Page 9 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
“That’s…” Olivia’s expression softened, pulling her braid over her shoulder as her fingers dexterously finished it. “That’s considerate of you, Laird MacDonnell.”
Arthur nodded, unable to turn his attention from Olivia’s hair. The ribbon was a beautiful shade of green, perfectly complimenting her gown and the vibrant shade of red in her locks. He couldn’t help but linger on it, wondering what else would go nicely in her hair. Flowers, jewels; his fingers, perhaps, if she would allow it?
“Ye asked if I had a plan, me Laird?”
Arthur blinked, nodding as he turned his attention back to the discussion at hand. “Aye, selkie. I did.”
Olivia visibly hesitated, fingers playing with the ribbon as she spoke. “Well…I would like to find me maither, if at all possible.”
He remembered brief mention of the deceased laird’s wife, though Arthur admitted not to have been listening as intently as he should have. Then again, he’d had a young woman beating against his chest while the information was revealed. “Ye mentioned she’d been taken by yer clan?” he asked.
“Nay clan o’mine, anymore,” Olivia grumbled.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, eyeing Olivia with interest.
“Yer plannin’ a one-man raid, then? Not that I’d be against offerin’ aid…”
“I think I owe plenty enough to ye, m’laird.”
Arthur’s brow rose, but he allowed Olivia to continue.
She seemed to catch the hint, shoulders hunching slightly. “We’d agreed to meet at an old convent close to the border o’me faither’s territory. But–but we were discovered, ‘n she took one of those eejit’s to the ground so I could escape.”
Arthur briefly imagined his own mother pinning a fully-grown man to the ground, rolling about in the dirt while keeping the seasoned warrior in a headlock. He did his best not to chuckle; he had a feeling both mothers would get along famously.
“She sounds as feral as yer are, selkie.”
“Is that how yer gonna reply to every awful part of me life?” Olivia snapped.
Arthur sat up slightly, intrigued by the sudden return of her spark. “Nay, lass, yer right; I shouldnae tease ye like that.” He paused, genuinely taking in the concern laying beneath her dark scowl. “Yer really worried, arenae ye?”
Olivia bit her lip and nodded.
Arthur let out a tired sigh, leaning back into his chair as his mind tumbled about. He’d never regretted getting wrapped into the clan wars; not until now, at least. Though, he supposed putting a face to the enemy made it a bit hard to see them as nothing more than walking targets.
“I ken I blamed ye, but,” Olivia shook her head, standing from her chair as she began to pace. “I–I wonder if I should have done more for them? I mean, Maither gave her body to have meself an’ me brother, an’ he an’ me faither gave their lives to protect the clan.”
“Selkie…”
“So, was there something more I was supposed to do?” Olivia’s nails visibly digging into her palms. “To protect them, or make them happier?”
“’Tis nae yer fault.”
“It has to be!” Olivia snapped, hands slamming against the laird’s desk. “Because otherwise, I’m being punished simply because–b-because…” Her eyes flickered towards the desk, hands quickly hiding behind her back as she took a few shaky steps away. Admittedly, Arthur likely should have reacted to such a violent act…but he couldn’t find it in himself to scare her any further than she already was.
“Olivia.”
She blinked, surprised to hear her name uttered from his lips.
“I will help ye find yer maither,” Arthur promised. “And I will ensure she, an’ yerself, are put under me protection.”
Olivia’s anger fizzled into befuddlement. “A-Aye, m’Laird? Ye would do that fer the daughter an’ wife o’yer enemy?”
Arthur shrugged his shoulders lightly. “He already paid with his life–there’s nae any need fer ye to continue suffering. But,” He held up a hand, catching Olivia’s partially forming smile of relief. “Ye gotta do somethin’ for me, lass. After all, I did have a hand in saving yer life.”
“I…” She visibly swallowed, taking another step away from the desk. “I’ve heard of yer reputation, m’Laird. With…other women.” Another swallow, a nervous flicker of the eye. “An–an if ye think I’ll be one of yer conquests–-”
Laughter erupted from Arthur’s chest, and he shook his head with a smile. “Ach! Nay, lass, ye’re puttin’ the wagon before the horse! I willnae ask anything so lewd; me bed’s plenty warm on its own. Nay, I only need ye to play the role, selkie.”
