Ewan made opening and closing motions, hopefully of a book and not some sort of medieval torture device that was in Oliver’s future.
Oliver shrugged helplessly.
Ewan rolled his eyes and walked back into the office, shaking his head.
He considered joining the lads, but felt the call of something from the kitchen. He made Cameron and Sunshine a small bow, waved to Sam, then wandered back into Madame Gies’s domain without delay. He made pleasant conversation with her for a bit,flattering her out of a slice of chocolate cake that should have earned her a spot on some exclusive cooking competition, then excused himself to see if anyone might have returned his favorite Highland lass to the great hall. He chewed happily because the cake was indeed superb, then came to a skidding halt in the middle of the hall.
He almost dropped his slice in surprise.
“Oh, my giddy aunt,” Ewan breathed.
Oliver would have spared a moment to wonder why Ewan always found himself in the most advantageous locale for an elbow to the ribs or a smart flick between the eyes, but he was too busy gaping at the apparition coming down the stairs. He reminded himself thatapparitionwas a very poor choice of words, but to be honest, he found that his usually extensive vocabulary had completely deserted him.
Mairead was walking down the stairs with Emily, dressed in black. Mairead, not Emily, though Emily was dressed very nicely in black trousers and a white blouse topped off with a cream cashmere sweater. Mairead was wearing a modest pair of black cargo trousers, a black polo neck jumper, and black trainers on her feet. Her hair was slicked back and no doubt contained in an equally elegant braid.
She was, in a word, glorious.
She bounced down the final handful of steps and continued her jaunty journey over to stop in front of him and look at him with bright eyes.
“What do you think?”
He could only stare at her, speechless.
Ewan put his hand lightly—and very briefly, because he obviously knew what was good for him—on Mairead’s shoulder. “He’s overcome by your beauty.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Oliver wheezed. Though perhapsbeautifulwasn’t the proper word.Ridiculously sexywas likely much closer to the mark, but he was trying to be a gentleman and there was still wooing to accomplish before he simply collapsed in front of her and begged her to put him out of his misery and marry him that very afternoon.
“Are you thinking dramatic thoughts?” Derrick murmured from where he’d obviously come to stand next to him.
Oliver elbowed him, probably with unnecessary force, but when a man was in the middle of dramatic thoughts about the woman he most definitely might love, there was nothing else to be done. He could only look at Mairead and nod, hoping she might interpret that in a positive way. He watched her as she was invited to gather with a few of the lads and examine possible gear for the mission. Ewan’s Gaelic was excellent, something Oliver hadn’t paid all that much attention to before, and his ability to explain the technical side of their operation was unsurpassed. He glanced to his right to find Derrick standing there, watching with a slight frown.
“I think,” Oliver said slowly, “that we may have underestimated him.”
“He’s still annoying.”
“I never said he wasn’t,” Oliver conceded, “but there’s more to him than I suspected all these years.”
“He didn’t helpmewin my wife.”
Oliver pursed his lips. “That was dumb luck on your part and a great deal of pity on hers.” He paused. “I will concede that you haven’t completely botched the whole affair yet.”
“Make lists,” Derrick advised.
Oliver looked at him narrowly. “My bloody book was your idea, wasn’t it?”
Derrick tapped the middle of his forehead. “You think anyone else could have come up with such brilliance? Make a newsection and entitle it,All the Things I Love about Mairead MacLeod. Add to it constantly. Show it to her every day.” Derrick nodded knowingly. “Trust me on this.”
Oliver had to admit that Samantha seemed very happy and Derrick was aggressively besotted, so perhaps the suggestion couldn’t be dismissed out of hand. He caught the earbud and mic that Peter tossed him, then found that all he could do was stand and watch as his lady was swept up into the usual madness of pirates on the prowl.
“She’s lovely,” Sam said, smiling at him on her way past him. “We have plans to talk John Bagley into a few self-defense courses for women. I think swords might be involved.”
Oliver could only stare at her, mute.
He watched her join Sunshine who was standing with the collection of souls he was rather fond of. And when the one he loved looked over and held out her hand toward him, he gave himself up for lost and walked over to see what the brief might contain.
A successful hunt and a lovely supper later, he wandered downstairs to crash on the couch which was his usual habit when at Cameron Hall, though Cameron and Sunshine had given him his own room a pair of years earlier. One of the perks of being part of the clan, no doubt.
