All three grinned and waved away his words. “If anything ruins yer wooing of the lass, dear brother, ’twill be yerself,” Grant said with a snorting laugh as he pushed past Alec and followed his brothers up to the kitchen.
“I am not wooing,” Alec declared to his brother’s retreating back. Why the hell would Grant say such? All he wanted was the opportunity to get to know Mistress Williams better. What was wrong with that? Wooing was entirely different. Complicated, in fact. It required long walks in moonlit gardens and figuring out sweet things to tell a lass so she might reward ye with her kisses. He had no intention of scaring this fine woman away by doing such. Dwyn had read him the email she’d sent when she’d finally agreed to their terms. Sadie Williams didna trust his intentions. Above all else, he had to prove to her that he’d ne’er meant her any disrespect.
The heavy set of double doors at the front of the family’s private wing of the keep groaned loudly with a squealing high-pitched welcome. Alec refused to oil the hinges. One could ne’er have too many alarms when it came to catching a fifteen-year-old girl attempting to sneak in past her curfew.
The low murmuring of voices echoing up from the stone hallway leading into the main room triggered another surge of adrenaline. It disturbed him no small amount to realize that the mere sound of Sadie’s voice could have such an effect on him. Lore a’mighty. Ye’d think I was a lad moonin’ o’er m’first lassie.
Alec made the final turn at the bottom of the staircase and came to a dead stop on the wide landing. There she was. In his home. At last. The rustic sitting room suddenly seemed infinitely brighter.
Sadie stood at the edge of the room, her eyes growing ever wider as her gaze took in her surroundings. Head tilting slowly back, she studied the massive chandelier hanging from the highest beam in the vaulted ceiling. It was fashioned out of deer antlers, the tines tipped with long, swirling light bulbs made to look like flames.
Sadie’s silky dark braid slid from atop her shoulder to the center of her back, swinging like a pendulum as her focus flitted from the antler chandelier to the several candleholders made of more antlers lined up on the thick oak mantel of the stone fireplace taking up the entire south wall of the room. She finally turned, her stern look leveling on Alec. “Did you kill all the deer it took to make those?”
Not a timid bone in this lass’s body. Damnation, could she be any finer? But her accusing tone warned Alec that he’d best be quick and choose his next words carefully. Apparently, Mistress Sadie didna approve of hunting and wasna a bit shy about sayin’ so.
“Nay, lass.” He hurried forward and coaxed her bags out of her tightly fisted hands. She’d held them with an iron grip. Alec studied her closer. She’d just spoken so bravely, but her body betrayed her. The lass was tensed with wariness. Did she fear him or was she merely nervous?
Sadie folded her arms across her middle, seeming almost to hug herself as she shifted in place. She looked as though she’d rather be anywhere other than standin’ in MacDara Keep.
Must make her feel welcome. Alec gave her his warmest smile and nodded in the direction of the offensive light fixture and the many candleholders. “Resin. All fake. Every antler in this room. The decorators chose them when we built the keep. Said ’twould add authenticity. Make the place seem…” What the hell was the word they’d used? Rustic. Aye. That was it. “Make the keep seem more rustic.”
And it wasn’t a lie. The chandelier had come from some establishment in Texas and the candleholders had been shipped from some faraway place he couldna pronounce. Alec made a mental note to keep the door to the game room closed until they knew each other better. The trophies in there weren’t made of resin, nor were they fake.
Her dark eyes, the rich mahogany shade of well-aged bourbon, narrowed while one brow arched a notch higher than the other. “I don’t have a problem with hunting for food.” The toe of her scuffed boot tapped nervously against the highly polished wooden floor. “But I do have a problem with hunting for sport just so you can have some hideous trophy gathering dust in a room.”
He made a mental note to tell Mistress Lydia to keep the door to the game room locked and bolted until it could be properly cleared and refurbished. Mother had been itchin’ to turn the room into some fancy sort of place to teach the local women about herbs. She could damn well be about it now.
“I understand completely.” Alec held up her bags and nodded toward the hallway running behind the wide landing. “And now if ye’ll follow me, I’ll be happy to show ye to yer rooms. Mistress Lydia’s set up the north wing so ye’ll have it all to yerself. It has a private entry to the park, so ye can come and go as ye please and no one will be the wiser unless ye wish them t’be.”
