Emily stepped back to allow the Laird to attend to it, but he didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on her, surprising her.
“Handle it, Fergus,” he answered with an annoyed look.
Fergus took a wary step forward. “I’m sorry, me Laird, but the man asked for ye specifically.”
The Laird turned to him then with a hard look. “Then have him wait.” His tone brooked no argument.
Emily gave Fergus an apologetic look.
“As ye command, me Laird,” he said, bowing his head. But before he left, he spared a glance at her. She didn’t move until the door closed behind him.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Emily didn’t know whether moving would annoy the Laird, so she stood still with the tape in her hands.
“Continue,” he said suddenly.
“Aye, me Laird,” she squeaked, nodding.
She stepped closer, and the tape trembled in her hands as she moved behind him to measure his back.
She lifted it again across his frame, grateful he couldn’t see her, and secretly admired his muscles and strength. His broad shoulders were warm to the touch. She had not thought much about men’s bodies before, but he had an attractive back.
“Ye are very quiet for a knitter,” he commented, startling her out of her salacious thoughts.
Emily didn’t know why she suddenly found it hard to maintain her composure around this man when she prided herself on her ability to keep her reactions in check.
“I daenae think knitters are ken for their conversational skills, me Laird,” she answered after a pause.
“Ye think wrong,” he said, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “The last one wouldnae stop talking.”
Taking a page out of his book, she kept her tone light as well.
“Then perhaps ye are pleased to be rid of her,” she joked, moving in front of him to note down the figures.
“Perhaps I am,” he muttered.
Her eyes met his, and she found herself trapped in his warm gaze. If anyone walked in now, she would be scolded for taking such liberties with the Laird. But how could she be blamed when he had such lovely eyes that stirred fragments of her strongest memory?
She cleared her throat and averted her gaze, moving to his arm again.
“Havenae ye measured me arms already?” he murmured, causing her cheeks to redden again.
She tried to take a step back, but heavy footsteps crossed the stone floor behind her.
Has someone been here all this time?
Emily turned and found herself face to face with a tall grey deerhound. Her eyes widened, for his muzzle was nearly level with her chest, and she wasn’t slight of height.
She froze, not daring to move.
The Laird looked behind her and spoke softly, “Stand still, lass. He doesnae like strangers. I will call him off.”
But before he could, the dog lowered his heavy head and rested it gently against her arm, leaning his weight against her as though he had known her all his life.
Emily turned to look at the Laird. “What shall I do, me Laird? Shall I pet him?”
He looked as stunned as she felt. “He doesnae normally accept people so readily, but I think it should be fine,” he said after a long minute.
