The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,19
arousing way.
“Tell me a bit about ye.” She tilted her head as though this were not an attempt at seduction. “Where are ye from?”
He swallowed and tried to ignore how much her eyes reminded him of cornflowers dancing in a summer field. “Nottinghamshire.”
“I’ve never been. Is it pleasant?”
“Lovely.”
“Better weather, eh?”
“Less cantankerous. But the hills are scarcely hills at all.” Without thinking, his eyes fell to her bosom. “I prefer this landscape, actually.”
“Where did ye learn how to do all this, English?”
“I built ships. Sailed them. Traveled to all sorts of places. Traded with all sorts of people. Did all manner of things.”
Red brows arched. “All manner? Sounds adventurous.”
“One might say so.”
“Yet ye always look forfochen, English.”
He frowned his puzzlement.
“Weary,” she clarified. “Did all that adventurin’ land ye here?”
“In a sense. It’s how I met Ewan Wylie. He knew ships better than most.”
“So, you and auld Wylie built ships together.”
“Yes. I sold the operation after he died.”
“Must have filled yer pockets right and proper. Is that how ye can afford so much slate from Mr. Gillis? Or Cleghorn’s finest linen for yer drawers?”
His gut hardened. He’d suspected MacPherson had sent her here, either for information or more devious purposes. Now he knew it.
“My drawers are none of your concern, Miss Tulloch,” he warned softly as he rounded the table and joined her beside the hearth. The heat made his beard prickle. “Neither are my pockets.”
She shrugged, but her grin faded into wariness. “I’ve more interest in yer kitchen than yer money, English. This place isnae fit for aught but burnin’ water. How are ye not starvin’?”
“Explain about the window.” With a glare, he edged closer.
She blinked up at him. Retreated a step before her cheeks went fiery, her chin defiant.
“I gave you what you asked, Miss Tulloch. Or, more precisely, what MacPherson sent you here to gather. Now, you will explain why the tower window keeps cracking. Then, you will leave.”
“Angus didnae send me. If he knew I’d come, he’d be—”
“Yes, yes. Denials noted. The window, if you please.”
She glowered. “’Tis cursed.”
With a gusty sigh, he bit down on a foul epithet. “I thought you knew something useful.”
“Such as?”
“Damp weather compromises the frame. Or the stones must be reset. Or the glass must be thicker.” He tilted his head, holding her gaze. “Anything but this superstitious nonsense.”
“A family was murdered in this house. An entire branch of the MacDonnells—”
“Delve into any plot of land in Britain, and you’ll discover death forms the soil beneath our feet. If this place is cursed, we are all cursed.”
She shook her head. “Nae like this. Do ye ken why they call this place Glendasheen?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“It comes from the Gaelic, Gleann Taibhsean. Pronunciation changed a bit over time, I grant ye.”
“Try your bizarre seduction on some other chap.”
“Valley of ghosts. Ghosts. That’s what it means.” She paused. Blinked. Her eyes rounded beneath a frown. “Wheesht. Did ye say ‘seduction’?”
“I’m afraid I’ve work to do.”
“Bluidy hell, English.” She laughed. “First compromisin’ then seduction. Are ye still believin’ I’m here to trap ye into marriage?”
“In my experience, a woman only asks about a man’s wealth when she seeks to marry it. And a lady never asks.”
She held her arms out to her sides and looked down at herself. “Well, now, I havenae the sort of acquaintance with fine ladies and proper gentlemen as ye, English. And I must admit ye’re bonnie as a wee daisy clutched betwixt the teeth of a wee faery floatin’ over a wee waterfall made of sunbeams.” She grinned up at him. “But if this is seduction, I’m dyin’ a spinster.”
He refused to join in her amusement, despite the deep, agonizing itch she sparked throughout his body. “Play the cheeky Scotswoman if you wish,” he gritted. “I know seduction when I see it.”
“Evidently not.” She shook her head in a pitying way. “Ye’re alone too much. Up here in yer castle, nobody to talk to apart from ghosties and yer own sad self.”
“It would be best if you left now,” he snapped. “Before the weather turns.”
She crowded him, reaching up to lay a hand on his shoulder. The position put her body too close to his. “Ye should find a woman to tup ye once in