The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,7
God rest her soul.”
“I remember how precious it was to you. I also remember the time you were up a tree howling as if Satan himself was holding a torch to your toes because you’d lost it.”
She hid her face in her palms. “Do not remind me.”
“Why ever not?” Cair grasped her elbow and urged her hands away. “I always enjoy a laugh when your brother is wrong. Or acting like a sore-headed bull.”
“You do have a way with words, m’laird.” Her curls bounced. “Ye ken I didn’t want him to pull me out of the tree. The medal was one of the few things I had to remind me of Ma. I wanted him to find it.”
“Yet he didn’t listen.”
Biting her bottom lip, Emma shook her head. “He never listens. But…”
“But?” Ciar asked, waving his palm above the brazier’s fire, letting it warm his fingers.
“You do,” she whispered, moving a wee bit closer and making Ciar’s heart skip a beat. Perhaps more than one. “You found it sometime after Robert had thrown me over his shoulder and hauled me into the house like a bushel of grain.”
He swallowed, making the rhythm of his heart return to normal. “Quite a sight that—he was red-faced and determined whilst you kicked and shouted all the way.”
“I was so embarrassed.”
“You shouldn’t have been. You were angry and fought valiantly.”
“I do not ken about that, but I’ll never forget what happened next.” A delightful giggle made her shoulders waggle. “That’s when I decided you were my knight in shining armor.”
Ciar grinned at the memory of her ardent affection—the glee of a seven-year-old lass. “When I returned it?”
“Aye.” Emma coyly twirled her errant lock around her finger. Lovely. Womanly. Most certainly no longer seven years of age. “You came up to the nursery.”
“Ah, yes.” How could he forget? That’s when she first twisted his heart around her finger just as she was now doing to her hair. “You were curled up in a tiny chair clinging to a floppy doll and crying as if the world had ended.”
“Mm hmm. And then you opened my palm and said—”
“I would have searched all night to make you smile again.”
“See? That’s why you’re so dear to me, Dunollie. You’ve always been ever so thoughtful.”
And you’ve always been ever so precious. Ever so vulnerable yet immeasurably courageous.
He blinked. “Perhaps we ought to be heading back to—”
“M’laird?” Emma asked.
“Aye?”
“We’ve been friends for a very long time.”
“We have, indeed,” he said, drawing out the words. The twist of his gut warned him to tread carefully.
“And yet, I’ve never seen you.”
His throat closed. Poor lass, how difficult it must be. “No,” he whispered.
She raised her hands. “May I?”
“Pardon?”
“Och…” She pinched the tips of her fingers together. “I see through touch.”
“Uh…right. Yes, of course.” Ciar glanced aside. Still on the bench, the lady’s maid leaned forward as if she were about to intercede. “That is if your chaperone does not object.”
“Betty will not mind.” Emma turned her head, though not quite in the maid’s direction. “Will you, Betty?”
The woman sat back and folded her arms while Emma stepped improperly near. Two hands’ width separated them at most. The whisper of her breath caressed him, the scent of fresh lavender filled his senses as if she’d bathed in the blooms only moments ago. The lass placed her hands square in the middle of Ciar’s chest and slowly slid them upward. Though his heart thundered loudly enough to be heard above the music in the hall, her face remained unaffected by the intimate contact. Her expression was serene, and the moonlight made her skin luminous like that of an angel. Slowly, her fingers explored his cravat and, when they moved to the exposed skin beneath his chin, he shuddered with a twinge of awareness sparking through his body.
Emma’s lips parted, making her look too tempting. Indeed, she had developed into a stunning woman.
He pulled away a bit. “I…ah…doubt you’ll like what you find, lass.”
Her hands stilled. “Why?”
“Because I’m a bit…” Some said he was a beast, others an oaf. His features had always been severe. But then he was a man. A Highlander as rugged as the mountains surrounding his home. “Gruff.”
“Then I’ll reckon you are far more interesting that most.” She stepped even nearer, a bit of puzzlement crossing her features. “You’re shivering. Are ye cold as well?” she asked, her fingers inching upward. “Your skin does not feel cold.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ah…I-I am simply not accustomed to such familiarity.”