“We’re still on Aylesbury’s land here, are we no’? Do ye lease this house from him?”
A month ago—a week!—the question would have sent her into vapors. The truth wouldn’t matter in a few days more. Even if it put a damper on the night, there were things she needed to tell him if he were to give her such an opening.
“In a manner of speaking…”
Losing her nerve, she tugged off her gloves, and he did the same. She caught his hand and traced a fingertip over the crusty cuts on his knuckles. “I meant to ask last night, how did you learn to fight as you did yesterday? I’ve never seen anyone move like that.”
He grinned at the backward compliment. “It was nae lie I offered Granger at the time. With eight older brothers and nae mother’s skirts to hide behind, I learned early on to be quick. It was my only advantage.”
“I doubt that,” Piper murmured, as Connor walked deeper into the cottage, circling the parlor. The muscles of his back, shoulders, and thighs shifted enticingly beneath his clothes with each step. He moved like a jungle cat on the prowl, true. She’d seen enough to know it wasn’t his sole advantage. Especially against her defenses. “Your mother wouldn’t protect you from them?”
He shrugged as he paced the cottage, taking it all in. Not that there was much to absorb. There was a grand total of three rooms; the parlor, kitchen, and bedroom, besides a small lean-to that had been added to serve as a washroom. Most of the original furniture had been exchanged for pieces taken from the Grange. Either from the attic or from rooms rarely used, even when someone was in residence. As a result, the small room, with its plaster walls and dark beams, took on a more elegant flair than most its size.
She was cognizant, as she’d never been before, how small the room was. The close quarters it forced one into. Alas, she’d never had a man like Connor here.
A man she enjoyed being at close quarters with.
“She died shortly after our sister was born.”
The muted sorrow in his voice brought a pang of sympathy to her heart. Closing the distance until she stood just behind him, Piper touched his arm. “I’m so sorry. How old were you?”
Connor carried on as if he hadn’t felt her touch. “I was five. Ten lads but she had to have a lass. Cannae be bitter about it. Our Heather Blossom was a gift to us all.”
She paused as he rounded the settee to peer more closely at the framed drawings hanging on the wall and waited for his judgment.
He raised a brow in question. “Did ye do these?”
“Yes.”
His brow notched higher, and he nodded with approval as he studied them more thoroughly. “Verra fine work. They rival Currier and Ives.”
“I hardly think so, though I thank you for the compliment.” Warmth crept up her cheeks and Piper suddenly found a frayed knot in the braided rug riveting. Recalling their conversation, she said, “I thought your sister’s name was Fiona.”
“Aye.” He moved on, giving the inspection his full attention, studying the furnishings and absorbing small details. He did cast her a smile, though, his eyes sparkling with humor. “We all came to call her Heather Blossom because she is as prickly as any lass could be.”
He spoke with more affection than the words warranted, and she remembered how Connor had revealed about being his sister’s favorite as one of his virtues.
Continuing around the room, he brushed close by and gestured to the small upright piano crowded into the corner. “Do ye play?”
She nodded. “You adore her.”
“Aye. I do. We all do. She’s a rare corker, obstinate, often reckless, and bloody temperamental. She can put the fear of God into ten grown men wi’ a single glance.” He took a second tour of the room. “As I said once before, ye’d like her.”
She wasn’t sure why but Piper felt there was a compliment mixed up in it all. She’d like to meet his sister someday. Should things change, she would. Fiona was her sister-in-law, after all.
“Do ye have any siblings like that?” He circled to find her immediately behind him. His eyes fell to her mouth. “That drive ye to the edge of frustration and madness?”
Each word in his dogged pursuit for mundane conversation fell in volume until they were a near whisper.
“Actually I…” There was no chance she could speak of a sibling when the only frustration and madness she felt were due to his evasive behavior. “I’ll leave my journey to the edge of madness to you.”
A slow, sensual smile touched his lips. “Will ye, now?”
“You do it so well.”
“Do I?” His head bent until his forehead brushed hers.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed and reached up to loosen his tie. “Did I mention how handsome you look today? I think rather uncomfortable, though?” she added to justify her actions.
