“Too closely,” Maureen said.
“What do ye say, Mr. MacDuff? Are ye willing to allow the young lad to attend to yer daughter? In yer presence, of course,” Katie quickly added when Bernard began to scowl again.
“Aye. I guess it’s a good idea.” He smiled at his daughter, all the love of a da in his face. “I just want her to be happy.”
“Oh, Da.” The girl jumped up and threw herself in her da’s arms. “I do love ye.”
Evan slapped his thighs and stood, anxious to get as far away from family issues as possible. “It appears we have solved that problem.”
Katie smirked at him as she also rose and smoothed out her gown. “Aye, my laird. We have certainly resolved that difficulty.”
Chapter Ten
Amazingly enough, by the time Katie and Evan returned to the castle, all was quiet. ’Twas hard to believe the chaos had settled and no one was racing to the door to greet them with another crisis.
They had managed to visit four tenants, and along the way they had discovered an empty cottage that was perhaps not big enough to comfortably house Archie’s family but at least had three bedrooms. In these times, that was a luxury, to be sure.
They were sitting in the library after having shared a cold dinner of bread, cheese, and a leftover joint. Alasdair had joined them for the meal, returning from his visit to the village to speak with the shopkeepers, but excused himself afterward to visit with MacDuff down at the stables. He loved equine talk and was a true horse lover.
“I’m considering employing two of Archie’s older children, which will remove them from the cottage.” Katie took a sip of her sherry and eyed Evan over the rim of her glass.
Evan sat across from her, his long legs stretched out, his boots crossed at the ankles. His unruly hair hung almost to his shoulders, and she had the urge to brush it back. His linen shirt was open at the neck, a sliver of tan skin and rust-colored curly hair peeked out from the opening. He looked tired, and it occurred to her that his was a difficult job. Being laird to one clan while having been handed the responsibility of another must be daunting.
“’Tis yer job to see to those kind of things.” He swirled his brandy before taking a large swallow.
“Aye.” She was grateful he didn’t naysay her on this. “Ella is about fourteen years and would do well working in the kitchen. She’s a sweet lass, and the extra coin she would bring to her family would help. Charlie has seen sixteen summers, and he would be a fine assistant to MacDuff in the stables.”
Evan nodded. “Good idea. I say tomorrow we move the lot of them into that empty cottage.”
“Ye do understand that there are many more who will be arriving? I had no idea so many tenants had remained here in Fife. I knew the MacDuff held prosperous lands, and apparently the number of tenants who stayed and didn’t take off for Australia or Canada helped keep things profitable.”
Evan studied her as he continued to swirl and sip his brandy. Suddenly, she was aware of the quietness of the house, the darkness of the room they sat in, with one small lamp burning, and the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest. Why did he study her that way?
She licked her lips. “Shall we make more visits tomorrow? It would probably be a good idea to find more empty cottages.”
“Aye.” Nothing more, just the continued swirling and sipping of brandy…and studying of her.
Katie drank the last of her sherry and placed the glass on the small wooden table next to her chair. “I find I am quite peaked. I believe I shall retire.” She stood and moved to go past him when a large, warm hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.
“Nay, stay a while, lass.” He tugged, and she landed on the old, worn settee alongside him.
“Oh.”
“Aye.”
After a few moments of them staring at each other, Evan reached out and cupped her face in his large hand. She shivered at his touch, and surely he heard her heart beating. His skin was dry, warm, and calloused.
“What?” Her word was barely a whisper.
“Something I’ve wanted to do.” Slowly, as if giving her permission to jump and run from the room, he lowered his head until his lips brushed over hers. Softly, tenderly. When she didn’t do anything but stare wide-eyed at him, he chuckled and pulled her close, against his chest, his fingers linked behind her back. “Have ye never been kissed, lass?” His warm breath, smelling of mint and brandy, wafted over her, and she closed her eyes.
“That’s better,” he murmured. Again his lips claimed hers, but this time there was no doubt that he was kissing her. No light brushing of his lips. He covered her mouth hungrily, nipping, sucking, nudging her sealed lips with his tongue until she opened.
He swept in, and ’twas a good thing she was now clinging to his massive shoulders because otherwise she might have slid to the floor. He pulled her closer yet, until her breasts were crushed against his chest. His very warm, very muscular chest.
He scattered tiny kisses over her closed eyelids, her nose, cheeks, jawline. “Aye, lass. ’Tis not a good thing how ye make me think too much about ye.”
He thought about her? If she were to guess, she would say he’d like to throttle her. But his current actions certainly did not run along those lines.