?”
Mairead looked at Jamie to find him watching her with a very faint smile.
“He has decent manners, at least,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we set off and find supper? My lady will see you properly settled for the night. Your lad there is perfectly capable of caring for you, I’ll admit, but propriety demands a discreet distance between the two of you until you’ve decided if you’ll have him or not. He might hold your hand if you’ll allow it.”
Mairead looked at Oliver to find him watching her carefully. She supposed that if the time were ever to come to find out what the lay of the land looked like, it was the present one.
“Do you want to?”
He looked pleasingly surprised. “Of course I do.”
“And you’ll come for supper?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“I’m going to need a chair for this,” Patrick muttered.
Mairead couldn’t help but agree with him. He shot her a brief smile, then gathered up Ewan Cameron and invited him to go home with him for supper. She watched them walk off toward the witch’s forest, then found herself being escorted down the meadow to her home. She supposed she should have been a little more concerned that the landscape might have changed, leaving her stepping into a hole and twisting her ankle, but the truth was nothing had changed all that much.
Well, aside from the obvious.
And the fact that one of her hands was tucked into the crook of Jamie’s elbow and the other was being held by a man who rubbed his thumb over hers continually, as if he either sought to soothe her or remind her that he was there. She looked at him and wished for nothing more than time to sit with him and find out why he was still wearing his demon gear, but he’d lost his wee rucksack, which she hoped someone would think belonged to Master James and push him into the fire for possessing.
She considered. She might need a very long walk in the daylight to wrest her thoughts away from a very sour place and put them in more pleasant pastures.
She focused again on Oliver and found him watching her as if he feared she would dash off into the night if the wrong thing were said.
“I am well,” she said. If she sounded very hoarse and a little unnerved, she suspected he understood.
“We’ll talk later,” he promised.
