"Ye cannae just decide that for me."
Ava crossed her arms more tightly, as if the gesture could somehow protect her from the absurd demand this arrogant man was making.
The movement also helped put a barrier, however flimsy, between herself and him.
He stood far too close for comfort, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, and close enough to notice he was a solid wall of muscle and height that seemed to fill all the air in the small kitchen.
She was aware of it in a way that made her skin prickle, though whether from annoyance or something else entirely, she refused to examine.
“Ye cannae just walk in here and expect me to uproot me entire life for a stranger.”
“She’s nae a stranger to ye anymore.” Noah’s voice was maddeningly calm, like he was explaining something simple to a particularly slow child. “Ye’ve been carin’ for her for days. And right now, in this moment, she feels safe with ye. I'd like to keep it that way…”
“Aye, because I didnae terrify her by bargin’ in like some... some barbarian!” Ava could feel heat rising in her cheeks. “And even if she does trust me, that doesnae mean I can just abandon everythin’ I have here!”
“What exactly would ye be abandonin’?” Noah’s eyes swept dismissively around the modest kitchen. “A volunteer position at an underfunded orphanage? Whatever other work ye do to survive?”
“Howdareye belittle that?”
“I’m nae insultin’ ye, lass. I’m bein’ practical.” He took a step closer, and Ava fought the urge to step back. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Ye clearly care about these children. About helpin’ those who cannae help themselves. So let me ask ye this, how much money does this orphanage have in its coffers right now?”
Ava’s jaw clenched. “That’s none of yer business, me Laird.”
“How much, Miss Harris?”
She glared at him. Behind her, she could feel Esther watching both of them with wide, anxious eyes. Mrs. Crawford had made herself scarce, probably wisely deciding that standing between a laird and his temper was beyond her pay grade.
“Barely enough to last the month,” Ava finally admitted, hating how the words felt like defeat. “But I’ve been workin’ extra shifts at the tavern, and I give most of me wages to them.”
“Exactly.” Noah’s expression didn’t soften, but something flickered in his dark eyes. “Ye’re workin’ yerself to exhaustion to keep this place afloat. So here’s what I’m offerin’. Come to Castle MacGregor as Esther’s minder, and I’ll pay ye whatever ye ask. Use that money however ye see fit.”
“I told ye, I’m nae for sale!”
“Nay, ye’re nae.” His voice dropped lower, more intense. “But yertimeis. Everyone’s time has a value. And right now, I’m offerin’ to value yers very highly in exchange for carin’ for a wee lass who desperately needs someone who actually gives a damn about her wellbein’.”
Ava opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. Because damn him, he had a point. A horrible, manipulative, infuriating point.
“Ye’re insufferable,” she said, but the venom had drained from her voice.
“So I’ve been told.” Was that almost a smile tugging at his mouth? No, it couldn’t be. Men carved from granite didn’t smile. “So what’s it goin’ to be, Miss Harris? Are ye goin’ to let yer pride stand in the way of actually helpin’ these children? Or are ye goin’ to be practical?”
Ava looked past him to where Esther stood, her small hands still gripping the chair.
The girl watched Ava with such desperate hope that it made her chest ache. Then she thought about the orphanage—about the leaking roof they couldn’t afford to fix, the thin blankets that barely kept the children warm in winter, and the meals that were getting smaller because supplies were running low.
If I took the Laird’s offer...
“How much are ye willin’ to pay?” The words came out before she could stop them.
Noah’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Name yer price.”
Ava quickly calculated in her head. The tavern paid her barely enough to get by, and she gave half of it to the orphanage. If only she could earn enough to cover her own expenses and have some left over for the children...
“Fifty pounds a year,” she said, lifting her chin. It seemed like an enormous sum to her, nearly double what she made now.
Her heart hammered in her chest. It felt like too much to ask, more than someone like her deserved.
She was just a tavern maid with no family, no connections, and no real skills besides hard work and a stubborn refusal to give up. What made her think she was worth fifty whole pounds?
