Jeane stared at him for a moment longer and then shut her mouth with a click before she spoke again.
“I willnae run off alone again,” she mumbled.
Fergus grabbed her chin in one hand, forcing her eyes up to his.
“Ye promise?”
She blinked up at him. “Aye. I promise.”
He stood there for a moment, looking at her pretty face, and then he nodded, satisfied, dropping her chin.
“Good. Because it’s either I come with ye, or ye daenae leave the castle.”
“Lovely as always,” Jeane drawled, and Fergus knew she was angry. She was beautiful when she was furious, though, so he did not mind much.
What was she angry about exactly? The fox? His worry about her well-being?
Or perhaps she was just angry that she was trapped here with a monster of a man like him.
The thought put Fergus in a foul mood, and he turned to walk away.
“Fergus? I mean… Me Laird?”
“Ye can always call me by me name,” he said, more brusquely than he would intended.
“Aye,” she said softly. “Then Fergus? Would ye like to join me for a walk?”
Fergus thought for a moment. He had nothing that needed to be done right this second, so he supposed he had some free time.
Or what passed for free time while he was running a castle.
“Aye,” he said, and shockingly, Jeane reached up and took his hand.
While he stood there, flabbergasted by her sudden touch, Jeane picked up the basket with her other hand and started into the garden. Fergus followed. He thought maybe he would follow her to hell if she asked him.
“The gardens are beautiful,” Jeane said, her brown eyes wide as she looked around.
“They were me mother’s.”
“She liked flowers?”
“She liked everythin’ that grows. Even the deadly things.”
Jeane hummed. “I noticed she had a fondness for foxglove. It’s poisonous but beautiful.”
“Like some people,” Fergus muttered, and Jeane looked over at him curiously.
“Have ye known anyone poisonous and beautiful?”
“Aye,” he answered, not wanting to get into it.
She looked over at him with that curious gaze of hers for a moment longer and then squealed, rushing over to a clearing full of daisies and picking several.
“I think Lottie would like some fresh flowers for her room.”
“Aye, I’m sure she would,” Fergus said, watching her fondly. She seemed so excited every time she found a new flower bed or herb garden.
“What about ye? Do ye plant things in yer father’s gardens?”
