Page 8 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Arthur chuckled again, greeting his mother halfway before placing a kiss against her cheek. “Aye; a genuine selkie, that one.”
“What happened to her?” His mother asked, worry creasing her brow. “I ken ye dinnae cause those bruises along her arms and legs–and her poor feet! She looked as if she’d been running fer dear life.”
“She was,” Arthur agreed. “Supposedly, her clan chased her and her kin out of their keep. That’s Olivia MacLarsen, Mam. From MacCulloh.”
She gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “Nay…it cannae be.” She shook her head, Arthur’s arm immediately reaching out to steady the faint wobble in his mother’s legs. “Yer certain?”
“I found her just outside their territory,” Arthur reassured. “She told me herself, too.” He helped his mother to a nearby chair, easing to one knee as to continue speaking face-to-face
“To think, they exiled their laird’s only daughter…” his mother sighed, looking a touch pale around the cheeks. “Thank God ye were there, Arthur.”
“Let’s hope she sees it that way,” Arthur replied softly.
“Why wouldnae she?”
Now it was Arthur’s turn to sigh. “Because she owes me her life now. And I always collect me debts, Mam.”
5
Olivia had almost forgotten how warm and inviting water could be. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night in the bath, though the maids made it clear that wouldn’t be an option.
So, she allowed herself to be toweled off and escorted to the guest room, modestly decorated with mounted heads and skinned pelts from previously hunted beasts. The bed spanned an impressive length, piled with heavy, soft-looking furs to keep the ocean air’s chill at bay. And laid across was a pale-sage nightgown, its quality clearly high by a mere glance.
“The Laird mentioned yer arisaid had been damaged during yer trip,” the maid began. “Our seamstress is already working on tidyin’ up the hem.”
Olivia nodded her thanks, relief flooding her body like the lingering heat from the bath. She gave the room another look-around before going for the gown, dropping her towel andholding the nightdress up against her body to check its general shape.
The collar seemed to settle in the right spot, and the sleeves looked to be a proper length. The skirt, however, went well past her feet, toes barely poking out from beneath the fabric. Still, it was far better than roaming the grounds in the nude, so Olivia offered it back to the maid, holding her arms upright as the gown fell over her head.
Just as the maid laced the last of the strings, a knock on the door was quickly followed by it swinging open, revealing Laird MacDonnell himself. Olivia let out a startled hiss, turning away as the strings of her dress tugged tightly against her waist.
“Aye, ye daft brute! What if I’d hadnae clothing on?!”
“Aye, but ye do.”
Olivia made a sour face, feeling the maid quickly tie off the strings before curtsying the laird’s way. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, leaving the pair alone in the guest room. Much to Olivia’s relief, he remained between the archway, arms folded gently across his chest as he looked her over.
“Wh-what?”
He shook his head and turned to leave. “Come join me at the study; we two have words to exchange.”
Olivia’s face flushed, and she nervously grabbed a thick strand of hair, beginning to weave a braid in an attempt to keep it out of her face. Just what on earth was she about to get herself into…?
The soft patter of footsteps followed behind Arthur as he made his way towards the study. His little selkie hardly seemed open to conversation during their trek, and admittedly, he welcomed the silence with open arms. It had been fairly obvious that Olivia was kind on the eyes, but now, with the light of the keep to fully illuminate her (and without having to worry about the dangers in the wild), Arthur finally had a moment to fully take her in.
He’d been right about her curves, though he was delighted to see she was as full-bodied around her bosom as she was to her waist. Her hair still reminded him of seaweed, but now that it was cleaned and cared to, it was reminiscent of the tall stalks that grew in the waters, swaying gently with a rubescent gleam. And her eyes…they really were the deep depths of the ocean, occasionally catching a rich, beautiful blue as the light hit it just right.
Suddenly, Arthur found himself standing in his study, having instinctively sat in his chair while Olivia sat across. He blinked, shaking his mind free of distracting thoughts, and folded his arms across his desk.
“So, me wee selkie; what do ye plan to do, now?”
Olivia looked surprised.
“Ah; ye assumed ye were a prisoner or some such?”
Olivia offered a shrug in response, still nervously braiding a thick strand of hair. Arthur dug around his desk, offering a spare ribbon her way. She raised her brow slightly, seemingly hoping to prompt a response from him.
“When ye have a sister an’ maither like mine,” he began with a slight smirk. “It helps to have some ladies’ wear on hand. Dinnae ken why they’d always ask me fer ribbons, but after the last dozen times or so, I’ve just gone and tucked a few here an’ there.”
