“Again,” he said, glancing at her, “sword.”
“Don’t they have them, as well?”
He considered. “A few do, actually. And to be fair, I can’t deny their motives in sending me here were not entirely unkind.”
“Did they think a few fortnights in Scotland would balance your humors?”
He smiled. “Exactly that.”
She snorted before she could stop herself, which earned her another brief laugh—
That was cut short and she was pulled up and behind him so quickly that she almost lost her breath. He released her wrist that he had hold of, then shifted to look at her.
“Sorry,” he said, taking her by the arm instead and pulling her forward to stand next to him. He gestured toward the man standing there where there had been no man before.
Or perhaps she had simply not been paying attention to her surroundings, which was far more likely.
The man was obviously a Highlander, dressed properly and wearing an enormous sword on his back. He looked enough like her kin that she would have wagered he was a MacLeod, but perhaps not.
“Patrick,” the man said, making her a bow. “Younger brother of the laird James.”
She felt her ears perk up at that name and spared a wish that she might have the chance to meet the man who had inspired so many legends in her clan. She also rapidly considered her possible connection to the man in front of her.
“And that would make you my uncle?” she asked.
Patrick smiled and it reminded her of her father when he’d been whole and sound, a father who had been full of fine humors and affection for her.
“The very same,” he agreed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced at Oliver. “Did you know I was here?”
Oliver let out his breath carefully. “My apologies, my lord, but I did not.”
“I was distracting him with mindless chatter,” Mairead volunteered.
“I suspect that isn’t all he was distracted by,” Patrick said pleasantly, “which I’ll repay him for later. For now, I will remain here with you and be not only guardsman but chaperon.”
“Oh,” she managed, “there’s nothing to guard. You see, I have three younger sisters who are so beautiful that no one ever looks at me. I’m always perfectly safe.”
She realized she was again babbling, but the thought of needing a chaperon was so ridiculous that she could scarce entertain it. She watched Patrick look at Oliver.
“Are they?” he asked mildly. “Her sisters, I mean.”
Oliver shrugged. “Didn’t notice.”
“Interesting,” Patrick said, nodding. “Mind if I join you?”
Mairead found Oliver was looking at her, but she suspected they wouldn’t have any say in the matter given who the man was, though she wasn’t opposed to another sword within reach. She smiled and nodded. “That would be lovely.”
Patrick made himself at home on a corner of their blanket, then looked with interest at their renderings. He glanced at Oliver.
“Putting her to work earning your freedom?”
“She’s a far superior artist,” Oliver said easily.
Mairead watched him gather up their sheaves and hand them over for inspection. Patrick sifted through them, making approving noises, then handed them back to Oliver. He considered, then looked at her.
“Has he been a gentleman?”
“From the very beginning, uncle.”