Brisk thumps of sturdy heels rattled down the steps behind him, then a firm hand scooped one of Sadie’s smaller bags out of his grip. “My name’s Mistress Lydia—well, that’s what the MacDaras call me—you can call me plain ole Lydia or Miss Lydia, whichever suits you. I’ll be showing you the way to your rooms and getting you all settled in.” The silver-haired matron shot Alec a look that dared him to argue, then turned to the uncharacteristically silent Dwyn. “Mr. Dwyn, get that other bag there so we can get this young lady all settled in while Mr. Alec’s checking his morning emails. I’m sure there’s all kinds of folks waitin’ for him to answer them about some such nonsense.”
“I was about ta—”
Miss Lydia cut him short, making her trademark sound that could only be described as a cross between a blaring smoke alarm and an engine grinding to a start. Whatever it was, her warning noise effectively shut down anyone trying to argue with her.
The slightest movement in Alec’s peripheral vision caught his attention. He glanced over at Sadie. Was the lass laughing at him? Shoulders twitching and lips pressed tightly together, she looked as though she was holding her breath. Her lovely high cheekbones grew even rosier as the corners of her mouth trembled. Eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth, she tightened her folded arms.
“Ye find this amusing, do ye?”
“As a matter of fact.” A snorting giggle finally escaped and Sadie blossomed into a full-blown smile beneath Alec’s stern gaze. She turned to Miss Lydia and politely nodded. “Lead on, Miss Lydia. I think you and I are going to be great friends.”
Alec watched the ladies head down the hallway with Dwyn obediently following after them with the bags. Just past the landing, Dwyn paused and tossed a look back at Alec. “Yer doomed, lad. Doomed, I say.”
Aye. That I am. “But I’m not beaten,” Alec muttered under his breath as he hurried across the room, slid aside a replica of an ancient leather shield, and flipped the switch imbedded in the stone behind it. He backed up a few steps, waiting impatiently for the wall to slowly slide open, revealing one of the many passages hidden behind the walls of the keep. Time to take a shortcut to the north wing. He’d be damned if Mistress Lydia had the pleasure of settling their new guest in all to herself.
Chapter 5
“I think you’ll be nice and comfy in here.” Miss Lydia unlocked the beautifully carved door. She pushed it open, then handed Sadie the fanciest room key she’d ever seen. Celtic knots and whorls topped the brass skeleton key that was lovely enough to wear as fine jewelry.
“The weather’s been so mild for this late in the year, I threw the windows open wide and aired out the rooms good and proper for you. Can’t stand a stuffy room. Can you?” The pink-cheeked matron with curly wisps of silvery gray hair escaping from her messy bun didn’t wait for Sadie to answer. She bustled to the middle of the room, pressed a hand to the center of her ample bosom, and pulled in a deep breath. “Doesn’t that fresh autumn air smell sweet as the finest perfume?”
And it did. The room had a clean, welcoming smell that couldn’t possibly be achieved with any man-made air freshener. It reminded Sadie of the long walk she’d taken through the woods yesterday to shore up her courage for today. The same sense of peace she’d found among the trees also permeated th
is room.
“I love it.” Sadie meandered around the comfortable sitting room, taking in the overstuffed couch and comfortable chair completely fitted with pillows and a snuggly-looking lap throw tossed across its back. The cozy seating arrangement was angled in front of a stone fireplace built into the corner. She came up short when she reached an elaborate mahogany built-in taking up the entire corner of the room opposite the fireplace.
A router and several other black boxes of electronic wonder blinked a welcome and the promise of high-speed Wi-Fi on the shelf above the highly polished surface of the desk. A forty-inch monitor with an HDMI cable was ready to be connected to a laptop to provide an easy-on-the-eyes screen. A printer and reams of paper waited in the hinged unit to the left of the opulent leather chair rolled back to a welcoming angle in front of the desk.
“This is beautiful.” Sadie smoothed her fingers along the coolness of the wood. What a perfect place to write! A complete office in one corner of the room. A perfect place to write. Coincidence? A skin-tingling mix of uncertainty, excitement, and leeriness rushed through her.
