Page 32 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Why would ye respect it?"

"Because I'm honorable. Patient. Willing tae wait fer what I want." His voice roughened again. "And because when we finally dae come taegether as husband and wife, it'll be that much sweeter fer the anticipation."

By all the saints, how daes he make everything sound so…provocative?

"Pet names." He leaned forward. "What dae I call ye in private?"

"Maighread?"

"Too formal. Lovers have endearments." He studied her face. "Mo ghràdh? Too obvious. Mo chridhe? Too serious." His smile turned soft. "What about 'lass'? I already call ye that naturally."

"Lass works." Her heart hammered stupidly. "And what dae I call ye?"

"Whatever comes naturally. Though I'm partial tae 'handsome bastard' or 'insufferable man.'"

Despite everything, she laughed. "Those aren't endearments."

"Aren't they? Sounded affectionate tae me." He grinned. "All right. Let's test the full story. I'll ask questions, ye answer. Ready?"

"We have the bones of it now," he said. "The rest will come naturally as we live it. Small details we add as needed."

She nodded, suddenly aware of how long they'd been alone together. How close they were sitting. How his presence filled the small chamber.

"We should join the others fer supper," she said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Before people start gossiping about where we've been."

"Let them gossip. Gives credence tae our story." But he stood, offering his hand to help her to her feet.

She took it, the contact sending warmth up her arm. When she was standing, he didn't immediately release her hand. Their fingers remained loosely linked for a moment longer than necessary.

"Maighread?" His thumb brushed her knuckles once, briefly.

"Aye?"

"We'll make this work. Whatever it takes."

The quiet conviction in his voice made something shift in her chest. "I ken we will." She squeezed his hand. "Now come."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

They'd moved to the solar afterward, ostensibly to review some clan documents but mostly to maintain the appearance of spending time together. The room was warmer, more comfortable, with windows overlooking the courtyard and an open door that made their presence appropriately visible.

Tavish had just started to relax—dangerously so—when he heard the footsteps. Small, rapid, multiple sets. His entire body tensed.

Children.

"Dae ye hear—" he started, but it was too late.

Three of them burst through the doorway. Two girls and a boy, none older than eight, faces flushed from running. They skidded to a halt when they spotted him and Maighread standing close together.

"Lady Maighread!" the older girl gasped. "We've been looking everywhere fer ye!"

Maighread's hand slipped from his, though she smiled warmly at the bairns. "What's wrong, Ailsa? Has something happened?"

"Nay, naething's wrong." The girl's attention fixed on Tavish, eyes going wide. "Is he yer betrothed?"

Tavish fought the urge to bolt from the room.

Children terrified him in ways armed men never had. They asked impossible questions with absolute innocence. Expected answers he didn't know how to give. Looked at him with trust he hadn't earned and didn't deserve.