She nodded and reclined against the curved staircase wall. A pink flush covered her chest, neck, and face, and her breathing had grown labored. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was debating whether to dash back down the stairs. She moistened her lips, her gaze seemingly drawn to his mouth.
Perhaps he’d discovered one thing he did correctly. She’d voiced no complaints after their kiss below stairs, and he suspected she wouldn’t protest if he kissed her again. He suppressed a satisfied grin.
Her breath churned a silky strand of silver hair that had escaped from the punishing knot at the back of her nape. She was a pretty lass when she wasn’t yelling at him, not that he’d only noticed now. He’d taken to avoiding her soon after arriving at Aldmist Fell, so no one would notice how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Even wearing matronly gowns and spectacles fit for a grandmother, she couldn’t hide her beauty. Her skin looked as soft as a bairn’s, but she was all woman. She had curves to keep a man happily in her bed every night for the rest of his life.
“Mr. McTaggart.” Her voice was whip-crack sharp and his gaze snapped to her face.
Damnation! He’d been staring like a starving mongrel in a room full of bones. She pursed her lips, which didn’t help redirect his focus.
“I thought the skates were in the attic, sir. This staircase seems to be leading to another part of the castle.”
He offered a sheepish shrug. “There isnae an actual attic at Aldmist Fell. The north tower is used for storage, but asking a lady to the tower has a sinister ring to it.”
She said nothing for a moment, but then a rare smile appeared on her face. “Is this a ruse to take off my head?”
He chuckled, surprised to discover she possessed a sense of humor. “If you promise to leavemyhead intact, you may keep yers, Mistress Gallagher.”
“Very well. That seems like a reasonable compromise.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. Keeping one’s head was merely a compromise? The lass knew how to keep him on his toes. “Are you rested? Should we continue?”
She nodded once then turned to trudge up the stairs with her hand braced against the wall for support. Fergus grinned without restraint. The lass had to know he would be eying her arse the rest of the climb.
When they reached the tower door, Fergus retrieved a ring of keys from his pocket and tried each one until he found the correct fit. The tumbler clicked and the door swung inward, creaking on rusty hinges. A winter gray sky cast little light through the tower windows, but they should still be able to find what they were looking for in the trunks stacked in the center of the chamber.
Mistress Gallagher followed him into the room. With hands on her hips, she shook her head. “A week? This could take more like a month. Christmas will be over and Lady Thorne’s guests will be headed back from where they came before we find those skates.”
Fergus tried to see the mess through her eyes and agreed the task ahead appeared daunting, but he had some idea where the skates were stored. “I’ll wager we will find them before afternoon tea.”
Her eyes sparkled with a touch of playfulness behind her wire spectacles. “What do you wish to wager, Mr. McTaggart?”
“I didnae—” He clamped his mouth closed before he blurted he’d meant it as a figure of speech. A wager could be just what they needed to get to know each other better, and Fergus was interested in learning more about the lass.
He’d given up on having his curiosity satisfied soon after she came to live with Lord and Lady Thorne. Any time he’d asked about her past, she’d changed the subject. Before moving into the Thornes’ home in London to help care for Miss Gracie, Mistress Gallagher had been living the life of an independent woman. She’d shared a home with Helena’s sister in Chelsea and answered to no man. Even stronger than his urge to kiss her, he possessed a desire to know why she had abandoned her independence to help a young girl have a better life.
He rubbed his jaw, noting he’d not done the best job with his morning shave. “What do you suggest the wager should be, mistress?”
“If we don’t find the skates before tea, I want to go on an adventure with you and Gracie. I’ve barely stepped a foot outside the castle since we arrived, and to be completely candid, I am growing restless. I wish to explore the land.”
Fergus rather liked that she wanted to see Aldmist Fell beyond the walls of the castle. As the land steward, Aldmist Fell was his pride and joy. His father had worked the land when Fergus was a lad, and after his father had been laid to rest, the former lord of the estate handed Fergus the responsibility of tending the land. Someday he hoped to have a son of his own to ensure Aldmist Fell continued to flourish.
“I’ll accept that wager,” he said, “and if we find the skates before tea, you will answer three questions about yerself.”
Her gaze turned to ice and he could sense a wall erecting between them. “What could I possibly tell you that you don’t already know, Mr. McTaggart?”
He didn’t want to frighten her away by asking questions of a too personal nature. “I dinna know yer favorite holiday sweet, or if you like ta sing carols, or if you’ve ever been on a sleigh ride.”
“Oh.” She blinked, obviously caught off guard by his harmless inquiry. “Well, I’ve always loved fruited nut cake. I like to sing, although I suspect others would prefer I not since I cannot carry a tune. And I’ve never had the opportunity to go for a sleigh ride.”
He grinned. “See? That wasna difficult.”
“No, I guess it wasn’t.” She smiled, her face softening. “Where should we begin our search?”
“How about over there?” He pointed to a stack of trunks furthest away from where he thought the skates would be found. This was one wager he didn’t mind losing, because he suspected he could sneak in a question or two when they explored Aldmist Fell. And if he couldn’t, he had no doubt Gracie would perform the task for him. Full of curiosity, that lassie was.
He grasped the handles of the top trunk, lowered it to the ground, and popped the lid open. “You start with this one, and I will check the one beneath it.”
Edith swipeda sleeve across her damp forehead. The afternoon light barely penetrated the gloom of the tower chamber, and their chances of finding the skates were fading with the setting sun.
