The gesture warmed him.
He positioned her to his left so he could better shield her prized possession. Up until they returned to the castle, he did not let go of her hand.
Adair hovered by the door, stunned by the sight.
When he had come to the library to retrieve the missives Fergus had forgotten to bring to his study, he hadn’t expected to find Emily in a simple nightrobe, one leg crossed over the other, a book spread open in her lap.
“I didnae expect to find ye here.”
She started, her head whipping around, her eyes wide. It must have been a captivating read.
“Have ye been looking for me?”
“Allow me to correct meself.” He stepped into the room, not expecting the click of the door to sound like the bolts of a prison cell. “I didnae expect to find a soul in here.”
“Is it wrong of me to be here?” she asked with an anxious look. She lowered her legs to the floor, ready to make an exit.
She could not invade his personal space. It was not allowed, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
“I daenae mind ye being here.”
And he found that he meant it.
She had looked comfortable in the armchair as she read. Her soft, feminine scent filled the room, but not in an unpleasant way. It was almost calming.
He stepped toward her. He told himself he only drew close to grab the letters on the low table opposite her, even though the adjacent chair looked invitingly warm. When he leaned over the table, he caught the title of the book she’d lifted to her face.A Lady’s Guide to Being, Second edition.
He abandoned the letters.
“Ye are very thorough… Emily.”
Her face scrunched up in confusion, and he nodded at the spine in explanation. Her fingers traced the words as though she was only seeing them for the first time, then shifted in an unladylike way that he was well aware the first edition warned against.
She shrugged. “I am very practical, me Laird.”
So she is aware she lacks the airs of a highborn lady.
Adair smiled wryly.
He knew he should bid her good night and leave with the letters, but he was impelled by a greater power, a boyish mischievousness that tempted him to tease her.
“Ye daenae need to read that, lass.”
He was close enough to tip the pointed edge of the book. It fell on her chest, where it remained until she inhaled, then on her stomach.
Her brow furrowed. She looked sensible, no longer the meek woman unable to meet his eyes. He was curious to know what other facets this sensible, usually meek woman had.
“Ye arenae truly me betrothed,” he reminded her.
“Aye, but I am nae studying because of that.” She picked up the book and gave him a mischievous look that indicated she was teasing him, before she casually flipped a page. He felt caught in his own trap. “I would like to prepare for the occasion when another laird chooses to marry me.”
His jaw ticked. He would like to see the laird who would dare do it.
Years of practice proved futile, as he was not able to mask his emotions. He asked with more belligerence than he had expected, “Which laird would that be?”
“I daenae ken yet.” Her eyes lifted slowly and met his. “I have only met one.”
Instantly, his anger dissipated. His chest expanded as he sucked in a deep breath.
