He chuckled. “Flora? Nay. That lass is loyal to a fault. He paused. “Hold on, what are ye referring to?” he asked, tilting his head innocently, but his eyes flared bright.
Did she dare tell him what she was thinking? That she wanted him to kiss her. That she wanted to get lost in the feeling of a passionate kiss by someone who cared?
She sighed. No. She didn’t. “Did I tell you how much I appreciate you procuring all these desserts? I have no idea how I would ever eat them all, so I do hope you and the others will help eat them.”
“Changing the subject are ye?” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll allow it. For now,” he smirked.
Taking another bite from the creme horn, she was careful to not let any of the creme escape. Because for certain, if he did that same move again, she would not be able to control her actions.
“May I ask ye a question?” His tone grew serious.
Nervously, her hand went to her stomach. Had he figured out she was with child? Nothing good could come of that. She thought she was doing a fair job of keeping the babe a secret. But as the months went along, it would be harder and harder to do so.
“Y-yes,” she answered, her voice wavering.
“With the exception of last eve, when ye wore that lovely gold gown, why do ye always wear gray?”
Her shoulders sagged in relief. It wasn’t about the babe. “Oh, I’m sorry to confess that it is the only color of gown I own. There’s no real reason for it. It’s just what I have.” There was no way she was going to tell him that it was because it was the only color Victor would allow her to wear.
“Ye looked beautiful in gold last eve. I think I should like to see ye in vibrant colors that will complement ye.”
She flushed. She couldn’t afford to pay for sweet treats. She certainly couldn’t afford to pay for a new wardrobe. It was on her list of things to acquire once she had secured lodging and settled. But until then, the gowns she arrived with would have to do.
“I think ye should take Lizzie to the modiste with ye and spend the day.”
She waved her hand in front of her in dismissal. “I am fine. I’ve got work to do. The ledgers to continue reviewing. I am almost done.” Panic rose in her throat. She didn’t want the embarrassment of having to tell him she couldn’t afford a handkerchief let alone a new gown.
“Jocelyn.”
She stared into her tea, seeing the small bits of leaf floating in the steeped brew.
“Jocelyn,” he called again. “Look at me.”
He kept his voice gentle, but with enough seriousness in it to make her look up.
She met his eyes.
“I didn’t offer that for it to cost ye aught. ’Tis my treat. Ye and Lizzie can make a day of it. The modiste can help ye choose colors to complement ye. Styles as well, whate’er ye need, she will help ye with.”
He silenced her, putting up his hand. “I willna accept nay for an answer. I insist.”
“What are ye insisting from the poor woman now, Gunn?” Lizzie said, breaking the tension that had begun to hang thick in the air.
“Lizzie, as always, ye have impeccable timing,” Gunn quipped, standing to greet her.
She smiled wide. “Funny, Malcolm says the same thing. Och, are those desserts from Liam?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, please sit and have one,” Jocelyn offered. “Or three.” She laughed.
Plucking a macaron out of the box, Lizzie looked at Gunn. “Well, must I ask a second time?” she prodded, rolling her eyes.
Jocelyn found herself really liking Lizzie. She loved her carefree spirit, and she wasn’t afraid to speak directly.
“Ye are incorrigible. I dinna ken how Malcolm deals with ye.”
“Splendidly,” she countered, waggling her eyebrows.
“Well, since ye insist, I was just insisting that Jocelyn and ye should spend the day at the modiste. My treat.”
