The Laird and Fergus were standing by a large desk at the far end of the room, close to the window that cast soft light over them.
“This is Emily, me Laird,” Mrs. Donnelly introduced, and Emily curtsied. “She has been tasked with making yer new garments. Emily, I will leave ye to finish here. Ye may return to the morning room when ye’re done.”
“Aye, Mrs. Donnelly,” Emily answered.
“I will take me leave as well, me Laird,” Fergus said, and stepped out after Mrs. Donnelly.
Emily’s heart thudded at being alone with the Laird, but she forced herself to be calm and take out what she would need from her pockets.
“Where do ye want me?” he asked suddenly, startling her.
“Right there is fine, me Laird,” she answered, turning to face him.
He nodded, and she moved closer.
She lifted her eyes to his again and found herself enraptured by those hazel depths. They were warm and so comforting that all her earlier anxieties melted away.
“What is it?” the Laird asked, looking down at her.
She averted her gaze. It wasn’t in any way proper for a servant to look directly at the Laird.
“Nothing, me Laird,” she answered quickly.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the tape to his shoulders, and she saw his lips dip in a frown.
Oh nay. I have displeased him with me hesitation.
Squaring her shoulders, she moved more decisively, placing the tape more firmly against his frame. She was wholly unprepared for the heat that raced up her arms at the contact.
Her breath hitched in her chest, surprise filling her when he stiffened as well. She didn’t risk looking up at him but continued to take his measurements, swallowing as the heat of his body seeped through her dress.
Her fingertips tingled where she touched him, the sensation strange and fascinating. Despite his clothes, she felt as though she were touching a furnace.
His proximity allowed his scent to wrap around her. He smelled like the outdoors: dew and freshly cut grass and something rich that made her want to inhale deeper.
She still couldn’t understand why she was acutely aware of him when she didn’t even know anything about him.
“How long have ye worked here?” he asked suddenly, and the rumble of his voice through his chest almost caused her to drop the tape.
She realized then just how intimate their position was, alone in his chambers with her hands roaming over his body. If he were a less honorable man, he would have ravished her, and she would have been powerless to stop him.
She pushed the scandalous thought away, though her cheeks reddened.
Clearing her throat, she answered, “I just arrived, me Laird.”
He nodded, and she resumed her work in silence.
When she measured his arms, she bit her lip, her mouth going dry. His arms were muscular and spoke of a strength that both scared and reassured her.
Fergus had mentioned him yesterday when she had arrived, and she had found herself curious to meet the laird who inspired such obedience in his men even in his absence. She had expectedhim to be old, but the man before her was younger than she had thought.
And there was the matter of his eyes. A warm hazel that pulled her in and assured her that she was safe, and indeed she found herself believing that she had nothing to fear.
She wrapped the tape around his biceps, trying to ignore how he stiffened underneath her touch. Was he perhaps feeling the same sparks that spread across her skin wherever they touched?
“Ye—” He broke off when the door suddenly opened and Fergus entered the chamber.
“Pardon the intrusion, me Laird,” Fergus said quietly, “but there is a matter that requires yer attention.”
