A Hellion for the Highlander

Cicilia was in the room with him now, but as he got closer, she retreated slightly. Her expression didn’t change, though, as she glared up at him. “Aye, I ken,” she snarled. “An’ I ken ye will nae find it here. I hid it a long, long time ago. Ye’ll have to ask me if there’s anythin’ ye want to ken. Or just wait for me faither to get back, I suppose.”

Alexander smiled tightly. Her spirit was almost as fetching as it was annoying. He moved a little closer again. “Come, Miss Cicilia,” he entreated. “Would it nae be better for us both if ye just fetched the book an’ let me have a look? After all, I’m sure yer faither keeps all his trades goin’ along wi’ the laws o’ the land.”

“Me faither is a better man than any ye’ve ever kent,” Cicilia snapped. She stepped back again, though some of the anger in her eyes was gone. “Dinnae ye even begin to suggest otherwise, I’m warnin’ ye.”

Alexander held up his hands. “I wouldnae dream o’ it,” he assured her. “I just want a look at the workings o’ the farm, that’s all. Unless ye think there’s somethin’ else I should ken about?”

Now she actually smirked. “If there’s somethin’ else ye should ken about that ye dinnae, do ye really think I’d just tell ye?” she asked. “Come, Me Laird. What do ye think o’ me?”

“I think ye’re a smarter lass than ye let on,” he answered. “I think ye’re hidin’ things about the trade workin’s on this farm, an’ I think ye’re hidin’ more than that.”

He was now standing very close to her, her back almost against the wall, towering over her. Her eyes were boring into his. He could feel the heat of her body radiating against his. Yet again, he found himself wondering what it might feel like if he simply took that final step, bringing their bodies together.

Get a hold o’ yerself, Alexander!

His moment of self-doubt must have shown on his face because Cicilia took that split second to make her escape. She pushed him—not hard enough to hurt—and darted under his arm to escape.

Alexander stood for a few seconds, staring at the space she’d been before he gathered his mind enough to turn and follow.

She was already out of the library by the time he left the study enclosure, and he picked up his pace as he chased her. He heard her giggling as she noticed he was chasing her, but it was a giggle with fear laced through it.

Nervous laughter. Why is she so scared?

But he couldn’t let up now. Cicilia, obviously, was going to wherever the book was hidden, intent on protecting it. She was fast, but Alexander had longer legs, and though she was barely far ahead, he had no doubt he would catch her.

He slowed as he realized they’d run straight to where the bedrooms were. The impropriety of entering a woman’s quarters with no chaperone was almost enough to stop him cold in his tracks.

Almost.

But I need that book.

He closed the gap between them as she reached her door, and he stumbled into the room just seconds after she did.

Cicilia was scrambling under her bed, and Alexander dived down beside her. His arms were longer, and he saw the leather-bound ledger deep under the bed and grabbed it before she could reach.

“Nay!” Cicilia called. “Dinnae read it!”

She kicked at him, but he had already extracted himself from under the bed and stood, book aloft. He backed up quickly while she got to her own feet.

Cicilia threw herself at him, grabbing for the book, but though she was healthy, he was more muscular and taller. He held her back with one hand while he balanced the text in the other.

What he saw on the page made his mind reel. There was a full description of recent workings on the farm, perhaps six months old…but there was no mention of Cameron O’Donnel’s name anywhere. In fact, even where C. O’Donnel was signed, it was with distinctly feminine penmanship.

He was right. What he’d suspected was correct. For whatever reason, this young woman—this girl—was running the farm alone.

Where is her faither? Did he die? Is he gone missin’?

And if the former, why had she not reported such a thing? It wasn’t right that a young unmarried girl should be taking on such a burden alone. As he ran his eyes down the list of trades, it was hard to believe just how much illicit activity the O’Donnel farm was getting away with. Was this woman really the mastermind?

He was about to ask her, but a sudden sharp pain in his shin made him yelp and drop both the book and his hold on Cicilia. “Ye witch!” he gasped. “Ye kicked me!”

She ignored him, scrambling for the book, her eyes wide and face pale. As she stood again, her arms clutching it protectively to her chest, she almost seemed to be pleading with him.

But nay. “It’s too late,” Alexander told her. “I ken yer secret. What happened to yer faither, Cicilia?”

To his surprise and discomfort, tears suddenly shone in her eyes, though she blinked them away furiously.

“He died, all right?” she told him angrily. “He died an’ left me wi’ the bairns an’ the farm alone. An’ I will nae let ye take either o’ them from me!”