Page 10 of The Scot's Perfect Match
"Ye seem to be specifically targeting the people on my land."
She actually laughed at that, waving a hand at her face as if to dry tears that were gathering in her eyes. "Ye think that I wake up each morning thinking of ye? That I would specifically set out to sabotage ye? That is absurd."
"Ye have specifically targeted four of my crofters in the last year. They’ve all gone to Canada."
Her smile faltered then, as if the fact hadn’t crossed her mind. "Canada?"
"Aye. And the lands are sorely lacking without them. I would ask ye no’ to meddle any longer."
She pursed her lips, but didn’t nod, didn’t agree.
"Ava," he implored, using her Christian name. "When are ye going to learn no’ to meddle with other people’s lives?"
She flushed when he said her name, and that bothered him. Not the blush itself, but the fact that he noticed. She always flushed when she was embarrassed or cornered or proud of herself. And damn if he couldn’t tell which it was this time.
She held his gaze, unblinking, as if daring him to say more. That had always been her way, pushing, prodding, smiling all the while. Even as a lass she had a spark that made people draw closer without realizing they’d done so.
It wasn’t just her meddling that unsettled him, but how easily she got under his skin. How quickly she could turn his day sideways with a single look or one of her maddening questions. And how often, far too often, he caught himself wondering what she’d say next.
She made him feel... unsteady. And he hated feeling unsteady.
Especially when she seemed to thrive on it.
He remembered a day when they were adolescents, perhaps fifteen, and she’d dared him to race his horse through the river crossing just after a rain. She’d laughed the whole time, sitting primly on a rock in her riding habit while he came back soaked, furious, and secretly thrilled.
"Well, I am verra sorry that ye are missing the crofters on your land. I am no’ sorry that I have helped people to fall in love and get married. Is that no’ what everyone deserves, happiness?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. He hated that she had a point. What kind of man asked people to stay where they had no future, just because he needed them? Because his father had failed and left him with a tangle of accounts and hungry mouths and fields that needed more than one man could give?
“Aye, they deserve happiness. But there’s more to life than falling in love and vanishing into the horizon. They had homes here. Families. A place.”
Ava crossed her arms, head tilted slightly. “And what exactly were they supposed to do? Spend their best years tending sheep until they froze in their beds at fifty?”
“They had purpose.”
“They had no choices.”
The words landed harder than he expected. She wasn’t wrong. And that stung more than if she had been.
Gavan had come here to chastise her, and yet he was the one feeling thoroughly chastised.
"By the way, I met your Moira cousin this morning. She’s verra sweet. And I’ve invited her to my ball this weekend, which I suppose means that ye’ll be escorting her."
"No’ if I don’t let her come." Gavan knew what he was saying was petty, but the thought of Moira being around Ava wasn’t exactly terrifying. It was more the fact that he was going to have to be around her for a number of hours as they danced.
The idea of Ava dragging Moira into one of her schemes made his jaw tighten. The woman had no boundaries. Moira was kind, trusting, a little naïve. And Ava… Ava had a way of arranging people into her plans before they even realized they were pawns. He didn’t want his cousin becoming one of Ava’s little projects, matched and maneuvered like a chess piece. Not when he was responsible for her season.
He crossed his arms. “Moira’s here to enjoy the season, no’ to be part of your hobby.”
Ava raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do ye think she’ll enjoy most? Reading quietly in a corner? She’s quite excited that there are a number of eligible bachelors back in town.”
He gritted his teeth. Mostly because she wasn’t wrong. But also, because she never gave him the satisfaction of having the last word.
“Are ye implying ye’re about to matchmake my cousin now?”
Ava gave a saccharine smile. “Why would anyone see matchmaking as a threat?”
Gavan tilted his head. “If our roles were reversed, I suspect ye might.”
