“The hell we will,” his answer came dry and final.
Naturally, the little lass did not care for that. “What, you mean to impose on my hospitality?”
He scowled and she narrowed her gaze. “This fire has arson written all over it.” His arm shot out, hand pointing at the general direction of the cottage.
As he ran inside the crumbling building, he saw burnt torches suspiciously scattered on the ground. A family in their rest would never use any of those.
“You think I don’t know that?” Her reply had the power to surprise him.
“It’s not the first time something like this happened,” he surmised, calling himself stupid for not realising it.
“No,” she said simply. Her arms wrapped protectively around her, and he had this impulse to offer a harbour of protection.
“The manor income has been drained to cover for the damage done,” he completed.
“Yes.”
One hand went to his tapered hips, the other raked his hair as he drew air in forcefully. “Damn it all to hell!” His glare bored into her. “And you want to ditch the only possibility to save your clan.” By breaking their fake betrothal, she would be out at sea, alone and exposed.
“Your clan is too important to be embroiled in this.”
“Well, Darroch, unless you chase me out of here, we’ll continue to be.”
CHAPTER FOUR
After Murray informed Lachlan that Moira had gone to the small barn, he found her inside one of the enclosed pens. Woofs and little mews came from the others.
The sun headed to the west, most of the afternoon gone, Lachlan and Moira had spent the day managing the aftermath of the fire and organising the rebuilding of the cottage.
He approached and saw she sat on her haunches holding a fluffy lamb while two others competed for her attention, emitting eager bleats. The scene forced Lachlan to halt, touched by the tenderness. Her arms tried to scoop all three of the little white animals as she murmured soothing words to them.
At the sound of her voice, the calico she-cat left her nest and brought her kittens to Moira. Faint mewling came from the defenceless tiny devils before the feline mother gathered them at Moira’s feet. Seeing the cosy reunion, the dog also brought her puppies and, in a minute, the cramped pen transformed into a merry party.
The lass gave attention to everyone, stroking their coats and talking softly.
His insides melted at the view of Moira and her menagerie, relaxed and content.
“These little devils will be catching mice in no time,” he announced.
Her head swivelled to him, a ghost of a smile still on her pouty lips. The smile died, but not before he absorbed its exquisite beauty.
“Is there any problem?” she asked, and straightened to face him.
Instead of answering, he strode to the festive pen. “A diverse collection you have here. Where do they come from?”
Enormous eyes strolled over his frame, taking in his clean tartan over a white shirt, bare knees, and boots. Eventually, she found his gaze. Her perusal scoured over him as if it had been a physical touch.
Parted lips breathed, making her tartan-clad chest rise. He longed to measure her pert breasts with his palms.
“The cats and the dogs are strays. The lambs are orphaned,” she summarised, finally ungluing her gaze from him. “These are Belvedere, Fleece and Cloud,” she introduced the fluffy lambs.
“Why Belvedere?” Fleece and Cloud he could understand, but the other name puzzled him.
She shrugged a delicate shoulder, her eyes fleeing from his. “It means ‘good to look at’ in Italian,” she said as if it explained her choice.
The petite woman had a heart of butter, by the looks of it. Together with her unwavering resolve, it made for an explosive combination.
“And did you know your name comes from Greek, meaning destiny?” he asked amused.