“Music?” he asked.
She looked at him in surprise. “Do you want me to sing to you?”
He shot her a look she couldn’t quite interpret. “I think I might weep if you do, so perhaps later. Unless you can think of a madrigal or something akin to it.”
She shrugged and did her best with what she remembered that silly Frenchman having foisted off upon them whilst he’d been about his work of looking for ready ears. Tasgall had suffered it for exactly three days before he’d sent the poor man off to look for more tolerant pastures, which Mairead discovered later he’d found in Cameron Hall.
She finished and looked at Oliver to find him rubbing his eyes.
“Are you unwell?” she asked.
He shook his head and smiled, his eyes very red. “You have a beautiful voice. I warned you I would get a little sentimental.”
She shook her head. “Daft lad.”
“That was a very beautiful song,” he said quietly. “I think I’ve heard it before.”
Mairead nodded to herself. He did, after all, have the benefit of several centuries of music in his past. That particular tune had always pleased her and the accompanying words were, she would allow, not entirely too syrupy sweet.
Oliver held out his hand for hers. She supposed he could drive and hold her hand at the same time, which might be, as Ewan suggested, a decent nudge in the right direction. She held his hand and decided to see if that made any difference.
Her decision was, once they’d reached her family home a pair of hours later, that whilst it had been quite lovely, it hadn’t inspired any declarations of affection or proposals of marriage.
Oliver turned the car’s engine off, dropped his hands into his lap, then looked at her.
“Thank you for coming with me to Cameron’s.”
“Of course,” she said. “The helicopter was… well, it was a marvel and nothing but.” She put on a smile. “Thank you for helping me find my manuscript.”
He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but either his good sense or a lack thereof apparently stopped him.
“Wait for me?” he asked.
She suspected she might be doing that forever if something didn’t change soon, but she was a woman with a plan. She wasn’t entirely certain what that plan entailed past encouraging looks, but she wasn’t unable to think on her feet.
She nodded, then watched him climb out of the car. She listened to him fetch her gear out of the back of the beast, thenopen her door. She took his hand and allowed him to help her out, then followed him up to the front door.
He knocked, which she couldn’t argue with. Jamie and Elizabeth had been very kind to her, but it was still their home now and not hers. She found that the thought made her feel slightly out of sorts, which seemed particularly ridiculous.
Perhaps she needed more sleep.
Jamie welcomed them inside, quizzing Oliver about their activities as they made their way to the fire. She listened with half an ear, made polite conversation with Elizabeth and the children, promised to show Patricia all the lovely things Emily had given her, then came to a conclusion that seemed to sum up what was bothering her the most.
Dating, much like traveling through time, was not for the faint of heart.
She looked at Oliver who was sitting in a chair opposite her only to find him watching her as if he had no idea what she was thinking. She scowled at him, had a look of surprise in return, and wondered if anyone would think she’d lost her wits if she took off one of her trainers and threw it at him.
She glanced at him again, just to fix in her mind how exceptionally braw he was before she mussed his hair with one of her shoes, only to find that he’d taken to resting his elbow on the edge of his chair and his chin on his fist. He was watching her with the faintest of smiles, which she hardly knew how to interpret.
“Well, young Oliver,” Jamie said suddenly, “you’d best hie yourself off to your wee cottage for the night. Mairead needs her rest.”
Oliver blinked, then looked at Jamie as if he’d just woken up from a particularly lovely dream. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It might be time to end your date,” Jamie said mildly.
Oliver frowned. Mairead found that to be somewhat promising because she didn’t care at all for the way her grandfather was encouraging Oliver to get up and move toward the front door.
Then again, doorways were useful in certain situations.
