“The skates are kept in the attic, but it could take a week to find them searching alone. If you would be so kind as to offer your assistance, I wouldna be opposed.”
Edith’s breath froze in her lungs. She didn’t know if she could speak, so she nodded and was rewarded with an even wider grin from Mr. McTaggart.
She must be out of her mind to follow him to the attic.
Chapter Two
When Mistress Gallagher’s toe caught on one of the stone stairs, she pitched forward, and Fergus caught her around the waist. “Watch your step.”
“I-I am, Mr. McTaggart.”
As she began to ease from his embrace, he tucked her closer against his side. “You might not have fallen this time, lass, but I willna have you getting hurt before Christmas.”
She blinked up at him, her blue eyes magnified behind her spectacles. “And after Christmas?”
“Well, I suppose I cannae allow anything to happen to you after Christmas either,” he replied with a chuckle. “No’ when you’ll be looking over your shoulder now that the element of surprise is gone.”
Her lips pursed briefly as she pushed free of his hold and scrambled up the stairs. He sighed and followed. Her reaction didn’t surprise him; now that Mistress Gallagher was Helena’s paid companion, she outclassed him.
There wasn’t a chance in hell she would welcome the attentions of a lowly servant, not when fortune had elevated her from former brothel maid to company fit for a baroness.
Only the Thornes, Helena’s sisters, and Fergus knew of Mistress Gallagher’s past, and no one was of a mind to reveal her secret, especially when doing so could harm Helena and Miss Gracie.
Mistress Gallagher paused midway up the climb and glanced over her shoulder. “How much further, sir?” She sounded breathless, not accustomed to the same level of activity as he was.
“We’re halfway there, lass. Let’s stop to catch our breath.” He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his trousers as he waited.
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 were debating whether to dash back down the stairs. She wet her lips, her gaze seemingly drawn to his mouth.
Perhaps he’d discovered one thing he did correctly. Kissing. She’d offered no complaints below stairs, and he suspected she wouldn’t protest if he kissed her again. He suppressed a satisfied grin, fearing it would only irritate her and lead to another battle.
Her breath stirred a silky strand of silky 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 had only just noticed.
He’d taken to avoiding her soon after arriving at Aldmist Fell to prevent anyone from seeing how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Even in 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 that could keep a husband 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 again, 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, then a rare smile appeared on her face. “Is this a ruse to take off my head?”
He chuckled, surprised to discover she had a sense of humor. “If you promise to leave my head intact, you may keep yours.”
“Very well,” she said. “That sounds 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, her hand braced against the wall for support. Fergus grinned without restraint. The lass had to know he would be eying her backside for 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 among the trunks stacked in the center of the chamber.
