She yanked the door open. “Sorry, Flora!” she blurted. “I lost track of time and—”
But it wasn’t Flora standing there. It was Niall.
He was leaning against the door frame, a smile playing on his lips.
“Niall!” Charlie stammered, a flush creeping up her neck. “I—I thought you were... I mean, I was expecting... Flora. I skipped lunch and thought she might have come up here with a ladle ready for my head.”
Niall’s grin widened. “No ladle-wielding Flora, I’m afraid. Just me.” He raised his head to look over her shoulder. “I see ye’ve had a productive day.”
“I suppose so.”
“And messy,” Niall added, gesturing at Charlie. “I thought pottersworkedclay rather than wearing it.”
Charlie glanced down at herself. Her apron was covered in clay, as were her arms up to the elbows. She was pretty sure she had it all over her face and in her hair as well.
“Well, you heard wrong,” she said, crossing her arms. “Wearingthe clay is half the fun.”
He snorted a laugh. “Then it seems I still have a lot to learn about pottery.”
He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles before stepping closer. The scent of fresh pine and leather filled her nostrils as he leaned in, his gaze focused on her face. He reached up and gently wiped away some clay smeared across her cheek.
His touch was warm, the pad of his thumb rough against her skin. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she locked eyes with him.
A memory of the night she’d kissed him flashed through her mind. She’d been drunk but the memory wasn’t hazy as drunken memories often were, but was etched into her mind as clear as a sunlit day. The feel of his lips. The weight of his hands at her waist. The sensation of his breath against her skin.
Her lips parted, a soft breath escaping her. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to go up on her tiptoes, wrap her arms around his neck, and feel what she felt that night in the parlor of Niall’s townhouse.
“Niall,” she whispered. She raised a hand to touch his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.
Then suddenly, he stepped back.
He cleared his throat, averting his eyes and turning toward the potter’s wheel and the row of pots she’d created.
“Right. Well, uh,” he stuttered. “I’m glad to see this place in use again.”
Charlie forced a smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, it’s not much but... it’s a start I suppose.”
An awkward silence fell.
“So...er...how are the newcomers settling in?” she blurted.
Niall winced. “As well as can be expected. I’ve housed them in the barn temporarily but we’ll have to find more permanent quarters soon.” He rubbed his chin. “Which will mean building more houses but with all our resources going to the mill I dinna know where we’ll find the stone and timber for that.”
“Why don’t you use brick and tile then?”
Niall glanced at her. “This isnae Edinburgh. Out here such resources aren’t readily available and bringing it here from the capital would be exorbitantly expensive.”
Charlie nodded. “Right.” She glanced at the kiln, biting her lip as an idea began to form in her mind. Would it be possible?
Niall blew out a breath. “Anyway, that’s a worry for tomorrow. I came here to fetch ye for the evening meal. Missingoneof Flora’s meals might be considered brave but missing two of them? That would be suicidal.”
Charlie laughed. “Best not keep her waiting then.”
Giving the kiln one last check to ensure it was heating up nicely, she followed Niall as they began walking back towards Glennoch.
***
NIALL FOUND HIMSELFenjoying the walk back to the manor house with Charlotte. There was an easy companionship between them and the usual pressure he felt to be whatever his companion needed him to be, was gone. With Charlotte he was more himself than with anyone save perhaps Joseph and Flora. It was...refreshing.
