Page 42 of Fire in his Highland Heart

The cooks and servants had raised an eyebrow at his request for a simple dinner in the library, but obeyed him nonetheless. It wasn’t often he ate in the library, seeing as it was a room of treasures he really preferred to keep clean. But Arguen was worth it, and he could tell how much she’d liked the library when staying here to nurse Mirellain back to health.

His daughter regained strength every day. He still did not allow her to play with the other children yet, as a precaution, but the four-year-old seemed content to have Patsy read to her or play dolls with her outside. She’d been asking all day when the “angel” was supposed to arrive, and Blake always had to suppress a smile. He grew anxious as the evening approached, wondering if she might suddenly decide not to see him again, but he convinced himself that was impossible. The way she’d looked at him after she kissed him was proof enough—she’d batted her bright blue eyes slowly and looked up at him in wonder, as if she’d just awoken from a good dream. He longed to see that look on her face again, and perhaps have her make other such similar faces as he kissed her cheeks, her neck, her breasts...he cleared his own throat and felt himself redden at such thoughts. Arguen was a reputable young woman and accomplished healer, not a tavern whore for dirty thoughts. She deserved better.

He’d instructed James to wait for her around the castle to usher her in another way—the raising of the iron gate in the very front was rather conspicuous, but he didn’t want to have her smuggled in through the kitchens—would that not seem like an insult? So he had James wait for her outside so that he could bring her in through the side door facing the garden.

It was just dinner, he reminded himself. Just a dinner to thank her for saving Mirellain.

There was no need to overthink things.

* * *

Arguen arrived at the castle just as dusk began to fall. She’d brought a basket of herbs from the garden with her, thinking it would be rude to arrive empty-handed. They were for Mirellain, to help her gain her strength, and for Blake, to help him sleep well. He had not said as much, but she imagined running a castle, watching over one’s people, and raising a daughter recovering from a usually fatal sickness weighed heavily on the mind.

As she approached the stone castle, lit by lanterns spread out in various places, she heard James’s voice. “Och, yer here then,” he said, as if she were an old friend he’d been expecting.

“Aye. An’ what’re ye doin, all mischievous out here?” she asked.

“I’m tae escort ye tae the library,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I ken me way ‘round,” Arguen protested. “’Twas a decent thing tae do, though.”

James shook his head. “Nay, Blake doesnae want ye goin’ through the kitchens. Says it feels like yer sneakin’ in, an’ ye shouldnae feel like contraband.”

Arguen cocked her head. “An’ havin’ ye meet me out here tae lead me in another way is...not smuggling?”

He gave a wry smile, half hidden by the shadows of the lanterns on the wall. “I dinnae question everything he does. But follow me, this way.”

James led her through the tall green grass to another side of the castle that she hadn’t yet seen, and realized she was seeing the gardens for the first time. It was a sight indeed to a healer. Even though it looked as though it were mostly for entertainment, seeing so many beautiful plants in one place lightened her heart. There were clean cut hedges of varying heights, interspersed between clear patches of grass and dirt or beds of flowers. There were even a few trellises with roses on them—large pink ones that she might have called English roses if she did not know better. There was an area with a small, half-moon brick wall around it, facing the rest of the garden, with ivy growing all over it. A wooden bench was backed against the wall, and it provided a nice little look out into the rest of the garden. Arguen knew it was not like the stately gardens of France, Italy, or even England that she’d seen in some of the library books, but it was more than Bruckstone Castle had.

“I wasnae aware the laird had a preference for fine gardening,” Arguen remarked, genuinely surprised.

James stood next to her, arms crossed over his chest. “Aye, ‘twasn’t his idea. His late wife wanted it. Said she wanted tae create some sense of order for herself.”

Arguen nodded. “’Tis very well kept. He’s honored her memory well.”

The two of them surveyed the garden for a few moments more until Arguen had her fill, and James took her inside. There was a small door in the side of the castle for easy access to the garden. It led into a wing of the castle Arguen had not often seen, but apparently it was simply extra bedchambers according to James. He took her up the winding stone staircase at the end of the corridor to another corridor, which she immediately recognized. This was where Mirellain’s chamber was, where the library was, where his study was...this was familiar.

“Ye ken where the library is, aye?” James asked.

“Aye,” she answered. “What’ll ye do this evening?”

He gave that crooked smile again. “I am goin’ tae a tavern tae have a pint or several, an’ see if I can find a pretty lass. An’ then...”

Arguen waved him off. “I dinnae wanna hear that. Go have yer fun,” she said, and he went back down the staircase, chuckling.

When he was gone, she took a deep breath and walked toward the library. As she approached the heavy door, she could hear voices behind it. The door was not completely closed, allowing Arguen a quick peek first. Blake sat in one of the armchairs by the hearth, with Mirellain in her nightclothes on his lap. He was reading something to her—perhaps another play from Mr. Shakespeare—as he switched between different voices each time. Mirellain would follow along with the words—she could read a few, Arguen had learned—but mostly she looked up at her father adoringly as he read.

She hated to interrupt such a sweet domestic scene. They were clearly at peace, enjoying themselves. Surely they would not want an odd looking silver haired woman to interrupt this time.

Alas, fate had other ideas. Arguen dropped her basket at that moment, and let out a quiet little curse. Apparently, it wasn’t quiet enough. Blake heard, and he stopped reading.

“Is someone there?” she heard him ask beyond the door. She hastily picked up her gifts and put them back in the basket.

When they were all replenished, Arguen stood up and smoothed out her petticoat. “Aye...though I hate tae interrupt,” she said, still not opening the door.

“Nay, dinnae be afraid. Come in,” Blake said.

When Arguen pushed open the door, Blake’s expression quickly melted from the fatherly love she’d seen a minute ago, into that of a blushing and gaping schoolboy.