Page 16 of The Laird's Unwanted Wife
She took a step closer toward the bookshelf, frowning slightly. “She looks quite young to be the face of the divine hag.”
“Quite the art critic, are ye?”
Immediately, Aileen’s attention snapped back to Gerald, who had since risen from his chair and propped himself against his desk.
“Ah, nay, me Laird! I mean, Gerald! It’s still a beautiful piece, and ye’re quite talented for shaping all of this from simple slabs of wood!”
Her panicked smile felt more like a grimace, and she found it hard to stop herself from talking. He didn’t want to hear it—nobody wanted to hear it, it wasn’t proper of a lady to go on and on about such inane things, Marcus said—but she found herself unable to stop. Something about the way Gerald looked at her … and with such genuine curiosity … it was the first time someone had seemed to enjoy her ramblings.
“I mean, the detailing with the snowflakes would have been enough, and the mere fact that they’re all different shapes and patterns is incredible. It takes a steady hand to do such careful work, and … and …” Aileen finally ran out of steam, taken aback that, not once, had Gerald interrupted her. Did he actually care to hear what she thought?
“I’m sorry. I … I daenae even remember why I came here in the first place. Please excuse me. Mollie wished for me to help her with her new gowns, so I’ll …”
She’d only taken one step toward the door when the Laird held up his hand.
He wasn’t sure why he raised his hand the way he did. The woman was intruding on his inner sanctum, interrupting his work and going on and on with frivolous compliments. She should have left—he should have let her leave—and yet, Gerald found himself wanting for her company.
His brow furrowed, not quite understanding it himself. But the way she’d gone on just now, so clearly enamored with his woodcarving, it sparked a peculiar warmth in his chest. For once, it wasn’t anger that fueled him. It was intrigue.
“Do ye have a fascination with woodcarvin’, Aileen?”
Her shoe scuffed sheepishly across the study floor, her hands folded behind her back as her face remained flushed with embarrassment. Gods, but she looked so humbled by his inquiry; had no one ever asked her about her interests? How could they not, when she was obviously so passionate about it?
“Ever since I was young, it’s just been fascinating to me,” Aileen explained. “Woodcarving, metalworking—the idea of working an image into a flat surface, carving out the picture that’s hidin’ beneath—it just all seems so …” She looked as if she were searching for the right word. “So … magical.”
Gerald couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “Magical?”
“Aye!” Aileen insisted. “Ye’re takin’ somethin from nature and addin’ to it! Wooden bowls with beautiful scenery carved in, or blade faces carved in runes—it’s like shapin’ the natural world in yer image.”
She straightened slightly, her fists balled and trembling with excitement. “Does that nae sound like magic from storybooks? Of the fair folk shaping water from rivers, or creating beautiful gardens with a touch of their hands?”
Gods, but her enthusiasm was infectious. He could listen to her talk all day. “I cannae say I ever saw meself as making magic.”
“Ye should! Woodcarvin’ is such a wonderful talent, and to feel the work one’s done beneath me own fingers…” Aileen’s expression faltered slightly, her burning joy visibly smoldering. “Ah, but … I’m sorry. That must sound rather childish to ye.”
It did, admittedly. But Gerald realized that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. “Ye have been raising a child on yer own for quite some time. I imagine her views of the world rub off on yerself quite a bit.”
A shy smile crossed Aileen’s lips. “I … I suppose they do. Mollie has such a way of seeing the world … I hope ye’ll get to see it for yerself, soon.”
She paused, a startled gasp suddenly escaping her lips. “Oh, Mollie! That’s right. I came to ask about gowns for the wedding, but Mollie wanted ye to visit her room and see her new gowns as well. I told her ye might be busy, but I got so distracted by the bookshelf?—”
“It’s all right, Aileen.” Gerald pushed himself off his desk, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling with a groan. “I should step away from me work for a while. Helps gain a new perspective.” He paused, an offer dancing along the tip of his tongue.
He knew he shouldn’t say it—he’d explicitly stated the two of them should live separate lives—but he couldn’t help himself. There was something about her, something … enticing. Perhaps it was the way she held herself, how she swayed like a willow while speaking in such an enthusiastic manner. If she was this passionate about woodcarving … what else would she find excitement in? If he approached her, set his arms against the slight curve of her hip … would she be just as excited?
Gerald cleared his throat loudly, trying to brush the mental image away. “If ye’d like, I daenae mind ye coming to me study again. To check on the bookshelf’s progress,” he clarified, though mostly for himself. He had let his imagination run a bit too far, just then. There was no need to romanticize something that would never happen; not as long as he had a say in it. “Ye seemed rather interested in the snowflakes, and I could use a second pair of eyes while I carve out the rest of Cailleach.”
Aileen looked as if she could’ve fallen over there and then. “Truly? Ye wouldnae mind?”
Gerald shook his head, surprised at how much he meant it. Hetrulydidn’t mind her watching his work. “I’ve enjoyed yer perspective greatly. I wouldnae mind hearing more from ye.”
She rose her brow slightly; it was the first time he’d seen her look so … bemused. “Are ye sure ye arenae lookin’ fer yer ego to be stroked?” Aileen’s face immediately fell, obviously worried Gerald would take offense. But it was the farthest from the truth.
“Ah, then yedohave some bite to yeh,” Gerald chuckled lightly. “Good; I was worried t’was only Bannock I’d had to be concerned with.” He blinked, taken aback by the phrasing as he felt his member stiffen against his trousers. Gods; he’d have to lay out in the snow after this. “Ye ken,” he began hastily. “If ye’d like to learn, I could teach ye how to carve wood fer yerself?”
“Truly?”
It was like he’d just promised her the whole of the Highlands to rule over. “Ye can make somethin’ for Mollie, or just fer yerself. Whatever ye desire; I’d be happy to fuel that passion o’yers.”