“Brand new. Mr. Alec had it all installed just yesterday. I threatened those boys with their lives if they tracked up my carpet, but it looks like they took good care.” Miss Lydia opened the double doors on the other side of the room, revealing a grand four-poster bed decked out with enough fluffy comforters and pillows to please the pickiest of guests.
“Here’s your bedroom and over yonder is the…” Miss Lydia paused, frowning as she tapped her dimpled chin with a bent finger. She finally turned to Dwyn, still patiently standing just inside the main door to the suite waiting for instructions as to where Miss Lydia wanted the bags. “What did that decorator fella call that bathroom?”
“En-suite master spa,” Dwyn supplied, then held up the bags. “Where d’ye want I should put these?”
Miss Lydia pointed Dwyn toward the bedroom, then made an unimpressed face at Sadie. “I don’t know why that designer man Mr. Dwyn hired used such fancy words for the bathroom. I’ll admit, it is a bit on the hoity-toity side with all its doo-bobbles and such and I think you’ll like it, but let’s face it—a bathroom’s just a bathroom no matter what you call it.” She tossed a dismissive wave. “You go in there, do your business, and then get out. It’s just a bathroom, for cripe’s sake.”
“So do ye find the desk pleasin’ then?”
That voice. Sadie sucked in a surprised gasp. Thank goodness she didn’t have any gum in her mouth this time or she’d be choking again and hacking like a cat with a hair ball. Damn, that voice. A delayed shiver rippled through her like tinder catching fire. The man should bottle that deep, rich brogue. It would make millions as an aphrodisiac.
Alec stood in the doorway, blocking it completely with his height and broad shoulders, arms loosely crossed over his chest.
Sadie swallowed hard and patted the back of the chair. “This is gorgeous.” Plopping down in the plush leather seat, she wiggled and turned the chair back and forth. “Excellent chair. Spins without a sound.” Well, don’t I sound intelligent. What the hell am I doing? Trying to make him think I’m some kind of chair expert?
Sadie mentally shook herself, shored up her waning confidence, and traced her fingers across the cool smoothness of the desk. I can do this. It’s just a job. She picked up the knobby end of the HDMI cable and pointed it at Alec. “It’s the perfect height for my laptop. Most desks are way too high for my short little legs.” She nervously tapped her feet in a rolling bounce against the thick, lush carpet. Yep. Perfect height for hours of writing. Almost as though he’d planned it just for her.
An ever-increasing choke hold of edginess made her swallow hard again, then force in another deep breath. He couldn’t have installed this just for her. If he did, what was it going to cost her? What exactly was Alec MacDara’s angle?
“Very thoughtful of you to fit this out for business guests.” She flinched at the nervous pitch to her voice. What the hell is wrong with me? Be professional. She could do this, and she’d also made a promise to herself that she was going to give the man a fair chance. Who knows? Maybe he was just looking for a friend. He’d mentioned the emails. Seemed like he’d read a lot of them. She shoved her rising insecurities aside and concentrated on studying Alec closer. He did seem a bit on the lonely side. Why in the world would a man like him be lonely? Was something wrong with him?
Had to be a trap of some sort. Well. If it was…she could handle that too. She’d overcome a lot of bullies who thought it the best sort of fun to set up the chubby girl for a fall. She was a big girl and could handle anything. Yeah…I’m a big girl all right. She cleared her throat, swung the chair to face Alec, and spoke with more certainty than she currently felt. “The desk is perfect—especially for guests who might have to take care of business or something while they’re visiting.”
“He installed it for you. Said you’d need it for your writing.” Miss Lydia pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and toddled back into the sitting room, all the while shaking a stern finger in Alec’s direction. “And I thought I told you I’d be getting the young lady settled. What are you doing in here bothering us while we’re trying to get her particulars all sorted out?”
“We’ve a minor crisis in the kitchen that requires yer immediate attention.” Alec moved deeper into the room, noticeably widening his stance and planting his feet as if silently declaring that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“A crisis? In my kitchen?” Miss Lydia glared at him with a warning look that would stop a herd of charging Black Friday sale shoppers. “Where’s your mother? Has Sarinda already headed down to the herbal shops?”
