Page 70 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Tramp’s barking would eventually stop if Fawkes allowed him to lick the bowl.
The phrase, “Och, aye,” was universally useful in making a lassie think he was listening, when in fact he was thinking of something else.
Merida’s laughter made his heart lighter than he’d ever expected.
The pair were still chuckling as Merida helped him clean up his small kitchen.
“What are we going to do now, Mr. MacMillan?”
“I think, all things considered, ye might call me Fawkes. Yer—Ellie does.”
The little girl nodded happily, legs swinging from the chair where she’d perched. “I call EllieEllie, Fawkes, you know why?”
Distractedly, Fawkes shook his head, intent on cleaning his hands before he entered the bedroom-cum-laboratory. “Why?”
“My papa called her Danielle.Everyonecalls her Danielle. But my nurse told me I wasn’t to call herMama, because she’s not my mama and my mama is dead. So I asked Ellie what to call her, and you know what? She got down on her knees and hugged me and told me to call her Ellie, because it was what she liked to be called, even if no one called her that, and it would be like my special name for her.”
Slowly, Fawkes turned, processing all this information.
When she’d appeared at his front door that first night, she introduced herself as Ellie.
Nae one else calls her that. Just Merida.
Whom she loved.
“Perhaps…” He swallowed, then shrugged. “She thinks we’re special enough to call herEllie.”
“Maybe,” the girl agreed, hopping down. “And I think you’re probably special, Fawkes, you know why?” As usual he didn’t bother responding, because he knew she would tell him anyhow. “Because she’s staying here. I don’t think she’s supposed to spend the night in a house that’s not her family’s house.”
Merida was right; Ellie’s reputationwouldbe ruined, if it was ever learned that she’d spent the night with the Duke of Death. Her father had been rigid in his interpretations of Society’s rules, which is why her sister Georgia had been disowned, despite her eventual marriage to a duke.
But Bonkinbone—her father—is dead now, eh? Thanks to ye, ye puir bastard.
Sighing, Fawkes scrubbed his hand over his face. “Aye, Merida, ye might be right.”
“Now, what are we going to do?”
With a shake of his head, Fawkes unlocked the door to the second bedroom.“Iam going to make Ellie something to make her stomach feel better.Yeare going to stand right here in the doorway. Ye’re no’ to take a step into this room, aright?”
“What?Ever?”
“Ever,” he repeated, already pulling out ingredients.
“What if the room is on fire, and I have a bucket of water?”
Fawkes felt his lips twitch. “No’ ever.”
“What if the wholeplaceis on fire, and Tramp is in there, and his tail is stuck, and no one else is in the room, and I have to rescue him?”
The dogwouldbe dumb enough to have a cabinet fall on him, wouldn’t he?
Fawkes shook his head. “Then ye come and get me or Ellie. Dinnae come in here, lassie, there are dangerous chemicals.”
“What if you and Ellie are inside andyou’restuck and the building is on fire and also my head is on fire.”
“Whywould yer head be on fire, lassie?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I sponk-anusly composted?”
