She nodded, resting a hand atop the great beast’s head.
“Good day, love,” she cooed with a smile. “’Tis very nice to meet ye.”
The dog rumbled softly, and she smiled, patting his head.
“He is beautiful,” she commented.
“Aye,” the Laird said, his voice full of pride.
“What’s his name?” she asked curiously.
A long pause followed, which made her wonder if she had asked the wrong question. She turned to him, only to see a dark look in his eyes.
“I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldnae have asked.”
“’Tis alright,” he assured her. “His name is Alec. He is a rather old codger at thirteen but somehow still kicking.”
She laughed softly, but she didn’t look away from him.
“That means ye’ve ken him almost half yer life,” she said.
“Aye,” he answered. “He was me faither’s and has been mine since…” he trailed off, swallowing.
She sensed the memory was a painful one and thought to change the topic.
She stroked the dog’s soft grey ears, smiling as he closed his eyes. “He has good taste, me Laird,” she said, drawing the Laird’s gaze to her. “Submitting to two good owners in one lifetime. He is luckier than most.”
The Laird watched her for so long that she thought he wouldn’t say anything, but then he spoke.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “It would seem that he is.”
Patting the dog one last time, Emily moved back. “Ye must excuse me now, dear Alec,” she told him. “I must report to Mrs. Donnelly, or she’ll have me head.”
The dog whined, as if to protest her leaving.
“’Twas a real pleasure to meet ye,” she added. “Let us play some other time.”
She folded the tape and picked up the sheet of parchment on which she had noted the Laird’s measurements.
“If there is nothing else, me Laird, may I be excused?” she asked, looking at him again.
The dark look had finally left his eyes, and he nodded once. “Aye, ye may.”
With a final curtsy, she left his chambers.
When she was finally alone, she heaved a deep sigh, leaning against the wall. Her encounter with the Laird was most random, and while she worked until evening, one question remained on her mind.
Who are ye?
3
Green eyes, chestnut hair and the feel of soft small hands caressing his bicep woke Adair up for the hundredth time since he had tried sleeping the previous night, but this time when he opened his eyes, he found Alec’s head sprawled across his lap.
“Get up, boy,” he croaked, shrugging the furs off him. “’Tis time to start the day.”
Already, he could see the pale light of dawn through his window and knew he could delay no longer. He had a lot to do, especially if he were to find a woman to play his betrothed in one month.
His father’s friends had daughters. It would be easy to write to them and propose a match. But if he were to end things suddenly, they would no doubt threaten war for ruining their daughters’ chances of securing another match.
