“At another time?” He eyed her for a moment, then shook his head. “Ye see? That answer is exactly what I mean. What do ye mean byat another time?”
“I canna help it,” she fired back. “It is all I know to say.” Weariness and frustration threatened to undo her. She should not have come down here. She sagged back against the windowsill and buried her face in her hands. “I dinna ken what is to become of me,” she whispered, more to herself than him.
“Ye have a home here, mistress,” he said just as quietly. He moved closer, so near that his heat reached out and embraced her. “For as long as ye need it. I dinna make it a habit of ousting the needy from Thursa.”
“Could ye please just call me Lorna instead ofmistress? Just plain Lorna.” She lifted her head and met his gaze. “I am not used to all these titles and such, and it just doesna sound right when ye say it.”
“I dinna wish to be disrespectful.” He gave her a lopsided grin, then appeared to be studying her. “Ye need a dram, I think. In the worst way.”
After pulling in a deep breath and letting it go, she found the strength to return his smile. “That would be lovely, Chieftain Sinclair.”
“Gunn,” he corrected her as he turned and headed toward a cabinet loaded down with decanters.
“Beg pardon?”
“Gunn,” he repeated as he filled a pair of round-bellied glasses with an unmistakable golden liquid. “’Tis my Christian name. My mother was from Clan Gunn.” As he handed her a drink, he lifted his in a toast. “If I am to address ye as Lorna, then ye should address me as Gunn.”
“Will that not upset everyone else?” She sipped the whisky and breathed it in to increase its heady richness across her tongue. After the day she had, the water of life hit the spot.
“I am chieftain. If I say it is so, then it is so.Everyone else, as ye put it, will adjust accordingly.”
“And what about yer betrothed?” Lorna knew that Lady Murdina would unravel at the seams when she heard her future husband addressed by his first name by someone other than herself. Not that Lorna cared, but she didn’t want innocent folk caught in the crossfire.
“Lady Murdina is not my betrothed just yet. We must reach an accord before that happens. If we canna foresee a bearable alliance in thirty days, the agreement becomes null, and there will be no union.”
As the whisky warmed her, it also loosened her tongue and made her braver. “Which brings me to my next question—why the devil would ye even think about marrying that woman? She is a hateful cow.”
All joviality left him. A quiet somberness took its place. “My reasons are my own, lass, and I prefer not to share them. They are quite practical, I assure ye.” After fetching the decanter, he joined her at the windowsill and leaned back against it beside her. He held the whisky higher and arched a brow. “More?”
“Aye.” She held out her glass. “But no more after this one. I have not eaten today and already had a sip of mulled wine. I dinna want to get silly.”
“Did Ebby not bring ye any food?” A concerned frown furrowed his compelling features as he poured a generous amount.
“She did. But at the time, I didna think I could keep it down. It has been a verra troubling day.” There was no other way to describe all that had happened. And she feared if she went into too much detail, he would either have her locked up for madness or torched for being a witch. “Ebby is verra sweet. Thank ye for assigning her to me.” She huffed a bitter laugh. “Although I may have run her off. She ran like her skirts were on fire when I started asking questions about ye.”
That made him smile and reveal a dimple that was almost hidden by his neatly trimmed beard. “Mrs. Thistlewick keeps a strict rule in place with all the servants. They are not to repeat details about me or my daughter.”
“I figured as much.” She sipped the whisky, breathing it in again to draw its heat deeper. “A good rule, actually. Gossip can be a verra dangerous thing.”
“Aye, it can.”
She became increasingly aware that the windowsill seemed much smaller with him in it with her. He brushed against her every time he topped off her glass, appearing oblivious to the fact that the rock-hardness of his muscles pressed against her. Not that she minded. In fact, she rather enjoyed it. He gave off a pleasant warmth and somehow smelled better than the other males she had encountered so far. His manly scent reminded her of warm gingerbread.
She leaned closer and inhaled deeply. “Ye smell verra nice too, by the way.”
He chuckled. “Thank ye, mistress.”
“Lorna. Remember?” She held out her glass again. “Just this one more, and then that is it.” It had been a terrible failure of a day, and she deserved as much whisky as she wished. But she needed to keep her wits about her.
The look he gave her sent more warmth racing through her than any swallow of whisky ever could. “Ye can have as much as ye like, lass.” Before filling her glass, he rose, caught hold of her wrist, and tugged her along behind him. “But let us move to the couch, aye? More comfortable.”
She allowed him to lead her to the sofa angled in front of the hearth. A contented sigh slipped free of her as she sank into the upholstered cushions and wiggled her rear like a hen settling into her nest. “Aye, this is much nicer than that cold, hard seat at the window.” With the crackling fire to her right, and the warmth of the whisky soaking through her, she found herself relaxing to the point of being boneless. And friendly. And not giving a rat’s arse about a single worry in the world. A fleeting notion that maybe whisky had been a poor decision crossed her mind as a jaw-cracking yawn escaped her. She hurried to cover her mouth and blinked hard to force her eyes to stay open. “Oh dear. Forgive me. I am so sorry.”
Gunn settled down beside her and filled her drink to overflowing. “Ye have nothing to apologize for. I ken ye have had a trying day. The coachman told Jasper about finding ye in the snow. How long had ye been wandering in the storm?”
She took a hearty sip, then lifted her glass and admired the flickering firelight through the golden liquid. “Seemed like forever walking in that snow. Never made it to Hook’s Cafe.” She finished the drink and held out it out again. “Just this one more, aye?”
“Aye, lass, just this one more.” With a smile that deepened his irresistible dimple, he sloshed another generous dram into her glass.
