Maura dusted off her hands. “Tomorrow, Greta. I promise.”
Alec lent his wife a hand up and onto her feet. “What of me? Am I not worthy of a sprinkling of your fairy dust?”
The children dispersed.
“I believe you are well able to see to yourself,” she told him tartly.
“Ah, Maura, you wound me.”
She snorted, tugging her hand away.
They began the walk back toward the hall. “I apologize for my abrupt departure and return to Glasgow,” he said smoothly. “I hope you can forgive me. It was a matter I neglected to attend to before we left there.”
“You needn’t apologize, and there is certainly nothing to forgive. I understand that you must tend to your affairs.”
“A forgiving wife. I consider myself blessed. I trust you had a pleasant day?”
“I did.”
Her tone was such that Alec was a trifle affronted.
“Tell me of it, Irish.”
“I fear there is little to tell.”
“Oh, come, there must be something.”
Suddenly he stopped short. Maura turned to face him. His expression was odd.
Something leaped in her breast. “What?” she said. “What is it?”
“My good woman, there are cobwebs in your hair.” He flicked them away with his fingers. “Fairy dust?” he inquired.
Annoyed, Maura longed to slap his hand away. Damn the man! Must he be so observant?
Nor was he done. “And I believe”—he plucked something from the folds of her gown—“yes, I was right. There are bits of fern in your skirt. I expected a few blades of grass. But not ferns. Most assuredly not fairy dust in either case.”
Did he tease? Or did he mock? With him, she could never be sure.
She wet her lips. “I was at the wishing well this morning.”
“But there are no ferns there. There is nothing there, save the well.”
“I strayed from the path several times.” If she was defensive, she couldn’t help it. In truth, she had searched the area aroundthe wishing well and all the way down to the loch. “I played with the children this afternoon. Oh, and this morning I spent a little time in the garret. I imagine that’s where I picked up the cobwebs.”
“The garret?”
Maura was irritated. Must she account for every moment of the day? By heaven, she would not.
Particularly when she’d met Murdoch that morning.
Last night she’d crept into Alec’s study. The money Alec had told her about—the money hidden in his desk—was precisely where he’d said it would be. She took nearly all of it and tucked it in the pocket of her robe. She’d given it to Murdoch to take back to Castle McDonough. By the time he returned to Scotland, she hoped her search would be over. Her deceit was wearing on her. With every day that passed, she feared that Alec would discover why she was there.
That could not happen. It would not happen, she assured herself.
Now, if only she believed it!
Maura lifted her chin. “There are some lovely pieces of silver in the garret. I thought to have them cleaned and displayed in one of the parlors.”
