Delphine’s scrutiny didn’t even fluster her anymore.
But somehow, when Thomas watched her, Emma found herself making mistakes. She’d slop the mixtures over the side of theirearthenware dishes or spill boiling water when she was trying to pour out a tea. It made her dislike him even more.
Or rather, it made herwantto dislike him even more.
He would have been easier to dislike if he hadn’t been such an effective laird. He squeezed taxes from the rich and eased the burden on the poor. He managed the Keep politics with ease and kept up good relationships with the surrounding clans.
He was a good man, everyone said. People whispered about when he’d marry, and clan lairds had sent their daughters and nieces over to meet him. Laird MacPherson had charmed them all and sent them home fluttering and excited. Nothing had come of it, of course, but he had managed to smooth over any ill feeling afterward.
“Dinnae call me that,” Emma said sharply.
“Call ye what?Butterfly?”
“Aye, that. And what do ye want?”
Thomas folded his arms, grinning. Emma couldn’t help but feel that she’d misspoken. She often felt like that around him.
“Is that how ye talk to all of yer patients, Emma?”
She clenched her teeth. It was tempting to hurl the pestle and mortar at him, but she refrained.
She couldn’t crack another one. Delphine would kill her.
“Fine,” she said tightly. “How may I help ye today, Me Laird?”
“That’s much better. Mind if I sit?”
Without waiting for a reply, Thomas hooked his foot around the leg of a rickety old chair, deftly whisking it towards him and facing Emma. He took a seat, unfolding long and strong legs.
It couldn’t be denied that he was a handsome man. There was a reason that just about every laird’s daughter, sister, or niece dreamt of marrying him, and the reason was currently smirking at Emma right now.
Thomas MacPherson was tall and slim but deceptively strong. His hair was a glossy black, and black brows framed startlingly light green eyes. His face had a vulpine look, with his long, pointed nose, sharp chin, and crafty smile. There was something about him that attracted women like magnets.
Not Emma, though. Of course, not Emma.
He didn’t respond immediately, and Emma leaned forward, resting her hands on the stone table.
“Nae to be rude, Me Laird, but I dinnae have all day.”
He only chuckled, picking at his fingernails. “Aye, ye certainly look busy.”
“I am busy!”
“Ye are back early.”
She flushed. It was on the tip of Emma’s tongue to retort that she was only back early because Delphine was tired and needed to come home. She quickly bit back the words. It wouldn’t do to reveal just how old and frail Delphine was getting.
She didn’t believe that Thomas would turn Delphine out of the Keep, but… well, better to stay quiet about it all.
He narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his head to one side.
“That’s it? Nay sharp comeback? Nay witch’s curse?”
“For the last time, Me Laird, I am not a witch. We’re healers.”
“Aye, green-fingered through and through. I need something for a headache. It’s been plaguing me all day.”
His request, when it came, startled her a little. This happened more often than Emma would like. She’d get so caught up in arguing with the infuriating man she tended to forget that theywere laird and healer. So, when he finally told her what he wanted, it was almost jarring.
