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“Ah, the Laird will certainly have me hide too,” Jonathan mused aloud, rubbing the back of his head.
“Glad ye’re understandin’,” Dougal said. “Now, let’s be off. Ye take care now, Jonet.”
“Aye Uncle Dougal.” Though she did not have to in the wide hallway, she stepped to the side and watched them pass. For a few moments, she stared after them. Jonathan turned, looking back at her and she offered him a smile and a wave, to which he returned eagerly.
She turned away and continued to her room where she found Freya, tidying up her bed.
Freya turned to her as soon as she entered, her shoulders stiff and her chin lifted. Jonet sighed. She was in no mood for Freya’s formalities.
“Ye rose early, Miss Jonet,” Freya said.
“I ken. I had a bad dream.”
Freya blinked at that, her brows dipping into a slight frown. “Is it the same as the ones ye’ve had before?”
“Aye,” Jonet nodded tiredly. She sat on her bed and watched as Freya went to fetch her dress. “I daenae think I will be able to escape them any time soon. Christal gave me some auld man’s milk, though, and helped cheer me up.”
“I see.”
Jonet did not comment about Freya’s lackluster response. Whenever she mentioned the past, or dreams of the past, Freya would become like this. Jonet supposed it was because she simply did not know how to help Jonet with it, since Freya did not have a natural talent for giving comfort. Or perhaps Freya thought Jonet did not want to talk about it. Whatever the reason was, Jonet did not bother to ask.
She was content to dress in silence. Perhaps later she would be in good enough a mood to seek Freya out during her duties to bother her. She had always taken joy in that, in watching Freya’s cheeks grow pink and her valiant attempts to fight off Jonet’s constant waves of teasing.
Once Freya was done with her hair, braiding it over her shoulder, there came a knock on the door. Freya went to answer it and there was a young maid standing at the door.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, Miss Jonet,” said the maid. “But ye have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Jonet echoed with a frown and then it dawned on her. “Does it happen to be a tall man with blond hair?”
The maid nodded.
“He says his name is Matthew McDulaigh and he wishes to meet with ye.”
Jonet heaved a great sigh. She knew this would happen and as she promised herself, she would not let it go any further than it already had.
Chapter 6
The Laird’s Castle was always a sight to behold and Matthew thought he could spend hours traversing the hallways. From the outside, it appeared to cut straight into the sky, and he wondered how many staircases he would be able to ascend before his legs grew tired. The excitement he felt from that thought alone only drove his fervor, determined to see this plan through to a successful end.
That thought was why he would not allow yesterday’s unfortunate encounter with the Laird’s daughter to hinder him. Granted, he had not been expecting such a response. Matthew was not used to women reacting so… adversely. They usually fell so easily for him that his previous cons would pass quite easily. Easily enough for him to grow a little bored.
Jonet MacTavish will prove to be quite interesting at least.
Matthew would not complain. He had always liked a challenge.
He shot out of his chair from a bout of sudden excited energy. The guard had taken him to a sitting room to wait for Jonet, but he could no longer sit still. He paced the wide room, drinking in what would soon be his. What he would be able to call his own once he had cast aside his terrible old life.
“Ye seem quite excited.”
Matthew’s heart jumped at the sudden voice, yet he did not whirl round to face it right away. He continued studying the intricate carvings on the mantle above the fireplace before he turned to face Jonet. She was standing by the threshold, regarding him steadily.
The response he had ready on the tip of his tongue dissolved the moment he saw her. She wore a green dress, the color of grass, with a dark shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her thick, black hair was braided over her one shoulder, with curls framing her face. Matthew wondered if he would ever grow used to her beauty, one that was strong enough to knock sensible thoughts from his head.
He quickly tried to bring himself together when he realized she was waiting for him to answer. “Excited to see ye, Miss Jonet? Because I am.”
“There is nay need for the formalities,” Jonet ventured further into the room. “Ye may call me Jonet.”
Matthew’s brows rose. He had to admit—he never expected her to be so… composed. He had expected an insecure woman who would jump to be with the first man who looked her way, considering all that was being talked of about her.