“Aye.” Alec nodded, a solemn look of impending doom shadowing his features. “Máthair’s already about her day and Esme has descended from her lair and is currently caterwaulin’ to Athair about the frock I willna let her wear to the dance.”
“Lord have mercy on that child’s soul because I’m gonna have her behind.” Miss Lydia set her jaw, puffing up until the perfectly starched apron tied around her middle and pinned to the neckline of her printed cotton dress looked as though it was about to pop off and go airborne.
“Who is Esme?” Sadie hated to interrupt, but she had to ask. If she was going to be a part of Alec’s team for the next six weeks, she needed to know all the players. “And who’s Athair?” She struggled to pronounce the word just as Alec had said it. She didn’t want to insult anyone with sloppy enunciation.
Alec turned to her with a heavy sigh, weariness reflected in the sudden slump of his broad shoulders. “Esme is m’wee sister. Fifteen years of age and determined t’send us all to an early grave. Athair is Scots Gaelic for ‘father.’ Ye met Emrys MacDara, m’father, at the meeting the other day.”
“Ahh…” Sadie understood completely now. A fifteen-year-old girl—and the baby of the family with nothing but older brothers for siblings. Definitely a recipe for disaster. Teenage girls could be snarling hormonal demons of epic proportions at times. Sadie had interned one summer at a girls’ camp for extra credit toward her psychology degree. She shuddered at the memory. There had been times when she’d wondered if she’d make it out alive.
“She doesn’t need to throw Mr. Emrys into one of his spells.” Miss Lydia hurried across the room, pausing when she reached the door. She turned to Alec with an expression that left no doubt as to what she was about to do. “That young lady is not too old for me to dust her britches. She knows better than to stress out Mr. Emrys.”
“Do whate’er ye deem fittin’. I trust yer judgment with that wee beastie.” Alec fisted a hand over his heart and gallantly gave her a short, reverent bow. “May the gods be with ye.”
“Hmpf.” Miss Lydia let out another disgruntled huff, then rapped the door facing with her knuckles. “That young’un knows better than to cross me. You’d better be praying for her. Time I get through with that child, she’ll think twice about throwin’ a tantrum around her daddy.” Then Miss Lydia disappeared
into the hall, the thick heels on her sensible black shoes clacking down the hardwood floors like the drum cadence of a battle charge.
A smug grin wiping away his earlier signs of weariness, Alec turned back to Sadie. “I’d best guard me boots well. The last time wee Esme became angry with me, she filled them with fresh horse shit.”
An embarrassingly loud snorting laugh escaped her. Sadie couldn’t help it. The look on Alec’s face paired with the mental picture of him shoving his foot into a boot full of horse manure was more than she could bear. “Sorry—” She clapped her fingers across her lips.
The nervousness she’d been fighting ever since she arrived threatened to swell to epic proportions. She suddenly realized she was staring at Alec like an animal caught in his headlights.
Sadie forced herself to blink, drop her hand away from her mouth, and smile. Her clenched teeth made her face feel tight and unnatural. Great. Alec was waiting for her to take hold of the conversation and all she could manage was a strained, dumb-ass grin and a glassy-eyed stare.
Sadie made herself unclench her teeth, nervously licked her bottom lip, and walked over to the wall of windows encasing an unusually wide set of French doors at the farthest side of the room. The double glass doors fitted with ornately curved brass handles opened out onto a private deck overlooking an autumnal wood halved by a sparkling stream.
Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Sadie kept her gaze locked on the breathtaking view. Don’t look at him. Just be yourself and stop acting like this is the first time you’ve ever talked to a member of the male species. This is just business and he’s just a man. A damn fine man, but a man just the same.
Sadie immediately forgot her advice and risked a glance back at him. “Sorry,” she repeated. She cleared her throat and consciously relaxed the stranglehold she currently had on one of the door handles. “I didn’t mean to laugh”—she stole another glance back over her shoulder—“but you have to admit the child’s creativity is impressive.”
Sadie's Highlander Page 5
