What were two more days of chaos?
“Fine,” she gritted out. “But ye’re sleepin’ on the floor of the sittin’ room. And if ye so much aslookat me wrong, I’ll?—”
“Ye’ll what?” Noah leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. “Throw me in me own dungeons?”
“I’ll find somethin’ worse,” Ava promised, meeting his dark eyes without flinching. “Trust me.”
For a moment, she was lost in his eyes; they stood close enough that Ava could see flecks of amber in his dark eyes, could smell leather and horse and something else that was distinctly... him.
Then Noah straightened, a strange expression crossing his face. “I daenae doubt it for a second, lass.”
And Ava had the sudden, unsettling feeling that she’d just made a deal with the devil himself.
CHAPTER FIVE
“This is it.”
Ava gestured to the small cottage that had been her home for the past three years, acutely aware of how rundown it probably looked to a laird who lived in a castle.
The thatched roof needed repairs, the whitewash on the walls was peeling in places, and the entire structure was barely larger than what she imagined his bedchamber alone must be.
Noah surveyed it without comment, though his eyebrow rose slightly.
“It’s cheap,” Ava said, pushing open the door. “Which is all I can afford on a tavern maid’s wages.”
The inside was just as simple as the outside—a small sitting room with a worn-out couch and a single chair, a kitchen barely big enough to turn around in, and a bedroom that could kindlybe called “snug.” But it was clean, and it was hers, and she’d be damned if she’d apologize for it.
“Right then.” She turned to face Noah, who seemed to take up an enormous amount of space in her small sitting room. “Esther will sleep with me in the bedroom. Ye’ll be on the floor here.”
She waited for the protest. For the outrage. Surely a laird wasn’t accustomed to sleeping on floors like some common?—
“Fine.”
Ava blinked. “What?”
“I said fine.” Noah was already unbuckling his sword belt. “I’ve slept in worse places durin’ clan disputes. At least yer floor appears clean.”
“I... ye...” Ava’s mouth opened and closed.
She’d been fully prepared for an argument, had already marshaled her defenses about how this washerhouse, and he was lucky she was letting him stay at all. “Ye’re nae goin’ to complain?”
“What would be the point?” He set his sword carefully against the wall. “Ye’ve already made yer position clear. And I’m nae so soft that I cannae sleep on a floor for two nights.” He glanced at her, something that might have been amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Did yewantme to complain, Miss Harris?”
“Nay! I just...” she caught herself. “I expected ye to be more... difficult.”
“I’m only difficult when people are bein’ unreasonable.” He looked pointedly at her. “Yer terms are perfectly reasonable given the circumstances.”
Ava wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed that he was being so accommodating. She settled for suspicious.
“I’ll get ye a blanket,” she muttered, heading toward the small chest where she kept her spare linens. “And a pillow, I suppose.”
“Much obliged.”
By the time she’d set up his makeshift bed—and honestly, calling it a bed was a stretch; it was just a thin blanket on a hard floor—Esther was nearly falling asleep on her feet. The poor thing had been through so much in the past few days.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Ava took Esther’s hand. “Let’s get ye into a proper bed, aye?”
Esther nodded sleepily, then hesitated, looking at Noah.
