She blanched. “Nay, I have what they call a black thumb.”
He tilted his head, not knowing the term. “A what?”
“A black thumb. It means I kill everythin’ I touch. It’s ironic, given I’m a healer,” she sighed, and Fergus barked out a laugh, surprised at himself. She smiled at him. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard ye laugh.”
“Daenae let it go to yer head,” he teased.
Jeane had a small, secret smile the rest of the walk, and Fergus could not fault her for it.
Ithadbeen a long time since he had laughed or even smiled other than with a smirk or a snarl. Years.
He wanted her for his own, but who could ever care for a beast like him? A monster? He could not act on his feelings, despite how she would put her small hand in his, which made him laugh, brightening up his life.
If he pushed her any further, she might run like she had threatened to do, so Fergus found himself in a conundrum.
She had asked him to find her a husband. Would he really have to go through that kind of torture? Would the Lord really ask that of him? He could not imagine her inviting suitors over to the castle as if he did not care, as if it did not set him on fire to imagine her with another man.
His fists tightened just thinking about it, and Jeane stood after gathering some daisies, looking up at him with a concerned expression.
“Fergus? Are ye all right?”
“Fine,” he barked, turning back toward the castle. “I just cannae spend any more time in these woods. I have a castle to run, ye ken.”
He was being rude to her, but he could not seem to help himself.
Jeane nodded. “Aye, Me Laird. I’m sorry to have bothered ye,” she said flatly, and Fergus’ heart dropped into his stomach.
He hated this. He hated that his mood depended on hers, on every look she gave him, every smile she decided to shoot his way.
“Ye didnae bother me,” he muttered and took her hand again, enveloping her small fingers with his own.
She gave him that small smile again, and they walked hand-in-hand back through the gardens and into the back of the castle.
Fergus let his hand linger on hers when she pulled away, heading up the stairs to Lottie’s room. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching her go, his heart aching.
A woman so wonderful would never love a monster like him.
Jeane headed up to Lottie’s room, and for once, Lottie’s door was closed. Jeane could hear Lottie’s giggles and a man’s sharp intake of breath, so she knocked briskly on the door, having a pretty good idea of what the two young people were up to.
She could hear them shifting around, and finally, Lottie pulled open the door, her cheeks flushed red.
Aiden cleared his throat as he left Lottie’s room, pushing past the two women and hurrying down the hallway.
Jeane looked at Lottie with raised eyebrows, and Lottie reached out, grabbing her by the fabric of her dress and pulling her inside. She had started to get out of bed now and again, sometimes going to the sun room, sometimes just walking around her room.
It was making her stronger. Jeane would have nothing but good news when she next updated Fergus.
“Pleasedaenae tell Fergus that we were in here with the door closed,” she pleaded. “That’s really his only rule.”
Jeane smiled. “Tell me ye werenae doing anythin’ but kissin’.”
“That’s all, I swear,” Lottie said quickly. “I willnae even let him put his tongue in me mouth.”
Jeane giggled, suddenly feeling young and free in this girlish conversation with Lottie. She had been upset about Fergus’ hot and cold behavior in the woods, but Lottie made her smile.
Jeane used to feel stupid and small and too prudish when her girlfriends would talk about boys. But now, she had a smidgen of experience, thanks to Fergus.
Not that she would tell Lottie that. They had become fast friends, but she had a feeling Lottie would not like to hear about her brother’s escapades.
