Page 16 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Though, now that Flora pointed it out, she supposed that could be taken as flirting…but, no. The laird wasn’t interested in any of that. Their arrangement was simply transactional; nothing more, nothing less.
“Olivia?”
Olivia blinked, shaking her head with nervous laughter. “I daenae think he’s leading me on, if that’s what yer concernedwith. We had…quite a bit o’time to talk during our ride back. He was very gentleman-like the entire time.”
Flora exhaled loudly, clearly relieved by her answer. “Oh, good! But daenae think I willnae be keeping a close eye on him. He steps outta line, an’ I’ll box his ears fer ye.”
“I appreciate that,” Olivia chuckled lightly, still over-analyzing her every interaction with the laird until now. He was…kind to her, yes. A bit gruff at first, but who didn’t have walls up against a stranger at first? And, in truth, there were moments during their ride home that she may have leaned a bit too far back into his chest, or perhaps took a bit too long to release his hand when he helped her dismount for the night. But, she hardly considered any of that flirting--and, he was simply acting the part as laird. That was all.
“Olivia?”
That was…all, right?
“Olivia? Ye with me?”
Olivia blinked, suddenly aware the pair of them had stood up at some point. Her face began to flush, and she opened her mouth to apologize.
“Oh dear…are ye getting hungry, Olivia?” Flora asked. “I’m so sorry--and here I am going on and on about idle gossip. Come; we’ll head back to the castle fer lunch.”
Olivia nodded eagerly, knowing full well that the truth would ruin her for the rest of time.
9
Arthur finally emerged from his study, stretching out his back with a slight groan. “Och, nay…I’ve only been gone fer a few days. How did so much work pile up at once?” He rubbed the back of his neck, relieved to have an excuse to step away for a bit.
Trekking through the castle, he once more found himself in the dining room, his mother and sister already sitting and chatting away over a steaming plate of salmon atop a bed of wild carrots and onions. He took his usual seat at the table, reaching towards the fish and pulling off a large slab for himself.
“Welcome back to the world o’ the livin’, sweetness,” his mother teased.
He managed a grunt in reply, hungrily devouring his first helping in less than a few bites. Scooping the vegetable medley onto his fork, he went to pop it in his mouth next, only pause,taking another glance around the table. “And where’s the wee selkie at?”
Both women eyed him with a curious frown.
“Ah–me betrothed,” Arthur corrected himself.
“Oh!” Flora’s eyes lit up, her hands clapping together in delight. “I’m afraid I wore the poor thing out this morning. Took her to the shores and showed her how MacDonnells pass the day away.”
The thought of Olivia sloshing through the waves brought a chuckle out from Arthur, and he quickly stuck the vegetables into his mouth.
“Aye, the dear practically looked ready to pass out when ye brought her back,” his mother laughed. “She went up to her room fer a wee sleep. Said not to wait up with lunch.”
That wouldn’t do at all. “I’ll have the cook mix her a bowl of pottage with the leftovers an’ take it to her later,” Arthur resolved. He then reached for his goblet, washing the savory meal down with a braggot ale, the sweet tang of honey and warm spices tempting him to take a laydown for himself. As he set the cup aside, Arthur suddenly became aware of both women’s eyes fixated on him, as if scrutinizing his every action.
“Aye, ye pair of lang-nebbits; what ye wanna ask about?”
The women exchanged looks, his twin clearing her throat anxiously as his mother took that as cue. “Ye better be honest wit me this time, son. About yer real interest with Olivia.”
“Ye already heard me interests, Mam,” Arthur replied, knowing full well this conversation was bound to happen sooner or later.
“Aye, so ye said to the council,” his mother agreed. “But they arnae here to be convinced, now are they?”
“She’s a lovely lass, Arthur,” Flora added softly. “And ye have a tendency to…well…”
“Stop at merely beddin’ them,” their mother finished curtly.
Arthur nearly choked on his ale, having mistakenly lifted his cup for another swig. He set it down a touch more force than he meant to, wiping his beard clean while a slight scowl crossed his lips.
“Crivens, the pair o’ye! Must I remind ye that I’m still to laird o’this here clan? Ye’d do well to remember yer tone around me.”
