“Truly? Madeline’s cat attempted to murder you?”
“Somewhat.”
Fox looked her up and down. “I must be honest, you do not appearsomewhatmurdered at the moment.”
He grinned at that, deepening the fan of lines bracketing his eyes into sunrays. Leah blinked at their brightness.
“Nae,” she laughed, thrilling to his teasing. “I awoke tae find Mr. Dandy sitting on my chest, staring down at me as if I were about tae be breakfast.”
They both turned to look at the miscreant cat.
For his part, Mr. Dandy flicked his tail and leisurely sauntered about the room, as if surveying property that would soon belong to him exclusively.
Fox lifted his gaze to Leah’s, grinning still.
Their eyes held, the moment stretching, the silence a deafening roar around them.
“I do have one question.” He cleared his throat. “Is there any particular reason why you are attempting to strangle one of my shirts?” His eyes dropped meaningfully to the linen still clutched in her fists.
Leah followed his eyes, staring in mild horror at the fabric.
“Oh!” she breathed. “Uhm . . . well—”
“Mr. Dandy!” Madeline’s piping voice yelped from the door to the Laird’s Lug.
For the third time in as many minutes, Leah jumped.
“You are behaving sooooo wretchedly!” Madeline raced forward, hands outstretched.
Mr. Dandy, wisely, bolted.
Fox looped an arm around Madeline’s waist before she crossed even halfway through the room.
“Not so fast, my girl. Your hidey-hole has been discovered.”
Madeline grinned, twisting in his arms. “Mr. Dandy found it, not me.”
“No more chasing after that dratted cat.” Fox casually threw the girl over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the wee lass giggling and calling for Mr. Dandy. “Back to the nursery with you.”
He saluted Leah and took his charge out the door, his long legs eating up the space, Madeline’s laughter trailing after them.
Leah stared at the empty door, savoring the sound even as it drifted away. She hated that she was outside that laughter, that she existed on its periphery.
She glanced back down at Fox’s shirt, now crumpled and wrinkled.
It still smelled of sandalwood and leather and man.
She meant to set the shirt back on the chair before the hearth. Truly she did.
But, somehow, it remained in her hand right until the moment she slipped it under her pillow.
14
Begging your pardon, Captain, but we have a situation,” William said from the library doorway.
Fox looked up from the book he was reading . . . ehr, attempting to read. Mostly, he was summoning the energy to reply to the letters piling up from his solicitor while, simultaneously, distracting his thoughts from the full decanter of whisky on the sideboard.
“Situation?” Fox’s thoughts immediately went to the most likely source. “Is it Madeline?”
