A Hellion for the Highlander

ay on the first night, or did she wait a few days to suss out how she could take advantage o’ the situation?”

Alexander blanched.

“Dinnae ye worry, ye’re nae the first man to be taken in by such womanly—”

“Stop,” Alexander snarled. Then, taking a few breaths to calm himself, he repeated, “Stop. I am yer Laird an’ Cicilia is me guest. I’ll thank ye nae to cast such aspersions on either me or her. This is beyond inappropriate, Mr. Cunningham, nae matter how much ye claim to be concerned!”

Thomeas bowed his head. “Forgive me, Laird, but ye asked that I should speak freely. I am nae insultin’ ye or the lass. I simply ken how women operate. If yer heart is entertainin’ foolish thoughts, ye should ken that—”

“I dinnae want to hear it,” Alexander interrupted, though he spoke in a gentler voice now. As horribly insulted as he felt, he knew that Thomeas meant no harm.

The accomptant saw things in white and gray with minimal shading in between. No doubt, Thomeas had encountered many such women in his forty years. No doubt he’d even saved Alexander’s own father from some such schemers.

It is nae his fault. He just doesn’ae ken Cicilia. She was so busy tryin’ to scare him away that she couldn’ae show him how she really is.

“Laird,” Thomeas started again.

Alexander shook his head. “I apologize for raisin’ me voice, Thomeas, but I meant what I said. Nae more talk o’ this. Cicilia is me guest, an’ she’ll stay here until the farm is ready for her return. We will deal wi’ everything else then.”

Thomeas nodded. “An’ I apologize for offendin’ ye. As ye ken, I live to serve. Whatever me Laird wishes, so it shall be.”

Alexander sighed and then turned on his heel, heading to exit the room and ensure that Cicilia and the twins had been settled while he and the accomptant were talking. Just before he was through the door, Thomeas called out to him.

“Laird?”

“Aye, Thomeas?”

“Where is yer pin?”

Alexander went still, looking down at his own chest, the glaring white of his shirt unnaturally smooth. There was no pin there, no shine of gold. He hadn’t been wearing his father’s badge when he ran out of the house, he’d left all his belongings where they were in his rush to get everyone out of the flames safely.

He touched the space where it usually rested above his heart, as though that would make it materialize somehow, swallowing down the rising panic in his breast.

Breathe, Alexander. When did ye last see it? When did ye last wear it?

Perhaps it was gathered with Cicilia’s things when they were recovering the small pile from the building? He couldn’t remember. But it had to be there, for if it was not, it was gone. And if he’d lost his father’s pin, he may as well have spat in the dead man’s face.

Without another word, he hurried out of the door, hoping against hope that his salvation waited at Cicilia’s side.

Chapter 16

Cor Ad Cor Loquitur

Heart Talks to Heart

Cicilia had just settled the twins into their new room after they both promised not to go anywhere in the castle without asking someone first. She was a little concerned, but not overly so, when she returned to the chamber which she had been given and found the door askew.

Did I leave it ajar like this? I’m usually so good at rememberin’ to close doors…

She went inside, and what she saw surprised her more—Alexander, kneeling on the floor, holding the saddlebag upside down. Her meager belongings that had been salvaged made up a devastatingly small pile and Alexander was digging through it like a man possessed.

“What are ye doin’?” she asked without anger. He hadn’t read the book, after all. She felt like she could extend him a little trust now, even if the situation looked suspicious. “Why are ye in here?”

Alexander looked up, and she was shocked to see the distress in his blue eyes. She hadn’t seen him looking quite this vulnerable ever before, not even when they’d been kissing on the floor of the stable or when he was gentle with the twins in their grief. “Me pin,” he said in a hollow voice. “It is nae here. It is nae here.”

“Pin?” Cicilia asked, kneeling at his side. “The gold one ye always wear? Ye dinnae have it wi’ ye?”

“It was by me bedside,” he said in a thick voice. “I forgot it when we were tryin’ to get out, I—I hoped it was maybe in wi’ this pile o’ stuff we got out, but—”