“Aye, and Miss Harris.” Elliot’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come on. Just say it. Ye want her.”
“She’s me employee.” The words came out flat and certain, because they were true. That was the beginning and end of it.
“Aye, and ye’ve been near combustin’ every time she sits down to dinner.” Elliot tilted his head. “Daenae tell me ye havenae noticed. I’ve seen the way ye look at her mouth when she’s talkin’.”
Noah said nothing, which, he knew, was its own kind of answer.
“See? Ye cannae even say it.” Elliot looked triumphant. “Noah MacGregor, the great Laird who faces down enemy clans without blinkin’, completely undone by a wee village lass.”
“Ye’re enjoyin’ this entirely too much,” Noah muttered.
“Someone has to! Ye’re always so serious, so focused on duty and responsibility. It’s good to see ye interested in someone, for a change.” Elliot’s expression softened slightly. “She’s good for ye.And she’s brilliant with Esther. I havenae seen the lass so happy in... well, ever, honestly.”
That much was true.
In a few days, Ava achieved what two years of various caretakers couldn’t—she made Esther feel safe enough to speak, to laugh, and to be a child.
This morning, Noah had actually heard his niece giggling over breakfast.
And Ava... Ava had defended Esther like a mother lion protecting her cub. Had stood up to him, a laird, without flinching. Had kissed him back in his cottage with a passion that still kept him awake at night.
“I daenae have time for this,” Noah said finally, watching as Ava and Esther moved further down the path. “I have a clan to run, a niece to raise.”
“And a bonnie lass livin’ right next door who clearly affects ye whether ye want to admit it or nae.” Elliot shook his head. “Ye’re allowed to be happy, ye ken. Allowed to want somethin’ for yerself instead of always puttin’ duty first.”
“This conversation is over,” Noah said with finality. “Now get back to countin’. How many have they done?”
“One hundred and eighty-five. But daenae think ye can distract me that easily?—”
“Elliot.”
“I’m just sayin’, if ye fancy the lass, maybe ye should actually do somethin’ about it instead of just broodin’ at her across the dinner table every night?—”
“That’s it.” Noah turned to face him fully. “Ye can join them. Four hundred sword slashes.”
Elliot’s eyes widened. “What? Ye cannae be serious! I was just teasin’ ye!”
“Aye, and now ye’re bein’ punished for it. Four hundred slashes. And if ye keep talkin’, I’ll make it six hundred.”
“But Noah…”
“It’s me Laird, when I’m givin’ ye orders.” Noah’s voice carried the weight of absolute authority. “Now get over there and start swingin’. Maybe it’ll teach ye to keep yer opinions about me personal life to yerself.”
Elliot opened his mouth to protest more, saw Noah’s expression, and wisely shut it again.
“Fine,” he muttered, stomping toward where the guards were still laboring through their slashes. “But it was worth it.”
Noah couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that tugged at his mouth.
“I heard that!” he called after Elliot.
“Meant ye to!” Elliot called back, then raised his voice to address the exhausted guards. “Right, lads, good news and bad news. Good news is ye’ve got company. Bad news is I have to do four hundred slashes because our Laird cannae handle a bit of friendly teasin’ about his obvious attraction to?—”
“Six hundred!” Noah bellowed.
“Still worth it!” Elliot shouted back, but he was grinning as he drew his practice sword.
The guards, sensing a reprieve in their own suffering, actually managed faint smiles. One of them said something to Elliot that Noah couldn’t hear, and his man-at-arms laughed.
