“Very much.”
“Daft man,” she said, shifting uncomfortably.
He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Daft, braw, demanding man?”
“I think there was a compliment in there,” he said with a brief laugh. “Settle yourself comfortably, Mairead, and see if you can’t sleep for a bit. I think we’ll try the faery ring at dusk when the sunset might help us by shining in the eyes of anyone hunting us.”
She shifted so she could put her head on his shoulder which she likely should have found a bit alarming given that she’d never sat with a man’s arms around her, but Oliver was sturdy and solid and warm. That, and she liked very much the way he ran his hand over her hair occasionally, as if he found it, well, beautiful.
She tried to sleep, truly she did, but it was impossible. She had the feeling that what lay before them was more difficult than he wanted to admit which left her wanting to think about anything else.
“You’ve seen my family,” she said, latching on to the first thing that came to mind. “Will you tell me of yours?”
“Hmmm,” he said, shifting a bit, “well, there’s not much to tell. I have four younger siblings, three brothers and a sister, but we don’t speak often.”
“Are they terrible people?”
“To be honest, I didn’t grow up with them, so I don’t know them very well. They’re very involved in flattering my father, so I hear, which takes up a great deal of time.”
“Is he an important man, then?”
“Well …”
She lifted her head and put on a glare for his benefit. “If you tell me he is a duke, I will stick you.”
He smiled. “Nothing so lofty, I fear, though he is a viscount. I haven’t spoken to him in years, so it has little to do with me.”
She suspected there was more to the tale, but whatever it was, it seemed to make him uncomfortable. She cast about for a less tender topic to discuss.
“How do you earn your bread?” she asked “Do you have a wee croft you tend, or a labor you perform?”
She didn’t want to admit that discovering what he did might answer the question of how she might find a way to feed herself. Perhaps given that his father was a lord, he might have a kitchen that needed tending.
“Mairead.”
She smiled before she could stop herself. There was something about the way he said her name that was far more lovely than she deserved.
“I’m thinking,” she admitted.
“I recognize the activity,” he said, lifting his eyebrows briefly, “and I can imagine what those thoughts are. I’ll see that we don’t starve.”
“What are your normal labors, then?” she managed, grasping for a distraction from those very pleasing words.
He shot her a quick smile. “Other than wishing I were the Duke of Birmingham?”
She pursed her lips. “Aye, that.”
“I am, I suppose you might say, a merchant.” He shrugged lightly. “A bit of a fall from a duke, isn’t it?”
“I believe he was little more than a landlord, so that hardly seems any loftier,” she said honestly. “What sort of merchantry is your business?”
“Rich people—and nobility now and again—tell me what sort of treasures they would like to have and I get them the same.”
She pushed away from him and gaped at him. “You’re not a merchant, you’re a pirate!”
He laughed and it was as if Sunshine Cameron’s merry fire had started up, warm and lovely, directly next to her.
